#but you know what spite is as good a motivator as any so fuck you Adrian I’m getting this done

[roachfun]

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

[saturdaynightghostclub]

“Hey Toady how’s it going lately”

It’s great thanks babe, I almost crashed an entire bus into a guardrail after sliding through an icy intersection, now I’m seated to see The Iron Claw by myself and after that I’ll probably have a sleepover at my mom’s because all of my roommates are out of town and I’m lonely. You?

[runningwithscizzorz]

(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

[ivysangel]

fratboy!dick being your first fuck, he brags about to his buddies about it and sends a photo of you asleep beside him sporting a shit-eating grin, captioning it "winning" only to drop you hours later for a new girl the morning after.

fratboy!jason is your first suck/bj in a restroom after he asks you out on a milkshake date. to spite dick, he sends an update to the groupchat with a pic from his pov where you're on your knees, busy and oblivious to the camera aimed at you, and captions it with "milkshake no.2 tastes real good"

i'm tweaking over the fact that i missed this because this is literally just too good. i've literally BEEN obsessed with virgin chasing fratboy!dick like if you looked through me and kazz's you would see many a convo about that topic.

he's literally so manipulative; he purposely befriends you just to get in your pants, feigns interest in your hobbies just to gain your trust so he can fuck you then dump you. and he preys on your naivety, knows that you're apprehensive about losing your virginity to a fratboy especially dick because he's got such a messy track record, so he makes sure to reassure you constantly, telling you that you're "different" and that he's "never felt this way before." and every time you second guess the motive behind his actions he does something to make you feel like you're the only girl in the world, stealing your heart until you finally give in and let him fuck you, stealing your virginity.

the worst part is how loving he is during the whole process. he goes so slow, asking how you're feeling with every stroke, wipes away any tears that might escape from your eyes while you're getting used to the feeling. he keeps up the charade that he's in love with you the entire time that he's inside of you, and then he just leaves and pretends that he never even knew you and the only proof that he did is the pic he took of you while you were sleeping and the $50 he venmo'd you for plan b the next morning.

nonnie, i think we're so on the same wavelength because i have BEEN obsessed with the concept of fratboy!jason being a bj lover for ages. like i even briefly mentioned it in my fratboy headcanons post, and what i put wasn't even my original idea. i was originally gonna say that he held the record for most blowjobs received in closets and bathrooms in the entire frat's history. but anyway, back to what you said.

"milkshake no.2 tastes real good" is some crazy work, and i'm actually kind of upset that i didn't come up with it but whatever. fratboy!dick and fratboy!jason hooking up with the same girl just to get back at each other despite neither of them actually having feelings for her is actually so disgustingly real. and a bitch is gonna keep coming back because the dick is great!!! fantastic!!! phenomenal even!!!

the thing with jason is that despite being in a frat, he refuses to publicly associate with them and therefore has half the school thinking he's some sexy loner with no friends when he is, in fact, a legacy pledge and incredibly well respected amongst the brothers. so he's posted up in the university library, chatting you the fuck up with his knowledgable takes and dry-ass humor. convincing you to go on a date with him isn't hard at all, and somehow, despite you being freshly devirginized with approximately one body, neither is getting you to suck his dick in the dingy bathroom of the diner he took you to.

you're on the floor, dirty, offputtingly sticky tile pressing into your knees while you suck him off, really putting your neck into it because he's hot and you want him to come back for a round two in the near (hell, even distant) future. he snaps a pic of mostly the top of your head, features barely identifiable to absolutely anybody but dick who A) either calls him immediately (jason declines) or B) blocks him because even though he didn't actually like you this still somehow breaks bro code (dick is weirdly possessive over his virgin conquests).

jason never tells dick that it was one of the worst blowjobs he's received in his life and that you used way too much teeth because the ego boost from pissing dick off is way too good.

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[little-diable]

Commands - Draco Malfoy (smut)

A small Drabble I wrote at work lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco is reader’s step-brother, something he doesn’t seem to care about while asking her to put her mouth to work. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), degrading, stepcest, dumbification, slight slapping

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.1k words)

“Draco?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes burning in exhaustion as she looked at the dark frame. She had been woken by the sound of his feet stepping onto the one spot of the old wooden flooring creaking too loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” Her breath instantly hitched in her chest, eyes zoning in on her step brother who stepped closer to her bed. She didn’t dare speak another word, too focused on the man who had always treated her with spite and anger, at least for most parts of the day. At night he behaved differently, as if his demons finally managed to get the upper hand, guiding his lust and longing for his step sister.

“I’m tired, Draco.” (Y/n) sighed her words before plopping back down on the mattress. She was about to cover her barely clothed body with her blanket, but Draco was faster. He ripped the fabric from her fingers, exposing the shirt of his she wore, managing to cover the lacy pair of panties she knew Draco loved.

Perhaps she had hoped for another visit, perhaps she had prayed that he’d find her again. Longings she didn’t dare put into words, at least not out loud.

“Don’t lie to me, we both know you’re a greedy fucking whore for your step brother, aren’t you?” He kneeled on the mattress, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. His cold fingers danced over her arms, moving up to her shoulders before one hand came down on her throat, letting his fingers grasp her. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She only managed to press a whisper past her clenched teeth, trying not to give in all that easily. Draco had always managed to gain the upper hand, to guide her while she got lost in the waves of pleasure like a raft losing its path in the icy river it was sailing on.

“Good. I need those pretty lips wrapped around me.” He hadn’t been able to find any rest, unable to give in to sleep's quiet call. Draco’s mind had been too active, thinking of the woman sleeping only a few rooms down from his, wondering what she was dreaming of. (Y/n) was haunting his thoughts, had been ever since their parents had gotten married years ago. He had tried to stay away, all until her twenty-first birthday they had celebrated together, a night where he had claimed her for the first of many times.

(Y/n) rose to a sitting position before she put her weight onto her knees. Draco’s hand on her throat pulled her in for a kiss, momentarily distracting her while her hands rested on his chest. Her body was covered in goosebumps as if he was winter itself, embracing the biting cold that left marks on her body, burning straight through her system.

He was the darkness, the bleak midwinter she had eventually found enjoyment in.

Draco leaned back against the headrest of her bed after pulling off his shirt, exposing his abs to her wandering eyes. He watched her free his cock, watched her spit down on the red tip just like he had taught her to months ago. By now she was a natural, knowing what he was aching for, how he needed to feel her to get that push to clear his racing mind.

His ringed fingers found her head almost instantly, forcing her down on his cock with a satisfied groan clawing through him. With his eyes pressed shut, Draco sank into her touch, allowing (y/n) to bob her head fast enough to leave him moaning. Her sounds were almost as loud as his, clawing through her while she worked her mouth on him, a sinful, forbidden mixture both had fallen in love with.

“Atta girl, your mouth’s so perfect for me.” Heat flushed through her, set on gaining as much praise as possible. Draco wasn’t one for complimenting her, wasn’t one for showering her with attention, only in those secret moments where she touched him like that would he give in and tell her how much he adored her – her body at least.

With her eyes set on his features, on his closed eyes, on the teeth nibbling on his lower lip, she kept sucking him off. The corners of her mouth were still hurting from yesterday night, a strange deja-vu she couldn’t shake as she took as much of him as possible. She didn’t care much about her own pleasure, didn’t worry much about her own highs he’d give her either way. All (y/n) was focused on was Draco, his pleasure, his sounds, the praise his body would wordlessly share with her.

He twitched in her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. (Y/n) knew that he’d cum soon, painting her tongue white with his release – a fulfilling taste she was already aching for. Seeing a man like Draco cum was an experience itself, a moment so raw, so intimate, she sometimes found herself wondering if she was only dreaming it.

“Tell me what you’ll do, tell me the rule.” Draco pulled her off his cock, watching her saliva drip from her chin while her hand kept pumping him. (Y/n) needed a second to collect herself, pondering over his command while her throat begged for a break. She heavily swallowed as his hand came down on her cheek, not hard enough to hurt her, just with enough pressure to refocus her. “Such a dumb slut, all because you have the privilege to suck me off.”

“I’ll swallow, swallow it all!” It seemed to be good enough for Draco. He nodded his head with a smirk tugging on his lips, head tilted back down to his cock to wordlessly guide her. Almost instantly, (y/n) got back to work, lips finding their way back to his tip to suck on the head. Another moan broke through Draco, a moan that slightly trembled as his orgasm started to build.

With excitement laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched him come undone. Sweat was pearling on his forehead, making a few bright strands of his hair stick to his skin, lips parted, cheeks rosy. A moan left him as he came, filling her cheeks with his cum as she kept pumping his cock with her aching fingers.

Draco pulled her off his cock once again, staring down at her as she exposed her empty tongue to him. His thumb wiped along her lower lip, collecting some saliva before bringing his digit up to his mouth. They held eye contact as he sucked his finger clean, gazes wandering over one another’s features.

“I want you on your hands and knees when I return. Don’t you dare move.”

[cinnamonest]

May I present to you... innocent playgirl reader x modern au incel scara??

Like reader is just a sweet gal that thinks this boy who she's in a project with is pretty and despite his weird and creepy behaviour, it's a good thing she's trying to make a move, because y'know! it's actually women's fault that men get so frustrated and depressed since they never give the short guys a chance! Only go for the top 1% and all that.

Unfortunately after scara naps her, noncons the absolute, living daylights out of her, and continues to terrorize her ass does she realize that being nice and sweet to the degenerate, sexist incel in hopes of fixing him wasn't the brightest idea 😔

(If you can't tell I love the idea of kind n sweet MC who doesn't know any better getting her shit wrecked for no good reason because incel scara is just that much of an asshole)

Ohhhh my God bless you for this

Precisely, it’s so unfair. It’s just extra inches of leg bone, it means nothing. And yet day in, day out, the oppressed class (sub-6-foot males) have to deal with unjust discrimination. All because you have the most superficial desires and can’t compromise on such a silly thing. No, you’d rather whore around with some guy that will just use you and cheat on you because your dumb girl brain seeks that out like every other. And in spite of being smarter and better than the neanderthals you choose to date, which should entitle him to pussy, he’s left with nothing but porn and his hand. The world is an unjust place.

He’s pessimistic as all hell, so he can’t take any kindness or attempts at getting closer from you at face value, there has to be an ulterior motive.

You’re only pleasant to him when you talk to him because you want something. You probably expect him to do work for you, or help you cheat on tests for you or fork over money. You think he’s the sort of loser that will salivate over any girl that gives him a shred of attention, don’t you. That he’ll run himself ragged doing whatever for you just to get your approval. Well. You’re not going to get that.

It goes along with this greater idea of you he’s crafted in his head, one that fits a similarly pessimistic image. It doesn’t matter how “innocent” you are, literally anything you say or do, he’s projecting this stereotype of a secretly not-so-innocent, ultra-promiscuous college girl onto you and using it as both justification for his disdain and as a means of rationalize not leaping at this rare chance for female interaction — it’s not that he’s too afraid of rejection, it’s just that he knows that talking to you is a waste of time anyway, you undoubtedly have guys lined up you're fucking on a regular basis.

Besides, even if he tried, you’re far too dull-brained, so any conversations you’re capable of aren’t going to be stimulating anyway. You’re in college, of course you’ve spent all this time racking up a body count because God knows girls only use college as a means to get dicked all the time, they don’t actually care for academics in any way.

And poor you, you're completely oblivious to his bitter seething. You just think he's just quiet. And surely he doesn’t come off as rude and cold on purpose, no, you tell yourself that he probably just is one of those guys that is naturally like that, it’s not malicious.

But then you have to start going out of your way to be actively nice. Trying to make conversation and say nice things — you must think he’s stupid, that he doesn’t know that it’s actually just fake niceness so you can lure him in and get him to say something you can then mock him for in that faux-sweet tone of yours. In the exact opposite of your assumptions on him, he assumes malice in everything you do and say. He won’t give you the satisfaction of giving you leverage, so, he stays quiet, gives you one-word answers and shrugs.

What plans do you have for the weekend?, you say, in your attempts to make conversation. Ugh.

Not only are you trying to jab at him by reminding him that he has no plans other than staying inside and wallowing, but clearly you do have plans, undoubtedly ones that end with you stumbling home in a walk-of-shame on a Sunday morning.

And the nicer you get, the more you irritate him. What makes you think you can just be like that? All smiley and sunshine-like, and for what? To mock him? Acting innocent and sweet as if you don't know what kind of power you inherently hold just by having a hole between your legs, as if you're not actively abusing that power when you're clearly trying to get him to be attracted to you.

Each and every class period, he ends up so infuriated by the few words you exchange that the only way he can even stay sane is by immediately going back to his apartment after class and releasing all the pent up frustrations via exceptionally violent porn. He's got a few specifics pages bookmarked now, girls that look just like you getting slapped around and choked and manhandled and skull-fucked and gaped… but it's just not satisfying enough, there's still this lingering irritation, a skin-crawling malice that won't go away.

It's not good enough to imagine. If anything, the post-orgasmic clarity just makes the whole thing feel pathetic — it's not really you, you get to be all happy and safe and sound when it should be you, you should be the one being brutalized and put in your place, you deserve it for being so damn nice. So pleasant and upbeat and kind and what gives you the right?

In the end, once the burning fury becomes too much and no one else is going to do it, the only option is to take matters into his own hands…

[obsessive-disfuntion]

Gun-Slinging and Impressing the Literal Devil

Your favorite place to hang out was the constantly buzzing saloon owned by one of your acquaintances, Rosie. But after hearing too many men brag about how good they are with a gun, you grew tired of their egos and decided to shut them up. But in the process of showing off your skills you happened to impress a certain cowboy outlaw.

A/N: This is based off of the LOVELY art of cowboy Lucifer drawn by the incredibly talented and sweet @bat-boness so please go give them some love!! This fic is literally so outside of the Hazbin universe, Lucifer isn’t even the king of hell I just took his character and ran with it. Thank you all so much for all the love from my sneak peak for this fic, I barely had the motivation to finish it but you guys definitely helped me out with all the love so thank you ❤️

Warnings: Femme reader, AFAB terms and she/her pronouns used for reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read!

You tilted your head back as you finished off your second glass of whiskey, letting out a groan from the burning in your throat. You pushed the glass back towards Rosie for a refill before tucking the stray hairs falling out of your braid behind your ears.

“Well sugar, I think you’ve had enough this afternoon… I want you to be able to walk out of here,” she grinned, taking the glass and starting to clean it. “Any particular reason you’re trying to drink yourself under the table today?”

“You know I got nothin’ better to do,” you chuckled, looking at Rosie. “And all these boys taking up air in this damned place are making me wish I was elsewhere.”

“They are rather… loud.”

“That’s an understatement,” you scoff. “I dunno how you put up with their bullshit, Rosie.”

A hush fell over the saloon, causing you to perk up and look towards the entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, absolutely dumbfounded.

“My days… is that Lucifer?” Rosie gasped.

You nod your head, ensuring that your mouth was closed and not completely open in shock. What was he doing here in a place like this?

He walked in, completely ignoring the silence and heading towards the bar. His spurs clinked against the wood floor, and you quickly take in his appearance before looking away back towards Rosie. You only saw his eyes, which were narrowed in concentration. The rest of his face was covered by a white hat tilted over his brows and a red bandana hiding his mouth and nose that made his eyes nearly glow. Although the bandana wasn’t doing much, since the cut of his shirt was rather… low…

He stood to your left, leaning his arm against the bar counter causing him to nearly press against you he was so close. You couldn’t help but look up at him.

He smelled of barley and gunpowder… and his hair was unkempt from the wind that most-likely came from riding horseback.

“Well howdy,” he greeted Rosie, tipping his hat.

…What?

His voice was so… cheery. It didn’t match what he looked like at all. It contrasted his concentrated and unapproachable appearance.

“Well hey there, Lucifer… what can I get for ya this afternoon?” Rosie smiled as she grabbed a glass, being her usual charming self.

He pulled the bandana down to speak. “Strongest drink you have, if you please.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He was pretty… Smile that could make your knees buckle, rosy red cheeks, and… a surprising amount of manners for such a well-known outlaw.

“Of course… What brings you to our little town? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just passin’ through. You know me. Well, not really. But I mean- I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Wait, that sounds awful full of myself, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little,” you butted in, causing you to widen your eyes in spite of yourself.

Why did you say that?

This brought his attention towards you, smile still on his face as he gave you a once over. You pretended not to notice, but it made you squirm in your seat and subtly adjust your ruffled skirt.

“Well hey there pretty lady. You come here often?”

You snort, which makes you flush in embarrassment. “Sure do. Rosie here is a close friend of mine.”

“Well, you both look absolutely lovely this afternoon,” he winked at the both of you, causing you to shrink in your seat and Rosie to let out a giggle.

“Why thank you,” Rosie smiled back, sliding over a glass of clear liquid to him. “Enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank ya, ma’am,” he tilted his hat once more and grabbed his glass, taking a sip before heading over to that damned group of men you’ve grown to hate and starting up a conversation.

“Well he was… surprisingly friendly,” you observed, looking to Rosie.

“Yeah… especially towards you,” Rosie smirked, propping her elbows on the bar counter and leaning her face into her palms. “He fancies you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and dismissing the thought. Even if it was true, you couldn’t entertain the idea. He was an outlaw always on the run. You didn’t really want that life.

“Oh please, I could shoot circles around you.”

This caused you to glance behind you at one of the buffoons that was inflating his own ego earlier. Which he somehow had the audacity to say that to Lucifer, which caused your jaw to drop just slightly in disbelief.

But Lucifer didn’t even challenge the statement, for some reason. He just laughed and nodded.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I believe ya.”

“Damn… for a famous outlaw you don’t have a spine, now do ya?”

You slam your hands on the bar counter, causing the group of men to shut up for once.

“Y/N… I really don’t think-“

“Y’all sure are cocky for a bunch of bitches, aren’t ya?” you cut Rosie off, ignoring her warning and standing up out of your seat. 

You ignored the snickers coming from a few of the men, standing in front of them with your back straight and proud. You sure as hell weren’t gonna back down now that you’ve stepped in it. 

“Every goddamn day y’all come here and talk about your skills but I never see it.”

You lift your skirt, high enough to show your mid thigh, which caused almost all of the men to blush, wide-eyed as some stared and others looked away. You reveal your gun holster strapped to your thigh, pulling out your revolver and spinning it by the trigger guard with your pointer finger as you let your skirt fall back down.

“So how about you boys let me show you mine,” you smirk, tilting your dark brown hat back so they could all really get a look at you. 

“Why the fuck would we give you the time of day, little lady? Why don’t you go back to sittin’ and lookin’ pretty at the bar counter there-“

You pull back on the hammer spur of your revolver, lifting the gun up with one hand and narrowing one eye as you aim. You shot directly in the center of the cocky man’s hat, knocking it off of his thick skull before the bullet bounced into the wooden wall, it coming to a stop once it was wedged in between the boards. 

“Hey!” Rosie snapped, causing you to wince. “Not here, not inside- get out! All of you- you too Y/N!”

You shot her an apologetic look as you pushed forward on the hammer spur of your gun, walking outside with an anger bubbling in your chest. How dare those dumbs bastards speak to you that way…

You turn around when you hear the swinging doors open, watching with a smirk as the group of dumbs men get on their horses and ride away, not even sneaking a glance at you.

But then Lucifer walks out, and you look at the ground. Was he angry? But why would he be?

He called out your name, which he probably figured it out when Rosie yelled at you to get out, gaining your attention and causing you to look up.

“Ya still wanna show off your skills?” he asked, raising a brow and giving you a smile.

Your heart fluttered and you gave him a shrug. “Well if I have an audience.”

“Of course you do, couldn’t take my eyes off ya, sweetheart.”

He grabbed 3 empty food cans out of the bag hanging on the side of his horse, which he probably ate out of during his travels, leaving you to stare at him with wide eyes and blushing cheeks at his words. He set them up on different posts on the fence of a pasture that was next to the saloon. 

“Alright, show me what you got,” he shot you a toothy grin, stepping away from the cans as you scoffed.

“Please,” you laughed, making sure to take more steps back than what he was expecting. 

You shot the cans just like you shot the man’s hat from before, one eye slightly narrowed and gun raised with one hand. You shot one after the other, hitting them perfectly and knocking each one off of their posts with only a few seconds in between each shot.

Once they all hit the floor, you put the safety back on by pressing forward on the hammer spur.

“Damn…” Lucifer whistled, stepping towards you. “Haven’t seen someone shoot like that in a long time.”

“Glad I could impress someone like Lucifer himself,” you smiled, tipping your hat before lifting your skirt again and hooking your gun into the holster strapped around your thigh.

You tried to pretend you didn’t notice him staring at your skin as you let your skirt fall.

“Already was impressed when I saw you for the first time. Wasn’t kiddin’ when I called you a pretty lady.”

You blushed at the compliment but played it off, taking a stop towards him. “And you’re strikingly handsome for an outlaw… you’d think always being on the run would ruin one’s appearance.”

“Well, I suppose I’m criminally handsome as well.”

You snicker behind your hand. You really liked him…

“I’m not stayin’ here too long…”

“What a shame,” you frown at him, sticking out your bottom lip in a fake pout. 

“But I’d still like to have a pleasant stay. Any ideas on how I can make my visit a little more… fun?” he asked, stepping so close to you that his crossed arms nearly touched your chest.

Your eyes widened at his words. You looked at him, and his eyes were narrowed, honed in on you and only you and taking in your appearance.

Well shit. Who are you to deny someone like him?

“I might have a few… it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to show a merciless outlaw to my own home, would it?”

“Well… I certainly don’t think so… at least, not this outlaw,” he smiled at you, placing a gentle hand on your hip, and you caught him staring down at your figure.

“Well, let’s get on your horse and I’ll show you the way.”

“You don’t have your own?” he asks, taking your hand and showing you to his horse, which was a beautiful dusty grey color with a black mane.

“Nah- everything ‘round here is walking distance. If I need one I usually use one of Rosie’s- that there is her pasture, she has a few animals she likes takin’ care of,” you explain, ignoring the hand he puts out to help you and mounting the horse by yourself.

Lucifer’s eyes were slightly widened in shock as you made it clear that you didn’t need his assistance, getting on the horse and sitting behind you. “I see,” he smiled, pressing himself against you and holding onto your waist. “Lead the way, darlin’. And take your time, I’m in no rush.”

Your lips part and your heart hammers at the sudden touch, gently snapping the reins of the horse to a soft trot as you guide it to your home.

But just after a few steps from the horse you felt Lucifer’s hands travel down your waist to your hips, and then they slowly made their way forward.

“Lucifer, just what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, breath falling short as you sneak a glance over your shoulder back at him.

“Just keep goin’ sweetheart. I’m just havin’ a little fun.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to concentrate on getting the two of you to your home, breath hitching as his hands travelled down towards the center of your thighs.

“Lucifer, I’m… I’m trying to concentrate here,” you try to scold, lungs sputtering for air out of nerves and excitement when his grip tightens on your thighs and teases the area where your pelvis meets your hip.

“I know, darlin’. You can still get us there, can’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” you sighed, placing one hand on the hand that was getting dangerously close to a place you DIDNT want him touching out here.

“Don’t try to hold me back, baby,” he teased, breath hitting your ear.

You pull on the reigns of the horse, getting him to stop.

“We’re here,” you sighed. “Thank god.”

Lucifer jumped off the horse and you quickly followed. “I have some fenced off land in the back. You can keep your horse there, if you’d like,” you offer, handing him the reigns and showing him to the land you had behind your house.

It was peaceful where you lived- just at the end of town but close enough to everything you needed.

Once Lucifer let his horse back, and made him comfortable, he turned to you with a smile. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

“Why, of course,” you teased with a smile, taking his hands and leading him inside your home.

As soon as the door closed behind the two of you, he grabbed onto your waist and you gripped onto his shoulders as he pulled you into a lip-bruising kiss. 

He pulled you close, hands lowering to your hips and slotting one of his legs in between yours to press his thigh against you.

“Lucifer…” you breathed, running your hands to his hair and gripping onto the roots, moving towards his neck and pressing soft kisses along the skin. 

“Baby, you are…”

“C’mon,” you interrupt him against his skin, pulling back and leading him to your bed. “You wanted some fun while you’re in town, right?”

“Right,” he nodded, pushing you atop the covers as soon as you got near the mattress, kicking his shoes off and getting on the bed.

He hovered over you on his knees, already beginning to hike up your skirt which made you laugh under your breath, slightly nervous. You reached for your ankles, sitting up slightly as you unlaced your shoes and threw them to the side as Lucifer removed his hat and serape and putting them to the side.

You watched carefully when he took off his shirt, pulling it off and placing it aside, immediately inviting you- whether he meant to or not- to touch all of his chest and stomach that you could. You sighed out a deep breath (of slight disappointment) when he pulled away from your hands and pushed up your skirt enough to see your bloomers and under-skirts which he quickly removed. “You alright?” he checked in, looking up at you, barely able to rip his eyes away from your body.

“Yeah,” you whispered, giving him a smile and reaching out to run a hand through his hair. “Of course I am.”

He gave you a cheeky smile, immediately ducking down and starting to kiss along your upper thigh. He didn’t even have the patience to take your skirt off first, he just lifted it up so it would be out of the way and pushing it back so he could still see you. Right after the skirts were out of the way, he unclipped the gun holster around your thigh and dropping it onto the floor.

“Damn, you’re impatient…” you teased as an attempt to keep your composure, letting out a small, nervous laugh as he looked back up at you.

“I said I wanted to have fun while I’m here… and I don’t play around. I get what I want, if ya didn’t notice, sweetheart.”

“Aw, but you don’t wanna take your time with me?” you teased, trying but failing to hide your smile.

“I think you and I both know you like it hard and fast too, darlin’. I don’t really think you care if I take off our clothes or not. Do you?”

You flushed at those words, unable to get yourself to answer, let alone decide what to say.

“That’s what I thought.”

He dives back into your thigh, immediately making his way to your pussy and spreading your folds before licking a stripe across your hole and to your clit. 

“Jesus- fucking christ, Lucifer,” you gasped, glancing down at him and placing your hands in his hair to brace yourself. 

He doubles down, chuckling against you causing to let out a breathy moan. You felt your whole core spasm against the sudden attention, tilting your head back and getting lost in the feeling as soon as he thrust his tongue into your hole. 

“Fucking shit, Lucifer!”

You let out a small cry when he holds your thighs open, causing them to shake. “Please, oh my god-“

He pulled away so that his lips were just barely against your clit, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Please what, baby? What do you want?”

“You, you… please-“

“Already desperate for me?” he whispered, having the audacity to laugh at you.

“Shut your trap…”

He apparently didn’t like that response, so he gripped your thighs harder and started sucking on your clit with an unwavering vigour.

“What- Lucifer!” you cry out, one hand gripping onto his hair and the other slamming onto the mattress, gripping onto the sheets in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not burst into tears right there. 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to intertwine his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly and still keeping his gaze on you.

He finally gave you a break, pulling away and giving you a smile. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathed, studying your face and tracing his fingertips along your thigh.

You blushed under his admiration, looking off to the side out of embarrassment from his intense gaze.

“Whatta ya say, darlin’?”

You look back at him, face warm and eyes wide. “Thank you…”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, sitting up on his knees before leaning over you, his arms planted by your torso against the mattress to keep himself up.

He pressed his face against your neck, causing you to inhale a sharp breath and gripping onto his hair with one hand again as he peppered kisses along your neck. “Are you teasing me now?” you laughed under your breath, slowly lifting your bare hips to press against his.

He let out a gentle groan, nipping at your jawline. “What can I say? I wanna take my time with ya…”

You scoff, smile evident on your face as you trailed your hand down. It rested at the top of Lucifer’s pants, slowly undoing his belt. “But I thought you were here to have fun, sugar… where’s that needy attitude now?” you mutter back, placing the belt next to you two on the mattress and trailing your hands down again to push down his pants, just enough to…

“Well, you’re gonna take away my fun by rushing me,” Lucifer frowned, immediately grabbing you by your wrists and pushing your hands away. “Fun doesn’t mean quick, sugar,” he mocked. “Let me play a bit.”

He gently pressed your hands down against the mattress, a silent signal to keep them there, before trailing his hands along your chest. He grinned down at you, slowly unclasping the hooks from your corset and throwing it aside before beginning to undo your shirt. “Beautiful- best part of this town.”

You shudder at the touch to your breasts, letting out a small laugh. “Do you say that to all the girls you bed?”

He looked at you with a raised brow, unbuttoning your shirt all the way as he obviously began to lose his patience with you. “Haven’t done this in years, baby. You’re special, don’t you worry.” 

He tossed your shirt to the side, straddling your hips and running his hand along your jaw. He ducked down, kissing your lips and nipping them immediately. You opened your mouth, tentatively, which he took advantage of and invaded your mouth with his smooth tongue.

You gasped, his tongue working wonders as you were able to taste yourself, and you lifted a hand to place on his hip as an attempt to get him to not stop.

He pulled away, though, and stared down at you with narrowed eyes. “I thought it was obvious I wanted you to keep your hands to yourself, but apparently you didn’t pick up on that.”

You opened your mouth to complain, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed his belt, which made your mouth go dry. “Gimme your hands, love.”

You stutter, tongue feeling as if it was swollen while your hands remain still. “Lucifer, you won’t-“

“C’mon baby,” he interrupted, gaze turning slightly cold which sent shivers down your spine. “Hands.”

Your eyes widen and you shakily hold up your hands, embarrassed at the feeling of your pussy already dripping onto the bedsheets.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll still treat you right. I’d never hurt you,” he reassured, slightly alarmed at your shaking, but he gave you a look that you knew was him telling you you could stop whenever.

There was the man that you saw at the bar. Bless his heart, he’s too kind.

“I’m…” you trail off, thighs nearly twitching when he pushes your hands against the bed frame. “I’m just fine.”

He wrapped the belt around your wrists and the headboard of the bed, finally fastening it which caused your thighs to press together.

“Goddamnit will you PLEASE get on with it,” you felt your voice betray you, causing Lucifer to pause as soon as the belt was fastened. 

He pulled away, going back to hovering above you with a smug grin. “Darlin’… you like the belt?”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?”

“Oh, touchy… you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he laughed at you, situating himself so that he could reach back, pushing past your thighs and pressing against your clit in between your folds, before reaching down further and pressing one finger into your hole. 

Your eyes closed, body relieved at the attention as you slumped against the mattress and gently tugging against the belt around your wrists. 

“You do like it.”

“Perhaps,” you muttered, looking down at him. 

“Oh, no need to be shy… it’s alright, you can tell me anything,” he teased, slowly pulling his finger out of you, then slowly thrusting back in. 

You gasped, now realizing just how powerless you were at the fact that your wrists were completely restrained, looking at his face as he pressed barely-there kisses along your sternum.

He teased the pad of his second finger around your entrance, then slowly pushed it inside to join the finger that was already there. He was stretching you out.

“Lucifer… please go faster, I’m fine, y’know. Don’t need to worry about me.”

He looked down at you and smiled, pressing a quick and soft kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look at you as he rubbed against your walls with his fingers. “Ya sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He chuckled, pulling his fingers out of you before trailing them up to his face and licking his tongue along the two fingers slowly, savouring the taste. “You’re just perfect, love.”

You shrank under the praise, heart skipping a beat in your chest at his actions. He pulled away though, tugging down his pants. You watched, with hardly any shame at all, as he throws them to the floor, and he climbs closer to you again, leaning over you as he uses one hand to press himself against your entrance. He looks up at you with his hair slightly in his eyes and an excited grin stretched across his lips.

“You ready, angel?”

You smile, surprised that he checked in with you so suddenly, but it made your heart swell. “Yes… of course,” you nod. 

He gave you a soft smile which made your chest tighten, and he pushed himself into you slowly. Your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat, and once he noticed that your breathing stopped, he stopped too. “Breathe, sweetheart… breathe.”

You gasped for breath, probably louder than you realized, and your wrists slacked then tightened against the belt. “Keep going,” you whispered, words barely falling out of your lips.

“Okay, just… tell me when you need me to stop, alright? I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he soothed, leaning up and pressing careful kisses against your cheek as he pushed in further.

Tears welled in your eyes at the stretch, your back arching and your jaw nearly going slack. Lucifer tightened his grip on your hips, keeping you still.

But then he kept going, and your eyes squeezed shut at the lack of control. But you weren’t panicking. 

There was something about the smell of dust in his unkempt hair against your face, and the way his body slotted against yours, that just made you trust him completely. Which was… jarring, to say the least, since you just met him.

You grew used to the intrusion, even if it did just keep growing and growing. But then his hips slotted against yours, and you were finally able to breathe again. 

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Easy for you to say…” you panted, smiling at him when he pulled back to look at you. 

“Mmm… not THAT easy. You have no idea how much it’s taking for me to not fuck you into this bed right now.”

It was then that you noticed that his arms were shaking, and you smiled a little to yourself. He felt this way just for you?

“You can go, baby… just go slow, please,” you instructed, holding back a laugh at the way his face lit up.

“God bless ya, darlin’,” he laughed breathily as an attempt to tease you, gently pulling out, which made your wrists unintentionally tug aggressively against the headboard. 

But once he slowly pushed back in, your vision went white and you let out an unfiltered, drawn-out whine. You didn’t want to say it out loud, but holy shit… he was huge.

“You’re so pretty like this, love. Look at you…”

You open your eyes a bit, peeking at him only for them to roll back when he pulls out and pushes back in again, this time a little faster.

“Sound so good, angel. And you feel so good, too. Easily best part of coming to town.”

You let out a breath, or at least tried to, since your lungs were absolutely fluttering at the feeling and his words.

“Lucifer, you can go… faster,” you muttered, looking at him with watering eyes and a wobbly smile.

He cursed under his breath, examining your face for a moment before pulling out again. The friction against you made you cry out, weak and soft, only for him to push back into you.

But this time he didn’t stop in between thrusts, he just kept going, which made your hips twitch.

“Fuck…”

He groaned, turning his head so that his lips pressed against your ear. His breath hit your skin, causing you to shiver against his hold.  He liked the reactions you were having, though, which made him double down and push your limits even more.

“I felt that, baby… You’re reacting like that just for me?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, nodding as an answer. He pulled back a bit to look at you, giving you a smug grin before lifting your hips slightly and deepening his angle.

“Oh- oh…! Lu-!”

“I bet you’d like me to come back every now and again, just for me to fuck you like this over and over. Ain’t that right?”

“Yeah-! Right, Lucifer!” your voice hiccuped with the way your body moved against the bed with each of his thrusts, eyes half-lidded.

“Lucifer, wait,” you gasped, jaw clenching. 

He stopped in his tracks, not moving as he looked down at you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not. I feel so good… just… please undo the belt. Please.”

He immediately nodded and reached over you to the headboard, quick to listen. As soon as the belt was unfastened he threw it off the bed and massaged along your wrists, trying to soothe the slight burn. 

Instead of letting him continue you grabbed his hands, pushing him away before sitting up, pulling him back so he was laying down. You straddled his hips, placing your against his chest to keep him there.

“What are you…?”

“You pick up on things easy, just wait.”

You reach back, lining him up with yourself before lowering down onto him. He let out a breath, instantly gripping onto your hips.

“Baby, sweetheart, I can’t keep this up that long if ya-“

“I know, that’s the point,” you smile down at him, raising yourself and lowering again.

He let out a noise. You’d never heard anything like it, it was soft and high pitched, but you’d do anything to hear it again. 

You looked down at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open as you rose and fell again, then again, until you started consistently bouncing.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so goddamn tight.”

“Just for you, baby.”

Something in him shakes and he slams you down on his cock, forcing a near scream out of your throat. 

“Just for me?”

“Yes- yes, just for you!” you exclaimed in surprise, doubling down and speeding up your pace.

He tilted his head back in response, becoming lost to the feeling which just made you shudder all over.

“You’re so pretty, love… so gorgeous, I could watch you do this for hours,” he praised, tracing along your hips before tightening his grip again. 

Your face flushed and your body shuddered at the praise, the friction from your bounces starting to get to you. Lucifer noticed and trailed one of his hands down from your hip and immediately circled his thumb around your clit. 

“Ah! Lucifer, I’m close, are-“

“Right there with ya, angel,” he smiled at you, albeit a little wobbly since he was barely containing his own whimpers.

You clenched around him, bouncing stuttering only for Lucifer to help you out with the hand that was still on your hip.

“You’re such a good girl- so good you make me want to stay,” you heard his weak voice whisper in between his whines, causing your eyes to widen as you looked down at him.

You gasp, your back arching and your stomach fluttering as you climax. Your eyes just barely caught Lucifer’s expression while he finished himself, his eyelids nearly falling and his breath hitching before letting out a strained whimper while he finishes inside you.

You cried out at the feeling of him spilling into you in the middle of your peak, doubling over as your moans stutter and hiccup while you finally get over your peak.

“You did so good, love…”

He slowly sat up, breath still erratic as he gently and carefully pulled out of you which caused you to whimper from your own sensitivity. 

“That’s it… just breathe, you did so well, darlin’.”

He laid you back down, grabbing a quilt that was folded on the bottom of the bed and placing it over you so you’d stay warm. You smile at the soft fabric against your skin and watched his hand cup your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your face. He delicately took your hair out of its braid, massaging your scalp once your hair was down and splayed out along your shoulders. 

He moved to lay down behind you under the quilt, slotting his body against you from behind and hugging around your waist. “Can I stay the night?”

You decide to not let the reality that he has to leave hit you yet. With how his arms felt around you, with this new feeling in general, is presence just felt… right. Might as well pretend that the feeling doesn’t have to leave for a little bit longer.

“Of course you can.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading <3 sorry that it took me so long to write, I literally hate school with a passion :)

Taglist: @heavenlyraindrops

[jamiesfootball]

Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

“what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.”

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

You ever think about how in spite of knowing their exact locations, the game never gives any indication that templar Carver has reported his mage sibling, Merril (a blood mage) or Anders (an abomination) to his superiors?

I do think about that a lot, even though I tend to ignore the Templar Carver route because I know Warden Carver to be true in my heart and soul... but I totally get the appeal of Templar Carver within DA2's narrative, y'know?

It's so fascinating, really. I've never played a run with Templar Carver, I just can't bring myself to do it, so I know I'm missing out on smaller details of it. From what I do know, this drives me crazy in the best way possible.

Deciding whether to bring him or not to the Deep Roads is such an important choice, not only because it affects his fate, but how it affects his relationship to Hawke. He tells you that he wants to go, he makes it very clear that it's important to him that he goes, too... and Hawke can just leave him behind and it hurts him. I don't think that registers enough with some people just because of how Carver is, like it doesn't matter what Hawke's motivations are [staying behind for his safety, not wanting to bring him, thinking someone should stay with Leandra, etc] it still hurts him because it tells him that Hawke doesn't need him, and Carver wants to be needed.

And yes, there are other contributing factors to why he joins the templars, but it doesn't matter what your relationship is to him, it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't turn Hawke or his companions in.

Sure, the meta reason is it's a video game and you're playing the main character. You're never in any actual danger of being captured by templars, and you're not going to lose your companions to them that easy.

But if we look at it through the narrative and Carver's character, that's when it gets interesting. You can max out his rivalry and be an utter asshole to him [there's a point where you can call him a brat and mock him for being stuck in your shadow, like Hawke can be real cruel about it] but it doesn't matter, you're still his sibling. He even makes a remark about how you might not know what that means [referring to leaving him behind] but he does. He refuses to kill Hawke in the end when Meredith makes the order, too.

Which can I just point out that Hawke has the option to let Bethany die in the end if she's with the circle and they side with the templars? Just saying, Carver NEVER does that no matter what, but Hawke has the option to betray Bethany like that and it's fucked and interesting and it makes me want to eat my chair-

As for Merrill and Anders, I think he knows that if he turns either of them in, then the chances of Hawke being brought in as well skyrocket. They're all friends, they're in the same group... bring one in, and you'll probably get the other two.

I also think Carver just genuinely likes Merrill. Yes, I'm a Carver/Merrill shipper, so I have a bias, but even if you remove anything romantic from their dynamic I believe that's true. Of all the companions, Merrill is the only one who doesn't make fun of him, or find him annoying, in party banters. He never snaps back at her, like he's never defensive with her, he's just a little awkward and nice.

Like, HE'S SO NICE TO HER! He tries to find common ground with her! She asks him about "swording" and he's taken aback by her saying he's good at it, but you KNOW that if someone like Anders asked him the same question, he's be all, "shut up, you're stupid, stop talking to me >:["

Think back to that banter Carver can have with Aveline post-act 1 where they're talking about how the guard wasn't the right place for him [hard disagree with you there, Aveline] and Carver says he was a bit of a tit, wasn't he.... and every companion will agree except Merrill. She doesn't say anything, whereas other companions like Anders will be like "ugh maker YES" and if you have a purple Hawke, they'll go on to other ways Carver was a tit like?? I think Carver and Merrill got along and he doesn't want to turn her in because she was nice to him! And she's a blood mage! He knows what will happen to her if the templars get ahold of her! He doesn't want to see her made tranquil or killed!

At that point, he's witnessed what bad blood mages can do, assuming you've brought him along for those quests, but even so. He knows Merrill isn't like that and he likes her, so of course he's not going to turn her in despite that being his literal duty.

Then there's Anders who Carver doesn't like. If you're in a romance with him, Carver will tell him that's why he doesn't turn him in but c'mon Carver, you know that's not the only reason. My theory is Carver may not like Anders and he knows the man's got a spirit of justice inside of him... but Anders also runs a free clinic. If he's ever taken in by templars, then so many people [including a LOT of Fereldan refugees] will be without free health care and will suffer for it. I think in Carver's eyes, Anders might be irritating but he doesn't more good than harm. Carver knows first hand how shitty refugees and poorer people are treated in Kirkwall. Anders' clinic is the one place they can go for help and actually get it, and he's not going to be the one to take that away because the templars say "magic bad."

So yeah, I'm not as informed about the Templar Carver route, but I do think about how if I did do that route, he wouldn't betray Hawke or their companions no matter what and what that says about him.

[plusvanity]

Yesterday, I wanted to say that people who blocked me did the wiser thing, but today, I want to touch on a recent issue, a hugely (intentionally) misinterpreted and degrading problem.

The controversies that people started to spread about me literally make me sick to the stomach.

They don't give a fuck about my countless explanations of how this ship is my comfort ship, designed to help me heal from severe abuse, self hatred, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety.

I try to switch from unhealthy coping mechanisms to something that is both productive, helpful and most of all, harmless (because it's imaginary).

They felt the need to turn something that I created as my own personal fictive escape into a gross sadomasochistic, abusive and extremely toxic 'excuse' for 'why is this ship and not that?'. My guts twist for seeing such cruel assumptions when I have one thing that makes me happy (a story, a healthy narrative) viciously turned into a gruesome scenario that is not what it is at all.

The fact that they accuse me of shipping fair-skinned, blonde people is also the biggest hypocrisy that they could come up with when they themselves forget that Øystein's natural hair is blond and his eyes are blue in their own double-standard ship.

The fact that accuse me of romanticizing self-harm while they themselves 'like' (I have proofs) and approve art of EuroDead self-destructive romanticism shows their duplicitous and impostor nature. This is not to be taken as an insult, but an obvious fact concluded by their behavior.

My ship has little to do with physical looks and everything else to do with the in-depth psychology. It's not me, PlusVanity who says that there's a gigantic overlap between highly-autistic traits and trauma response (in personality disorders), it's Freud, Jung, Lacan's teachings and many other's scholars, neurologists and psychiatrists came to this conclusion many many years before you and I were even born. If you, dearly-opinionated friend, think that you can prove to these honorable psychoanalytical figures (and me, of course) otherwise with credible and well-documented research and not your 'I don't like that just because' synthetic opinion, I will gladly listen to what you have to bring up. I am well-versed in the philosophical and psychological domain, and I can provide solid arguments to everything I claim.

It's more than just unfair to point the finger at me, accusing me of a ludicrous sadomasochistic and 'subliminal racial element' in my art just to satisfy your late frustration with an ' good-enough explanation' for something that you never even bothered to look into because otherwise you would know that you are wrong. I'm not spiteful, I'm just pointing your flaws in logic as straightforwardly and inconsiderable as you seem to point mine, but it's not like you will actually try to understand what I'm saying because this must imply 'admitting defeat' and a kick in the ego, so you don't even bother with my transparent explanations. That's alright.

This message is for the people who are open and mature enough to read the motive behind my art and writing. This monologue is not for the ones who blindly accuse me of horrible things or a hidden agenda that I don't have or try to promote.

If you think that you know better than me, you simply don't. Why might that be? Because I am the author, because you don't think with my brain and you have no access to what I stand for, other than my words and actions and neither my words or actions stood for any type of abuse or political extremism.

You also put words into my mouth by calling me a fan of Varg, when I'm most certainly not, but I mean you hate me, of course you will say such things. Everyone who's following me knows that I not only hate Varg, but mock him daily for his spiteful persona.

I do not engage in any drama, I am not here to fight anyone.

I will only have civilized conversations (if openness exists). I am here to be and share with my friends the one thing that makes me happy. To subjugate me for simply having a different view than yours is tyranny and black and white extremism.

Pairing real people is morally bad, but this includes all real people. Not just Varg and Pelle, but Øystein and Pelle too. Doesn't sound fair now, does it? I understand why.

Anyone is free to believe anything, but a conspiratorial opinion will never compare to the ultimate truth that only the author can provide.

Please block me if you wish for. This is a far more mature approach than lurking here or sending hate. I hope this is constructive.

To sum it up, I'm beyond hate and ingoing frustration. I will gladly wish my late-proclaimed haters a wonderful day even if they roll their eyes. 🖤

You cannot change options, you can only provide your insight.

Be kind, be open, be alright 🖤

I wish this post can be shared so a lot of people can read this 🙏

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think it is extremely weird that parts of this fandom have just definitively decided that the principle antagonist is an irredeemably evil monster because he has his minion burn down a brothel (where said antagonist was born and abused and watched his mother suffer and die) with people still inside it, then hires a bunch of sex workers to rape his rapist dad (who raped so many women that he lost track of who his victims were, and ended up approving of a marriage between said antagonist and his own half-sister as a result) to death

when the protagonist’s chosen means of killing the people who razed the only home he’s ever known and murdered his foster parents involves 1) choking a woman to death by forcing a table leg down her throat, 2) forcing that dead woman to bite off a man’s genitals, and 3) forcing that man to eat his own legs. this plus the protagonist’s multiple day-long murder-torture bender where he kills and tortures a bunch of other wen sect disciples in front of each other, and owns doing this because it was fun and would have been too boring to kill then quickly. like jiang cheng and lan wangji find wwx by following the trail of bodies he leaves in his wake ok, that’s pretty awful

if wei wuxian can do these things and and still be considered good, then that only makes it harder for me to understand why jin guangyao is denied goodness

fun fact: when i describe both of these characters to people who are totally canon-blind and know nothing about mdzs, cql, or any of the other adaptations, the initial response from most people isn’t “hmmm but what was the protagonist’s interiority while he was making that woman’s corpse eat that man’s junk? was he very sad about it? that will surely tell me whether his corpse desecration and autocannibalism is morally defensible or not.” most of the time what they say is “ray what the fuck are you reading, both of those guys sound like evil people, i don’t care what their motivations are! also get help”

it just seems weird!! that certain corners of this fandom have decided that goodness is not only a quality that wwx intrinsically possesses (something i don’t necessarily disagree with fwiw), but that he gets to be defined by this goodness above all else. wwx gets situated at the centre of all subsequent discourse as the moral lighthouse of the whole novel—even though he has done objectively heinous shit entirely to satisfy his own desire for vengeance. doing all of those things does not detract from his fundamental goodness, in their estimation. or if it does, it doesn’t detract enough to significantly impact his role for them as the goodness barometer in the novel.

and that’s fine with me actually! if this is where the bar for what it means to be good in this novel is set, then it should logically follow that jin guangyao’s heinous actions can similarly be ‘offset’ by paying the appropriate ‘goodness tax’ through his other canon actions (e.g., loving and remaining filial to his mother, saving and protecting lan xichen, saving nie mingjue, funding the rebuilding of the cloud recesses, caring for his orphaned nephew, etc). he has done yuckydisgusting things, yes, but so has wwx! and as we all know, wwx is not evil! so jgy isn’t evil either!

…but this isn’t what happens in these conversations, because jgy seems to begin all fandom discourse at a goodness deficit that is depressingly reflective of the goodness deficit he experiences in the novel post-canon. (or, honestly, at the beginning of his life as meng yao.) and unlike wwx whose character gets to be defined principally by his goodness in spite of his genuinely horrendous acts of violence, jin guangyao’s whole character becomes defined by his horrendous acts of violence in spite of his goodness, even though the text demonstrates clearly that their capacity for both good and evil is evenly matched.

tl;dr it would be nice if the goodness goalposts would stop moving around so much in these discussions. maybe we should just get rid of them entirely.

[pupyr0arz]

Amab!gn!reader x stalker!soap. Dubcon/nc (sexual harassment), stalking, etc. soap is an awful ex. Mentions of murderous intent, guns, assault and abusive behavior.

you’re still working on the timing. You can’t bring it up too early, it’s a date killer and you refuse to let him win. It’s what he wants, to send any prospective other scrambling for the door, and even if spite is the only thing keeping you in the scene it’s a damn good motivator. You’re going to be happy with someone goddamnit, and it’s not going to be his toxic ass. It’s not like you’re asking much, just a casual relationship. You’re not one for commitment, marriage isn’t something you’re willing to consider, and honestly these days who is?

Aside from him, at least. You’re not sure if that counted. The ring he bought seemed more of a collar, the creep.

Never doesn’t work either, he makes sure of that. You’re not sure how he finds you, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to assume he can pick your shitty locks. You don’t move, you don’t have the cash for that out of the blue and you’re seventy five percent sure he’d track you down in a week. He was always the type. The other twenty five percent was him finding you after two weeks. You really should be smarter about who you date, an army man is one thing but one with ties to intelligence? Awful stuff to separate yourself from. You’re smart enough not to thrash, he’d only pull you down tighter. The trick to quicksand is floating away slowly, calm and measured.

The third date, if it’s going well, seems to be a nice time to bring it up. Wind the conversation into personal topics, troubles, issues, soothe them and give whoever you’ve brought back a shortened version of events. The best version of this conversation you had was at four pm, high off your ass on a hot girl’s couch where the two of you ate canned sardines and crackers and you put your head in her lap. It’s just an annoying ex who kept sniffing around the area, you know how it is. Girls pat your arm sympathetically, guys tell you they’ll send him packing. It’s all self defense tips and reminiscing on psycho exes. Guys don’t get stalked as often, or they don’t talk to you about it as much, but you hear a lot of horror stories. One time a girl lifts her shirt and presses your hand to a scar where her ex stabbed her with a knife.

You take some solace in that he’s never been violent with you. He has a temper, sure, but compared to the many, many opportunities he’s had, he’s only sent maybe one person to the hospital. He’s more than intimidating in person, built like a brick shithouse and he gets that look in his eyes that tells anything with a pulse and anything registering on a brain scan to get the hell out. Sometimes you dream of him handling bombs with that look in his eyes. You don’t know if you find that crazy, suicidal hate is more unsettling, or the warmth he still has when he looks at you.

he’s a ‘chivalrous’ stalker. Follows you around at night when he’s in the country. Burner phones leaving messages and texting constantly, he still sends you money. You use it, of course, you’re in no position to deny yourself the nest egg, but you hate how he acts about it. Every glance to him, acknowledgement of his existence or not, hell the way you pour your coffee seems to be some coded invitation to him. He leaves long voicemails of him, hand on his dick as he alternates between obsessing over your body, your dick, the time you had together, and with how worried he is about you. It’s pathological, some fucked up fetish of his to imagine you like that, an object he keeps locked away and dusts ever so gently to avoid bruising. It makes you want to punch him until his stupid, pretty face is unrecognizable and bury him in the woods. Your face burns as you try to look back the disgusting, annoying fucking babbling for the sounds of his moaning.

Like clockwork, he stops by. Jiggling your locks open and fucking around with your things. He doesn’t steal anything, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because you left your stuff when you broke up and hit the road. You used to buy shitty dollar store cameras, but he’d break them and leave thumb drives of him jacking off in your room, so you stopped the habit. He’s never had an ounce of shame in his life, and it doesn’t seem to have changed when it comes to you. He’s more brazen, if anything, when you’re dating. You play hard to get and all he wants to do is chase the bone more, stupid dog with his eye on a moving car.

You never say his name to your new flings, he babbles yours in the calls and messages. Once he mails a notebook, full sized, where he’s spent every page but one with nothing but your name. You called him a schoolgirl, and your boyfriend at the time had given you a wide eyed look of general horror. Admittedly, he’d been spooked by too many run ins with an aggressive stranger, but it was a stupid reason to break up in your eyes.

Maybe it was more than a little impulsive, but the number you’ve memorized still works. Still, you’re more than a little tired of the whole mouse and cat game. And you’re a bit drunk. Whatever, it’s not like you’re much better sober these days. You’re never rational when it comes to him, otherwise you would’ve tried to kill him by now.

It rings.

You know you’ve timed it right when he doesn’t pick up, off killing and fighting and being the scariest thing in the dark. You don’t say much, but you don’t need to. He was always sensitive when you two dated, and he’s gone above and beyond to prove the desperation of the depths he’s sunk to. You’re not trained to read people, and your only experience with fighting was kung fu at thirteen. But this fight is going to be on your own goddamn terms from now on.

You’ve gone to the range without him, a week before. He lamented about it like you shot his dog instead of some paper targets. You’re no gun nut, but you’ve learned a couple things.

Load. Aim.

“Johnny.”

Click.

[fantasy-things-and-such]

OC questionnaire

Thank you for the tags Here, here and Here by @the-golden-comet, @the-ellia-west and @willtheweaver. sorry for being late >~<

My questions:

1. What is one hobby you have that may surprise others? 2. What is one possession that you would not part with under any circumstances? 3. What is one supernatural ability you wish you had? 4. Who do you trust the most? 5. Where would you like to live, if you could choose? 6. What keeps you motivated 7. How much water do you drink on average? 8. Favorite phase of the moon and why? 9.Who's your favorite person and why?

Lets get started!

1. What is one hobby you have that may surprise others?

Lilli: "I weave. People aways find that surprising 'cause my hands are soft."

Tira: "uh... I play the guitar! I don't come off very musical, though."

Camellia: "Singing." *Lilli laughs* "What?! Cheverouse likes it too."

Erain: "Hobbies? man... Its not really a hobby, but I dooo bake."

2. What is one possession that you would not part with under any circumstances?

Lilli: "this pendant. It's the only thing i have from my mother."

Tira: "hmm... oh! Probably this

Camellia: "don't be ridiculous."

Erain: "one thing? Practically, the E.S.K- but if we're talking personal belongings, this little doodle that my baby sister drew before i left. I keep it right here, in my shirt pocket. For good luck."

3. What is one supernatural ability you wish you had?

Lilli: "healing."

Tira: "Flight! well, i guess its not really a wish anymore."

Camellia: "Foresight, i guess."

Erain: "healing. by far the most useful, in my eyes."

4. Who do you trust the most?

Lilli: "...Millie, my sister."

Tira: "the most? mmm... Lilliwiess is a contender, for sure. I think she's number one, actually."

Camellia: "is 'myself' an acceptable answer? no? fine... i guess anyone in my squad, then."

Erain: "Jayson. He's a good leader."

5. Where would you like to live, if you could choose?

Lilli: "with Tira, so probably Eastern tarn."

Tira: "With Lilli! ...she said with me, didn't she."

Camellia: "er... i dunno. home? I've never thought about it."

Erain: "Northern or eastern tarn. actually, Kjerag might not be too bad...hmmm."

6. What keeps you motivated?

Lilli: "my squadmates."

Tira: "My unborn sister. or brother, i don't know, actually. I'll get to see them once I graduate here... I cant wait."

Camellia: "spite." *Tira and Lilli both laugh.* "of these two fuckers. i swear."

Erain: "Family. gotta keep pushin' for them, y'know? its the least i can do after everything they've done for me."

How much water do you drink on average?

Lilli: "uh... alot. im not sure. I drink when I'm thirsty and after sparring, so..."

Tira: "oh, probably... 4 liters? rough estimate? that feels like alot, is that a lot? I'm probably totally wrong."

Camellia: "fuck if i know."

Erain: "based on the amount of excercise we do as knights, probably alot. i'd say alot, though, mabye somewhere in the ballpark of 3-ish liters."

Favorite phase of the moon and why?

Lilli: "mmm... Full. its majestic."

Tira: "...I dont like the moon, actually. it.. has some bad memories. so New moon, i guess?"

Camellia: "probably half moon. I was born under a half moon."

Erain: "Half moon, mostly for practical reasons... it gives light on a good night. Plus, it's damn pretty to admire."

Who's your favorite person and why?

Lilli: "Tira. why is this a question?"

Tira: "...Why is this a question...? my answer's obviously Lilliwiess, but..."

Camellia: "favorite person? fuck me... Cheverouse isnt too bad."

Erain: "uhhhh.... My baby sister. she's just... so cute."

Your questions:

What's your favorite letter? do you read? if so, what's your favorite book? Who's your favorite Least-favorite person?

Tagging(gently):

@wyked-ao3 @aesthetic-writer18 @emilynotfound @agirlandherquill +open tag

[venacoeurva]

...I know people in this day and age think any collaborative effort can fix things, often despite reality (ex. the MULTIPLE tumblr blackout protests over the last like 10 years across different owners of tumblr that didn’t change shit),

but I think going out of your way to buy things from tumblr en masse as a “well then they’ll be profitable and won’t have to change things to resemble profitable sites!” as if the CEO/higher ups are personally going to see this and not AT MOST just go “oh we made money, sick, Anyway.” is just. the most naive and frankly 5-year-old level of problem solving unrealistic idea if you think about it for more than 5 seconds. People are just so blinded by naive optimism it’s painful.

Staff isn’t going to see your purchases and go on a full redemption arc and restore porn in spite of payment systems’ massive stigma against it or Apple’s restrictions and never ever try to mimic Twitter or TikTok again, or whatever the fuck you’re expecting, they’ll keep focusing on shit tweaks that resemble other sites because those are what keep investors who think they know tech and user wants hooked and they think new people from other sites will come over for that instead of the fact these people are typically escaping those kinds of features.

Staff isn’t your friend, their vying for support like they’re your buddy who is hitting hard times and has been here holding your hand all these years is deliberate corporate marketing, they’re an arm of a corporation that spits in the face of LGBTQ+ people and especially black people for daring to post about themselves while touting themselves as The Queer Site! A diverse site! Look at this AMA we’re doing with someone about Black History Month! and you’re doing nobody a service when you’re unintentionally rewarding a service for getting worse because they will not know nor care about your motives, they just care that they got money and will continue making it worse regardless of you. They’re a corporation, not a small business ran by 10 people who are trying their best. People throwing money at Staff already encourages them, let alone when you buy into the weird parasocial shit they try with us which will continue as they see success with that method.

Like the mere idea of everyone buying the crabs to gift to make the site profitable is just unrealistic (especially in this economy with such terrible inflation and in NA there are issues with the weather and fires, on a site that mostly consists of groups of people who are typically low income or unable to work???), it feels very much like the gofundme pages people set up to raise money for celebrities who have debts who will be fine regardless and definitely don’t need your help. Corporations and CEOs are not your friends, they never will be. They do not care about you and they’re not some poor uwu victim of circumstance.

TL;DR half-assed blackouts aimed at companies that don’t care (that I have seen over and over) and “cr*b day” type efforts are incredibly dumb and will change nothing, and they will not change anything, just encourage them since they see they’re making money during their current marketing schemes, if they notice at all. You pitying them like they’re a poor innocent person is exactly what the corporation wants.

If you want to make a difference give that money to an artist or lgbtq+ people who basically get flagged as mature for Existing, or people who get their posts flagged for criticizing the site, or something, someone who gets screwed over by this site on the regular. It will do far more good than that whackadoo type pipe dream and sit down and think for a second, please.

[isa-ghost]

Birds of a Feather AU - Phil & Crowley's Dynamic

A reminder: Crowley is o!Phil, Phil is hc/c/q!Phil!

More Birds of a Feather:

General Concept/Characters

Vague Plot

Phil is notorious for going out of his way to get on Crowley's nerves at times. It's not that he's malicious, and it's not that he dislikes the guy (but he certainly doesn't Like him), it's just so easy to do and so fun to watch! Crowley can be so immature and predictable at times, it's just so easy for this salty immortal bird bastard to entertain himself by getting on his "tory traveling companion's" shitlist.

And Crowley does it right back. He finds just the right topics or stupid questions to ask Phil. Sometimes he even gets on his nerves without trying to, like when he whines about not having a specific resource or having to put in an effort to get said resources instead of having them handed to him.

Phil is the one that named Crowley that. That's not his name. Phil is not calling him Phillip or whatever his actual name is. "Fuck you, you're Crowley. L."

Inversely, Crowley refuses to call Phil Phil out of spite. Old Man, Bastard Bird, Other Crow Guy, Death Angel Or Whatever. Anything that isn't "Phil" or "Philza." Purely out of petty spite.

One thing's for certain though: Neither of them will sink too low. No going after personal traumas. They're petty, they're just jesting and aggravating each other, not trying to make enemies.

They convincingly act like they hate each other though, and honestly they might just a shred. But the moment there's danger, their true colors show. Phil will launch himself between Crowley and a hostile mob, Crowley takes excessive pleasure in killing baby zombies for Phil, both of them will throw down with a motherfucker for talking shit about the other, Crowley actually finds Phil's stories about past endeavors really fascinating (he loves Antarctic Empire stories), Phil secretly sees great potential in Crowley ("if he can grow the fuck up"). Deep down, they realize they're currently all they have, and they're not gonna take that for granted because neither of them can tolerate the soul crushing feeling of being alone.

Their relationship is NOT familal. You could hardly call them mentor/student, even though that's what they're meant to be. Phil is passing on his centuries of wisdom to Crowley for him to fend for himself properly. And directing the reigns in where they go because explorer brain is locked in, and Crowley needs to learn how to navigate rather than aimlessly wander.

All their actual bonding happens late at night, when they're both unable to sleep because their heartaches are haunting them and their only company is each other and a campfire.

Despite all his bitching and adamant refusal to admit it, Crowley deeply admires Phil once they've been traveling together long enough. His raw power, his seemingly infinite skills, his tenacity and stubbornness. Phil is exactly what Crowley wants to be.

Similarly, Phil won't admit it but he thinks Crowley can not only learn the things he needs to to survive on his own, but has the potential to excel at them so long as he stops being so entitled and turns his snobbism and fear into motivation.

But he's seen many times that Crowley is a coward. There's no other way to put it. And that worries him deeply. He's talked about bits of his past to Crowley, like the fairly recent possession ordeal (Crowley asked about his wings and Phil did Not have a good time with it). The thought of any of Ender King getting in Crowley's head terrifies Phil. It'd be so easy, and he hates that, because he desperately wants to have more faith in Crowley; especially as more time goes on. But he just knows he's too tempted by seemingly easy solutions.

On that note, Crowley may be a "dumb, bratty asshole with a silver spoon in his mouth and no life experience," but he's still observant. He can tell when Phil is grappling with some kinda demons in his head (Phil gets waaay too anxious about being greedy in Crowley's opinion). And Phil can tell the same about him. It's partially what lead them to agree not to pry or harass each other with personal traumas.

Crowley, obviously, is very very jealous of Phil. He has everything he wants and more. But Phil isn't jealous of Crowley almost at all. The only thing he envies are his fully working and unharmed wings. Even so, this could no doubt lead to very explosive arguments between the two of them, because Crowley is jealous of things Phil would NOT take kindly to being envied about.

As much of a fledgling Crowley is when it comes to real world experience and life skills, he still has his strengths, some Phil actually lacks to a certain degree. He can navigate certain social situations seamlessly; he's great at reading tone and expressions, he's spectacular at negotiating, and should the situation require it, he's a decent actor. He'll lay the aristocrat act on thick and pull the "friends in high places" card (though friends in high places is pretty literal in his case since he has no one. It's Phil perched somewhere above and ready to drop down to kill a bitch).

Crowley is secretly a sucker for praise and often goes out of his way to try and impress Phil or do something that'll greatly benefit the two of them in an effort to please Phil. Phil has 100% clocked this and just doesn't say anything. It's vaguely amusing to him.

There's a comical ongoing thing between them where Phil refuses to explain Kristin's existence to Crowley bc "it's too much to unpack" but he keeps accidentally slipping and mentioning her name or referring to his ties to Death. And every time Crowley asks him wtf he's on about, or an actual Rare Crowley Question of Genuine Curiosity, Phil has to scramble to cover his own ass.

You could not pay Crowley enough and you could not bribe Phil with any amount of god apples to get them to hug or physically touch each other in any way that isn't irrefutably necessary. It's practically a miracle if they poke each other or something to get the other's attention.

Despite all their reasons for not getting along, good god do they have a fair few things in common aside from being two very lonely avians. Like their ungodly and sometimes debilitating fear of failure. :)

The longer they're together, the more codependent they'll become on each other. It's a very slippery slope for them both because they're so vulnerable and lonely at the moment. That's exactly what started this entire thing, it could very much just keep worsening, especially when they actually bond.

And once they do bond, good god will they be a terrifying duo. The smarts between them both,,, something something the way crows teach each other and pass information on to their future generations.