#this makes no fucking sense to anyone but me and i am proud

[silentmouthpiece]

I hate to say it, but i might as well.

It would be so easy to become a Jimmy. Hell, there are Jimmy's everywhere, but no one wants to admit or even realize that it would be easy to be just like them.

A problem we have as a people is that as soon as someone commits a horrible or unforgivable act we dehumanize them call them monsters. I'm guilty of it as well. It makes it easier to separate them from us, to believe that no real human could commit such acts. The thing is...they are human. They are like us and we are like them.

Jimmy is human. A severely fucked up one who's gone unchecked to the point of catastrophe, but he's human like us. He sounds and acts like a human, and his actions are very fucking human. His issues that spiraled so out of control are so very human that when I look at them in a certain way I see my reflection in the mirror. I see Jimmy in the ways some people walk and how they talk, but no one ever wants to see Jimmy within themselves. I wish I could say I'm nothing like Jimmy, but I can see all the ways I'd turn out like him if just a few things were different.

If I were a man, would I have absord the toxic masculinity of the fathers and guy friends in my life and all that entails? If I was less empathetic, would I let my resentment at the state of my life control me to the point I can only see the worst in others instead of force myself to maintain a sliver of compassion and optimism? If I wasn't desperate to be self-aware, would my crippling fear of failure and lack of self-worth blind me to the reality that I allowed them to hollow me out and leave me with nothing to be proud of? If a younger me didn't convince myself that I can only punish myself for anything that happens, would I have turned my anger and listlessness into a blade that cuts others instead of turn it inwards or share it with my friends? Would I inflict pain on others once I realized I could fullfil a need by doing so? I could go on.

I am also ashamed to admit that one of my knee-jerk reactions to hurting someone badly (albiet unintentionally) or realizing I was increadibly wrong about something is denial. It doesn't last forever but I will obsess over it for a long time afterwards. It's a nasty feeling and it's an instinct that literally feels like a chain yanking my brain to follow it. Primal fear feels like that as well, and it rears it's ugly head when I'm faced with confronted with reality and consequences of my actions.

I want to go back to college, but whenever my mother brings it up I get locked into a state of primal fear, insecurity and hopelessness because I crafted a reality where I have no skills, goals or ability to pursue a higher education or a life that suits me. Confronting that reality sends me spiraling down a very strong wave of depression that often debilitates me, though I've gotten better at climbing out of it so I can at least focus on my job. It still feels like I'm being compelled to enforce that reality, and that instinct overrides all better senses. It's an unchecked issue that controls my actions.

When I talk to my friends all I can see is that they have something they're skilled at or passionate about, and that they're doing what I told myself I can't. I never thought I was a jealous or envious person, but I think that's because I never resented anyone for what they had. However, I see so many instances and depictions of resentful and malicous envy/jealousy that I know they are typically linked. In a world that's more competitive than I ever was, these emotions drive people to harm each other all the time for any reason one could think of. The worst part is those people can also happen to be friends and family who love each other deep down. It's so damn common that it must be human.

I don't understand the need to force myself on anyone for pleasure or control, so I can't relate or speak on that. It's happened often enough that others can speak on it and that's terrifying, and what I see is so beyond my ability to comprehend as an actual thought process or mentality but it's still very real and human. Animals do it to and humans are animals, but we're not talking about that. I suppose the closest I can get is the callousness I can feel sometimes when I'm absolutely out of patience with someone.

All that to say is... I think I get Jimmy and his inability to accept responsibility and the cognitive dissonance of wanting to be seen as good and capable as he destroys everything and everyone he touches. I get his resentment and jealousy of Curly and that it's so tied deeply with his love for him that it twists into something noxious and all-consuming. I get how his warped perception of others didn't stop him from caring for others (mostly the guys), but it affected how and how much he cares for them. I get the casual cruelty he can dish out and I understand being locked in the worst mental autopilot to avoid the fallout of your reality that you made because couldn't accept yourself.

I hope that all made sense. Jimmy really got me thinking.

[muffinrecord]

I think I like Natsuki's witch the most. Like you know what

This is a whole fuckin mood right here. Sometimes yeah I feel like this. I wanna scream with four mouths and also some cheerleading pompoms. Like FUCK YOU YEAAAAH RAAAAAAAH *aggressively waves hands in the air*

But also

who hasn't felt like this before. Just. Legs straight out.

This is what you do when someone says something to you like "do you want to hear about my religion" and you have to be kind of polite to them so you just plaster a neutral expression on your face and let them do their thing. like yes im physically here and my legs exist i guess but you bet your ass that while i look like this on the outside, on the inside,

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

can’t post this on insta considering a good chunk of my irls follow me there and they wouldn’t get this but i’ve been doing a lot better this week about keeping up with myself, i think

[princekirijo]

Finally getting round to reading the Scarlet Pimpernel (free eBooks my beloved) and while I am really enjoying the story and everything is pretty easy to follow, the sheer royalist tones the book has is a lot

[satyricplotter]

keep on melting my paradigm (you're like candy)

pairing: jason todd x reader word count: a conservative 1.2k im extremely proud of thank you rating: mature warnings: suggestive language, vore-adjacent musings? reader is a little intense also. notes: i've had half of this on my drafts since that chapter of the juni ba dami story came out sjdfs it's a bit weird. title from this gay ass song.

"Do you think I'm creepy?"

Jason hums, hands flexing on the fabric of your jeans. He has an arm slung around your waist, thumb threaded through the belt hoop at your lower back. The other hand rests on the side of your thigh, and this you feel slide just a little as he ponders his answer.

"Pretty sure I wouldn't have you on my lap if I did," he says.

His eyes are closed. They have been ever since you climbed atop him, hands roaming over his face, neck, shoulders. His head thrown back against the swell of the couch's cushion, chest rising and falling in a serene cycle. You brush the tuft of white hair at his forehead back—if you can really call the motion that. It's cropped so short nowadays, there's not really much to brush back. But you relish in the feeling of it poking against the pads of your fingers, a newness to accompany a well-worn habit. You continue to scratch your nails against his scalp. Jason hums, huffs a little. You feel the vibration of his chest against yours. The afternoon stretches slow and syrupy, golden sunlight swallowing you both in and out of shadows. An uncharacteristic idyll broken by your particular neurosis.

"You might," you say. "You people are severely lacking in self-preservation."

"You people..." He repeats, quietly. Amused. Raises an eyebrow but doesn't open his eyes. "You mean the recently dead, or the murderous?"

"The running at night with a cape crowd, rather."

"I don't wear a cape," Jason points out.

"Of course you don't. You've watched The Incredibles."

"Number five on your extensive list of superhero media, if I recall correctly," he says, dryly. He opens his eyes slowly, gaze sharpening on you immediately. A milky grey, almost white—stunning. So stunning. You never tire of him. He jolts you out of your daze by literally jolting you, raising his knee abruptly so you careen further down his lap and clamp down on his shoulders with a yelp. You scoff, he laughs.

"C'mon." He squeezes your waist. "Out with it."

"I fear my fascination with the more... outlandish aspects of your appearance is disrespectful to you," you blurt out.

Immediately, you flush, avert your eyes. Jason has an incredible ability to dissect you open, sink his hands into you and rip out whatever you're trying to hide from him—all with some simple prompting. You hadn't meant to say the truth. Particularly because you know it's silly. You can see it in his face, the way he barely holds back from pulling a face you will most definitely resent. His consideration is heartwarming, considering he doesn't pull his punches on anyone else.

"You worry... about the weirdest shit," he says in the most annoying tone of wonderment. It makes you feel silly—which you are.

"I'm serious," you whine. "You have to take this seriously. What if I'm fetishizing your weird eyes and scarred body?"

"And my big tits?" He ventures.

"And your big tits," you agree.

"And my fat cock?"

"And your—you son of a bitch." You slap his arm as he guffaws. "Be! Fucking! Serious! This is a serious concern! It could be bad for your self-esteem!"

"I don't think you should be worrying about my self-esteem while hitting me. What if my arm falls off? Why don't you worry about that?"

"You're so insufferable." You roll your eyes. "You've been shot before. You can survive some light slapping. Now get with the program. Am I a creep or not?"

"Because you like me?" His eyebrows crawl up his forehead, a little sense of unease settling onto him. "Is it wrong to like me?"

"What? No, of course not!" You exclaim, frowning. "You're great."

"Sure," he snorts. You got a bone to pick with the incredulity, but now's not the time. Jason relaxes back into the couch in the meantime, the grip on your hip loosening. "Then what's the issue. You just like me. Simple as that."

"So much, Jay," you confess, too absorbed in making your point to feel embarrassed about it. "I like you so much. Too much? I feel like if I told you exactly how much, you'd be weirded out by it."

"Not really," he mutters. The hand on your waist slips up to rest at your nape, thumb pressing on a divot at the side that makes you shiver, burrow yourself closer. You drag against him, semi-hard all afternoon underneath you, which is all he wants, and exhale with shaky fortitude.

Jason cradles the back of your head, slowly opens up your neck to him. His lips are sweet as they mouth your pulse point, his breath hot and wet where he kisses. Sure and steady hands hold you in place, big and rough even through the layers of clothes. You want them on your skin, roaming your body. Wanna feel the jagged edge of every scar catch on your every groove and curve. He does this daily; this is no foreign feeling. Jason takes you on lap and holds and kisses you on the regular, and yet, though one may suppose it to be so, no tedium penetrates this daily ritual of affection. As ever, you feel alive and grateful and intoxicated.

You're wrong, Jason, you think dazedly, eyelashes sticking together with the dampness of your eyes, this can't be normal.

Every kiss from Jason is an attempt to suffocate you. His hot mouth closes in on you like a bruise, and you melt into the brute strength, because you, too are voracious. You bite at his lip, feel the sharp jab of lust stab through you at the accompanying grunt. At once you feel the heavy weight of desire and possession build up inside you. He makes you greedy, and selfish, and dangerous. You wanna punish anybody that has ever hurt him, and lock him up so nobody can see him but you, and beg on your knees so that he may never leave you, and it is all ugly and messy and undignified.

"Stop thinking," he rasps, half-pants into your mouth. You try not to whimper or follow after him when he breaks away, presses his temple against yours. He doesn't get it. You don't think he ever will. It's a loving gesture all the same. Your fingers curl on the hem of his shirt.

"I want to sink my teeth into you," you mutter against his cheek. So solid, so warm. Sticky flesh like a babe's. My love, my love, you chant.

His voice is hoarse. "Do you?"

"I think... if I could... if you let me..." You slip down to nibble at his ear, blood pounding on your own. "I'd eat you alive. Bite by bite."

Momentary silence. Bated breath. His skin under your teeth.

Jason laughs. He holds you closer. "Are you sure?" He sounds so playful. "It'd take you a while. There's a lot of me, after all," and this he punctuates by canting his hips up, grinding against you.

"Ugh," you huff, abruptly gripping onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He sure knows how to keep you off track.

Maybe that's enough. Maybe he doesn't need to understand. Maybe he just... knows. And accepts it. Your terrible, unbearable love.

You nuzzle against him, cheek to the underside of his jaw. Press a kiss to the juncture of earlobe and jaw, then think better of it and go a little harder, alternating between sucking and pressing your tongue soothingly over the spot. It's something of a slobber, but his fingers tighten on your waist appreciatively.

"I've got time."

Jason smirks. "Then let's get started."

[percervall]

it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 1

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: smut, dirty talk, mild degrading, oral (m and f receiving), face fucking, fingering, slight nipple play, hinting at m/m, mentions of free use, *gasp* and they were room mates Word count: 1.9k

Part 1 of the Fuck It series

The arrangement was, frankly, absurd. Had the offer come from anyone other than Jenson, you would have kicked them so hard they wished you had punched them instead. Part of you hoped he would have forgotten what he had said while heavily under the influence of too much champagne, but luck was not on your side. 

"Have you thought about my offer?" Jenson asks, innocently blowing on his coffee, making you choke on air. 

"The offer in which I pay my rent by, wait let me check my notes. Ah, yes, 'fucking you'," you reply, voice a lot steadier than you feel. Because truth be told, it had been impossible to not fantasise about getting railed into next week by him- by any of them. Oh, you were well aware of how much your life had become the plot of a rom-com ever since your landlord decided to be an absolute greedy bastard. Become a live-in house sitter for 4 millionaires they said, it'll be fun they said. Liars.

"Oh come on, it'll be mutually beneficial," Jenson argued. 

"Proud of you for using your big boy words, pretty boy but how exactly is this gonna end up in anything other than disaster?" 

"He's hungover and a himbo, why are you bullying him?" Mark mutters, voice still rough with sleep as he literally picks you up and unceremoniously plops you down on top of the counter. There are days where you curse your small stature and his strength, especially when it leaves your brain stuttering to process getting manhandled. 

"We'll set rules. All I'm saying is we're all adults-.." You can't help but snort at that. "Fine, whatever. I'm just saying that I've seen the way you look at them, seen the way your eyes flash with lust and I am pretty sure some truly filthy fantasies, and I know I can speak for all four of us when I say we would love to help you realise those. Also, we don't need your rent money and this is just so much more fun." Well then. You just got read for filth before even having had your morning coffee. Fuck him for seeing right through you. 

"Where's your sense of adventure, nena?" Fernando comments, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Right next to my 'I survived Multi-21' t-shirt," you mutter. It's a low blow, but getting bullied into sleeping with four drivers makes it hard to think.

Mark shoots you a look, eyebrow raised. 

"The mouth on you," he comments, "Seb was very apologetic. Made it up to me in the best possible way. In fact, I should make you apologise to the both of us the same way, sweetheart. On your knees." He whispers the last part in your ear and you cannot contain the whimper that comes out at his thinly veiled threat.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being made to kneel and take cock like the good little girl you are, hm?” 

“Mark-..” You have no idea how to respond to that and keep your dignity in tact. You try to look away but Mark takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“I asked you a question sweetheart. Are you gonna be a good girl for us?” His thumb tugs on your bottom lip and all rational thought leaves you as you nod. 

“Mm, knew JB was right about you. Takes one to know one, I suppose.” You can hear a muffled what the fuck’s that supposed to mean? from the living room as Mark helps you down from the counter. You hadn’t even noticed the McLaren teammates had left the kitchen until just now. 

“On your knees, sweetheart,” Mark nudges you and you sink down onto the floor. The small kitchen runner is the only thing protecting your knees from the cold hardwood floor, but the prospect of sore knees is quickly forgotten now that you’re at eye level with Mark’s crotch. You can clearly see the outline of his hardening cock against his shorts and it has your mouth watering. Mark chuckles as he notices the hunger in your eyes.

“You’re lucky Seb is out for a run. Or maybe I’m the lucky one, getting to fuck this mouth all by myself.” The whimper you let out is involuntarily as you eagerly watch him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down far enough to free his cock. You scoot a little closer, taking him in your hand, tongue darting out to lick away the bead of pre-cum. Mark hisses, head thrown back and that’s all the encouragement you need to suck the tip into your mouth. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, sounding absolutely wrecked already despite you not even having done anything yet. 

“You said something about fucking my mouth?” Mark looks down at you, pupils completely blown and he grins so wickedly, it leaves you breathless. 

“Are you absolutely sure sweetheart?” As you nod in response, he gathers your hair into a ponytail in his fist, angling your face. “Alright then. Tap my thigh twice if it’s too much and I will stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you parrot, and move your legs apart ever so slightly to stabilise yourself. Mark drags the tip of his cock across your lips and you open up for him. He slides in, careful to not immediately choke you. You relax your jaw as much as you can, but god it’s been so long since you last did this. Mark sets a slow rhythm, letting the both of you adjust. Looking up at him through your lashes, you can see how he’s trying to hold on to the last shreds of self control, and well. That just won’t do. 

“Mark,” you say, slightly out of breath as you pull back, “you taunted me with using me. So for the love of God, fucking use me.” Mark chuckles and the sound has you aching. He tightens his grip on your hair and slides his cock back into your mouth. Resting your hands on his thighs, you close your eyes as he finally delivers on his promise. The sounds are obscene and if you had a functioning brain cell left, you would have been concerned about the two of you doing this in the kitchen, but as things stand, the only thing you can focus on is Mark’s throbbing cock inching down your throat. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you look at him as you swallow around him. 

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m not gonna last, sweetheart,” he groans, pulling back. You hollow your cheeks while taking deep breaths through your nose, pulling another string of curses from the Aussie. You can feel his cock throb as he grunts above you.

“Gonna-.. Fuck.. So good, you feel so fucking good..” he mumbles, and throws his head back as he comes. 

“You better not swallow, Schatzi,” comes a voice from the doorway. Who are you to disobey? Mark pulls out carefully, tucking himself back into his shorts while Sebastian helps you up from the floor. He carries you bridal style into the living room, placing you down on the couch next to Fernando. 

“Show Nando, baby,” Sebastian all but coos and you carefully open your mouth. The underlying relationships? Questionmark? between your housemates makes your head spin, but judging by the way Fernando’s eyes darken, Sebastian knows something about the Spaniard you don’t. 

“Can I kiss you, nena?” he asks and all you can do is nod. Fernando cradles your cheek, pressing an almost chaste kiss against your lips before he runs his tongue over the seam of your lips. The moan he lets out as he tastes Mark on your tongue has you throbbing. When you break apart to catch some air, Sebastian leans closer and licks away the few drops of cum that spilled when Fernando kissed you. Am I dreaming? you can’t help but wonder. Out loud apparently.

“Very much awake, doll,” Jenson grins as he kneels in front of you, “Something tells me you’re absolutely soaking. Mind if I give a hand? I do so love making people come with my mouth,” he adds and you’re quick to raise your hips so he can pull down your panties, much to Jenson’s amusement. He pushes your oversized shirt up higher and parts your legs. Sebastian moves your face so he can steal a kiss and you moan into his mouth as Jenson drags the flat of his tongue over your oh so sensitive clit. Their hands are everywhere it feels like. You’re pretty sure Fernando has one up your shirt, teasing your nipple while he kisses your neck. Jenson’s are curled around the inside of your thighs as he holds you open for him while Sebastian has one hand on your cheek as he kisses you; the other mirrors Fernando’s. Needing something to hold on to, you bury a hand in Jenson’s hair. He sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning against your cunt as you tug. Breaking the kiss, you throw your head back with a moan of your own while you grind against Jenson’s tongue. 

“Need.. Fingers.. Please, Jenson, need your-.. Fuck, oh God..” Despite your incoherent state, Jenson understands what it is you’re asking of him as he carefully slides two of his long fingers inside of you. Sebastian and Fernando manage to strip you of your t-shirt, both of them taking a nipple into their mouth. 

“I’m so-.. So close.. I’m gonna cum, please can I cum?” you whimper. Fernando mutters a yes against your skin and something snaps; Your back arches as your orgasm hits you and for a moment you forget how to breathe. The loss of Jenson’s fingers makes you whine but your housemates more than make up for it when Fernando grabs his wrist in order to bring Jenson’s fingers to his mouth, moaning as he tastes you. 

“Just as I thought, you taste delicious nena,” the Spaniard comments with a grin. These men will be the death of me, you can’t help but think while Seb accepts the glass of water Mark hands him. The German driver helps you take a few sips as you slowly return into your body. Something tells you that this only scratches the surface of their underlying dynamics and you are dying to delve deeper.

“Told you it’d be mutually beneficial,” Jenson jokes, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“God, I hate that I’m saying this because your ego is fucking big enough as is-,” you start only for Jenson to interrupt with a that’s not the only thing that’s big, doll which makes you roll your eyes.

“I was gonna agree to your plan, idiot. You proved your point. Twice over. I- eh.. I can see the appeal,” you continue before downing the last of the water. The four men share a look that you can’t quite decipher and it makes you wonder: just what did you exactly sign up for? You pull your shirt back on, suddenly very aware of the fact you’re naked, needing something to act as a barrier between you and this crazy idea. 

“How about we discuss the details after breakfast? Don’t know about you, but I am starving,” Mark breaks the silence. You nod gratefully and let Sebastian pull you to your feet. A part of you is excited to see where this.. arrangement will lead you, but you’re also apprehensive that you might be about to bite off far more than you can chew. 

Welp. Here we go I guess. Updates are gonna be slow on this, so please temper your expectations. Ideas have been brain stormed, things are brewing in the ol' noggin, I just gotta write it 🥲

Massive shoutout to @curiousthyme and @feralnando for helping me brain rot about this and for holding my hand while I descent even further into chaos. This whole part was written while listening to Hozier's Too Sweet and Ethel Cain's Gibson Girl on repeat, so feel free to do with that information as you please

Please let me know what you think. Your comments, likes and tags mean the world to me 💜

taglist

@2pagenumb @dannyramirezwife @daydreaminlewis @emlynblack @forza55 @jaimeleannavanlloman @mehrmonga  @szobosz @raizelchrysanderoctavius @whoreforeveryon

[karlachian]

baldur's gate 3 wyll ravengard grand duke coronation tumblr simulator

🩸 bloodlover

he said WHAT about me

🦴 jonfromshop

i love <3 that we are livign in this day and age of baldurian politics. this is fucking awesome

2,235 notes

🪼 slenderweaver

TWENTY. FOUR.

#AND WHAT WAS I DOING AT TWENTY FOUR. FUCKALL!!!!!

6 notes

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

now why is the coronation happening in the middle of the night. some of us have jobs!

🐦‍⬛ ulderravengard Follow

the new duke consort is kind of like an evil stepmother but for the city

🦴 jonfromshop

AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE READING OUT THE GREAT LAWS RIGHT NOW LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO

4,458 notes

🌊 tavalina

very extremely proud of one of my best friends in the whole world wyll ravengard. can't make it to the coronation because of the whole bein g stuck in hell with my wife thing can a sweet mutual please. keep me updated.

🐺 simfolicity Follow

duke consort astarion lastname has clearly micromanaged the whole thing and ulder ravengard and him might be trying to kill each other during the ceremony. wyll is just happy to be there i think

🌊 tavalina

oh okay so business as usual

🏹 highharper

business as usual

49 notes

💋 bladethatthang

why is NO ONE talking about the geopolitical ramifications of the future grand duke being engaged to marry a CLEARLY evil looking mean cunt of an elf. not to MENTION the problematic age gap.

🩸 bloodlover

mad because he's fucking me and not you????????

💋 bladethatthang

i genuinely wish we all had died with the elder brain

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

HERITAGE POST

#bringing this back for coronation day

38,493 notes

🪼 slenderweaver

i;m sorry. wyll ravengard is TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD? HE SHOULD'VE BEEN AT THE ELFSONG

🛎️ i-live-in-the-dumbwaiter

quite famously he was at the elfsong. like i understand where you're coming from but that was a whole thing. he was very polite about ordering food at 3 in the morrow in the sense that he didn't. do that.

🪼 slenderweaver

oh so now we are fucking doing elfsong pedantics about the TWENTY FOUR YEAR OLD RUNNING OUR CITY.

348 notes

📦 zhentingthatrim Follow

this is so fucking stupid i WANTED to do a coup a mutiny an overthrowing even today during the coronation but no one wants to fucking do revolution anymore. you say can we PLEASE try and kill the new grand duke for trade opportunities and freedom of will. and then they will say well why would i want to do that. wyll ravengard is soooooooooo handsome and sweet and nice. trying to kill him would be RUDE. WE USED TO BE A FUCKING CITY.

🩸 bloodlover

bunk 42, flaming fist barracks, basilisk gate

📦 zhentingthatrim Follow

AYO?????

🔥 florricking Follow

open the door

8,376 notes

✨ princessofhousenightstar

do your required reading you little wretches and understand that i am here fundamentally to talk about wyll where he can't see it. i love the man but sometimes i like to keep things to myself. anyways doesn't he look sooooooo dashing in his coronation outfittttttttt 🥰 i made ittttttt

🪼 slenderweaver

does anyone remember when this was an embroidery blog

🏹 highharper

you are a strange strange little man astarion

#HOW has he not found this blog yet is the question i think

16 notes

🩸 bloodlover

i want ulder ravengard dead

🗡️ bladeoffrontiers

:(

🩸 bloodlover

i want ulder ravengard mildly inconvenienced

🐦‍⬛ ulderravengard Follow

we are literally tumblr mutuals. for your evil and nefarious purposes no doubt.

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

we're all going to fucking die

6,459 notes

🦴 jonfromshop

wh

the grand duke isn't an option because he always sweeps.

[wyldthots]

Mommy's Day Off Pt. 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/wyldthots/761095102467833856/mommys-day-off?source=share

This picks up directly after Part 1. It will make more sense, but you don't have to read that one for this to make sense. Nothing but porn. Minors do not interact. TW: incest, mommy x daughter, strap-on, drugging, weed intox, baby girl doesn't know she's been fed drugs.

After the candy mommy gave me, time stretched in a funny way. For all I know, mine and mommy's day could have already come to a close. I was quite the view, I'm sure. My eyes were clouded and unfocused, my breathing labored, and my swollen pussy was still spread wide and on display for my Mommy.

"You did so good, baby." Mommy grabbed under my knees and pushed them out and down. A shocked gasp left me when a glob of spit landed on my clit and she roughly rubbed it in. Mommy scoffed at my reaction. "You know, they say that weed either makes you hungry or horny. I guess we know which you are, slutty girl. I think another edible will do you good..." Her words don't process in my brain. I'm too focused on my throbbing pussy. She feeds me another weird-tasting candy but I swallow it to make mommy happy. I love it when she's happy with me...

My head is so floaty and my eyes can't stay open... Ugh, my little pussy feels so good with the little circles I keep tracing on my clit. But my hands are on the couch by my side? My eyes slowly shift to my core still spread wide. It's Mommy. My eyes travel up from her fingers rubbing my pussy to her other hand stroking a strapon. Mommy sticks her slick-covered fingers in her mouth and moans at my taste.

"Oh, mommy isn't done yet..." She starts dragging her cock through my messy folds. "Baby, have you ever had anyone inside of you? Other than mommy's fingers..." She slides 2 fingers inside and massages my pussy wall. My mouth drops open and my head falls back as I moan loudly. Mommy laughs at my reaction. "I didn't think so, but don't worry. Mommy's gonna be so, so nice to her baby."

I blink my eyes but they struggle to open again. When they do, I am face to face with her big blue cock. She smiles as she guides it into my mouth. I have never done anything like this, but if it will make mommy happy, I'll do it. I shove her cock in as far as it'll go but I gag and have to pull myself off quickly. I look up at mommy with tears in my eyes, hoping that she won't be mad at me for messing up.

"You're okay, baby. Try again. Take it slow. You make mommy so proud." I grab her cock with one hand while the other moves up her body to cup one of her titties. I moan as I slowly bob back and forth on her cock. Mommy's fingers thread in my hair and tighten. Then she yanks me forward by my hair so that I choke on her fat cock before she pulls her hips back and thrusts again. I choke and gag on my mommy's fat cock until she finally throws me off. I land roughly against the couch but Mommy moves faster than I can think. She grabs under my thighs and yanks my body forward so my ass is hanging off the couch.

"Time for round two. That second candy should be kicking in aaaaannnyyyy second now..." Mommy whispers in my ear before tweaking one of my nipples and sucking on the other before she swapped sides. "Time for me to fuck your pretty pussy. Mommy is going to pop that cherry of yours." She pulls away while she lines her cock up with my dripping hole. "Big breath, love. And out."

She waited for me to follow her direction before gliding her cock into me and stretching my pussy. I thought she would stop and let me get used to her size. That's what they do in all of the stories I read... Not my mommy, though. She didn't stop until her hips rested against the backs of mine. My pussy was spasming and clamping on the large intrusion inside of me. Mommy smiles and pushes on the bulge in my tummy. I moan out and grab at her face to kiss my mommy. I just needed to be close to her.

"Baby, Mommy is so close to you. Do you need closer?" I didn't know I had said anything out loud but I nodded through my teary eyes. Mommy shoved herself deeper into my sopping pussy before sloppily kissing me. She didn't hold back while she pistoned into me. Every thrust forced a yelp out of me. Time was still stretching weirdly, but the next thing I knew I was bouncing on mommy's lap. Mommy fucked up into me while I ground my pussy down and my ass clapped against her thighs. I pull mommy's mouth from my nipple with a pop and I shove my tongue down her throat. I can't remember if this is happening or if this is the best dream I have ever had... My pussy clenches down on Mommy's hard, thick cock while I have the most intense orgasm ever. I collapse on top of Mommy but I can feel her thrust up into me, forcing me to ride her through my orgasm.

"Damn, baby. Look at how messy and puffy your baby cunnie is." Mommy cooed to me as she pulled out of my gaping cunt. "Fuck, this is so hot. Those pot gummies really hit you hard and fast. It's not even noon yet. We are just getting started, baby. Now Mommy needs to teach you how to return the favor..." I can't even open my eyes, but I can feel Mommy lapping at my pussy again.

"Messy girl. Mommy will clean you up while you catch your breath."

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Deer's Prince(ss)

Male Deertaur Yandere x Feminized Male Wolf Hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, feminization, misgendering, inhuman genitalia, breeding, fingering, overstimulation, reader fucked out of their mind, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.1k

You were sprinting through the forest, running from the prince who owned you.

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to move a lot more stealthily and gracefully, but continued captivity had dulled your senses and abilities.

When the kingdom of the deertaurs finally won the decades long war against the wolf folk they demanded many things in the treaty to end the war.

One of the things they demanded was a princess to marry their son, marriage was a typical way to seal an agreement of peace.

But there was no princess, instead they took you. And Prince Inthil had made you into his princess. Treating you like a dainty flower instead of the proud wolf hybrid that you were! Going so far as to even dress you in frilly dresses and address as a girl… and bed you as one too…

Having had as much as you could handle you fled. You tore off the female clothing and ran naked into the woods. Treaty be damned, you didn’t deserve this!

But being pampered as a fragile little lady had made your footfalls heavy and clumsy, it may have been enough to outrun a human, but certainly not Prince Inthil. His deceptively lean body was fast and powerful, four legs carrying him like he was the wind itself.

Suddenly you felt a sharp yank on your arm. You shuddered as Inthil pulled you close, you had thought you were still a bit ahead of the deer man.

His creepy grin looked even more sinister under the light of the moon, his long blond hair softly glowing, and his eyes looking at you with twisted adoration and amusement.

If you had only been looking at his face you may have mistaken him for a beautiful woman. But his muscles, body hair on his human half, and antlers on his head proved otherwise.

“Hello my lady~ You mustn’t run off like that, it is far too dangerous for a little girly to be running around in the woods at night by herself! If you wanted a moonlit stroll, I would have accompanied you~”

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was powerful. He lifted you up and pressed you against a tree.

“If my father knew my wife ran off like that it could start a war! Don’t worry princess, I won’t tell. After all, I am sure it just slipped your mind to ask me to come with you, RIGHT?!”

As he said that last word he roughly pulled you forward then slammed you back against the rough bark. It did not hurt much, but you gasped in surprised.

Prince Inthil took this opportunity and kissed you deeply. Hungrily. His tongue swirling around yours as it invaded your mouth.

You shivered. He finally broke the kiss, leaving you both panting for oxygen.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking so much. I know what will warm you up.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly, but you knew what that look and tone of voice meant.

You growled, baring your teeth as your tail bristled and your ears moved back, almost flat, against your head.

“Awe, I bet a nice breeding will help your sour mood too…”

There were no clothes for him to pull off of you this time. He laid you down on the cool forest floor. You started to move but he stomped a hoof on you with enough force for you to get the memo.

You did what was expected of you. Keeping your face down you arched your ass up.

“My bitch must be in heat to present her pussy so nicely for me~” He cooed in his sickeningly sweet voice.

You were sniffing as tears rolled down your face uncontrollably. You were a man and you didn’t want this, what had you ever done to anyone to deserve being forced to be a girl and raped constantly.

“Don’t cry my love. I always make love with you gently, I know how delicate you are~”

You didn’t care how gentle he was, it was still against your will and sometimes forced with a bit of pain. Like just now when he had stomped his hoof on you.

You could feel his slimy cock rubbing up against your hole, eager to slide into you, but he made himself resist the lure of your insides for a moment while he prepped you.

He did this by using the tip of his prick to massage your entrance, and lather it in precum.

Then he slowly, bit by bit, slid into your ass. He gasped as he entered you.

“G-gods princess , your cunt is amazing~”

You just fit him so well, it was like sliding into a warm glove made specifically for his 10in cock.

He was large and powerful, and like always he had to resist just pounding into you with reckless abandon. It took all his power not to.

But he had to make sure you were treated like the frail lady that you were, it wouldn’t do for him to harm a princess, it would be unthinkable.

So instead he savored it, and eventually his careful ministrations were met with your beautiful little whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You always tried to stifle them away from him, but you never managed to.

His cock was kissing your walls so tenderly, touching that spot inside you that he always seemed to find.

Prince Inthil managed to coax several orgasms out of you, making you pant and gasp with each thrust into your overstimulated body. You couldn’t help humping into your hand, desperately seeking another release as his balls finally emptied into you.

“You make such lovely sounds when we make love~”

He picked up your cum leaking body and held you close, you were so fucked out that you couldn’t do anything, your arms were like jelly from being in that pose for so long.

You muttered something incomprehensible and went limp as he put you over his shoulders. He chose to interpret the noises as a declaration of love.

“Awe, I love you too. I knew all you needed was a good breeding~”

The prince kissed the top of your head softly before smiling to himself. He just had the most wonderful idea. He’d quite like to hear those cute sounds of yours on the way home.

As he slowly hauled you back home he slid a couple fingers into your cum-lubed ass, eliciting more of those cute little gasps and moans, albeit tired and weaker ones, from your pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry darling, when we get back we can mate some more before I clean you up."

[saltnsugarbear]

holy water cannot help you now (18+)

summary: after telling Lip you don't get the appeal of sex, he decides to enlighten you

title from: "Seven Devils" by Florence and the Machine

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: MDNI!!! Lip calls reader kid, mention of recreational smoking, innocent-ish reader, Lip is a little freak /pos, afab reader genitalia, vaginal fingering, oral (reader receiving)

side note: found a way to mention my new ghost undies I love them <3

divider by @strangergraphics

It starts when Lip gives you your first joint.

That fire in his belly as he watches you hesitantly wrap your lips around the bud. It gets worse when you cough at your first hit, watching how your eyes water.

At first, he thought it was a sense of pride. Proud you felt comfortable enough to trust him, proud of you for taking that first hit.

When you asked for a hit from his cigarette a week later, he got the same feeling. This feeling of hunger clawing at his throat as he watched your chapstick leave a faint ring of red around the filter.

"That's all you're gettin'," He tells you, taking the cigarette from your hand. "Don't need y'gettin' addicted.."

His words make you roll your eyes, blowing the smoke in his face. In response, he cuffs you around the back of your head, ruffling up your hair.

"You're addicted to 'em.. Don't know why it matters if I am.." You mutter. You don't mean to pout, but you find it a little hypocritical that he's going to warn you about addiction.

"Yeah, well, if I jumped off a bridge, would you follow me?" It's meant to be a tease, a play on if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you? question.

"Maybe.." You mutter, shrugging your shoulders. Lip wasn't expecting you to answer so honestly, getting you a surprised laugh from him. You watched as Lip brought the cigarette to his lips and shook his head.

"You're ridiculous, kid.." He mutters when he exhales.

"I'm older than you, jackass," you tell him, furrowing you brows as you look at him. Your response makes him roll his eyes.

Lip thought the curling feeling he got when he watched you take your first drag would be a one time thing.

However, when you explained to him you were confused about how sex could possibly feel so good, it just sounded so messy and uncomfortable, that the feeling came clawing at his brain again.

It reared its head at him when he asked you if you had ever watched porn, masturbated, anything that might give you any inkling of an idea about why it was so good.

And it's not that Lip got off on you knowing so little and being so innocent and letting him show you - okay, maybe Lip got off a little at the idea of you being this innocent. He had this perverted sense of pride, knowing he would be the one to tell you to show you.

But that also depended on if you wanted him to show you. Something about some stranger teaching you how to fuck made his stomach churn, made him want to tell off this imaginary person. When he asked you if you wanted him to show you how sex could be good, he wasn't expecting you to say yes.

So when you did, he was caught off guard. He didn't get shy, but he felt himself get anxious at the thought. What if you thought he was weird? What if he ruined this experience for you and didn't change your mind at all?

His thoughts were derailed when you sighed his name softly, looking up at him with doe like eyes. All of his worries are forgotten, focusing on just making this experience as good for you as he can. The way he kisses you is different than how he's ever kissed anyone. It's soft and slow and sweet. Everything he pretends to not be.

This is what led to the both of you sitting on the edge of the bed, Lip with one of his hands under your shirt, feeling up your chest. You're breathing heavily against his hair as his mouth kisses down your neck. Lip bites softly at a few different spots, drawing out a whine from low in your chest. He's quick to start slipping off the bed, his mouth kissing the fabric of your shirt over your stomach. His hands are the last to follow, gripping at your skin softly as he moves down until he's grabbing at your waist.

"Gonna let me take these off?" He asks you, pulling at the waistband of your pants.

"Mhm.." You nod, looking down at him. You watch him smirk softly, bringing his hand up to push against your stomach.

"Lay back then, baby.." He says as he starts undoing the buttons and zipper. You're quick to please, laying back almost immediately. Lifting your hips so he can slip your jeans off is easy, and he slips them the rest of the way down your legs and tossing them to the side. He presses a soft kiss to your calf before he's sitting up to really take in the state of you, taking in the panties you're wearing.

"What the-" Lip cuts himself off. The way he speaks is what alarms you, making you push yourself up on your forearms.

"What?" You ask anxiously, brows tugging together as you study him.

"Ghost underwear?" He asks you, blonde brows quirking up when he looks up with a smirk. His question makes your face flush, twisting your mouth to the side.

"They're cute! And fun!" You tell him. You had been excited about the little ghosts on the front of your new panties. Four of the five had little ghosts pasted to the center, the fifth having a whole pattern of the ghosts.

"You're gonna kill me, kid.." Lip sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach as an apology. He listens to you huff as you lay back down, fidgeting as you wait for him to do something.

The feeling of Lips tongue over your underwear makes you inhale sharply. The hum he lets out as he laps at you through the fabric makes your hips buck into his face. Maybe you can start to understand why people love this.

Lip spends what feels like hours in between your thighs. He spends that time lapping softly at your core, slowly working you open with his fingers. The feeling of your first orgasm is overwhelming, walls clenching tightly around his fingers while he sucks in your clit. He spends even longer down there after that, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as he kisses your clit.

Both orgasms have your legs clenching around him, squeezing him between your thighs. The groans he lets out against you overwhelm you, bringing your hands to push his face away from your core. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him. Lip's chin is shiny with your slick, his face is flushed, and he looks positively smitten.

Your chest rises and falls heavily, blinking hard to clear your head. You watch as Lip uses his thumb to wipe off his chin, popping it in his mouth to clean it off. When he's done, he slips your underwear down your legs before making quick work of his own jeans. Lip is slow to crawl over you, slotting his hips against yours with his cock heavy against your stomach. You can't help but whine softly, lifting your hips to get some sort of relief.

"Look at ya. Already got you begging for it like a slut..." Lip kisses along your collarbone, biting the skin softly.

"Please, Lip," you whine into his ear, rocking your hips up so you can rub against the underside of his cock. Your whining does little to dissuade his words.

"Gonna let me fuck ya? Make y'feel good?" Lip asks as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Gonna let me show y'what you're missin'?"

His words make you feel dizzy, but you're nodding anyway.

"Yeah, gonna fuck ya real good.."

[avaleigh16]

Ghost: Thank you all for coming.

Y/n, wearing a hospital gown: When I heard you couldn't get laid, I dropped everything and came straight here.

Ghost: Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else being part of the "Fuck Ghost Task Force".

König: Yeah, I interpreted that in a different way.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Price, rubbing their temples: I am not proud of what I am about to say, but someone get me a cigarrette.

Y/n: But Price, we don't smoke.

Price: Cut the crap, Y/n. I'm not an idiot. I know that one in five people smoke.

Price: *points at Alejandro* One! *points at Y/n* Two! *points at Soap* Three! *points at Gaz* Four! *points at Ghost* Five!

Price: Now, I am going to close my eyes, and when I open them, there better be a cigarrette between these two fingers!

Ghost: *puts a cigarrette in Price's hand*

Price: Thank you. ...Light?

The Squad: *all simultaneously pull out lighters*

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Ghost: Wait, hold up, why you draw yourself like that?

Soap: Uh, like what?

Ghost: Like with gorgeous, muscular legs.

Ghost: Uh, this is what I look like.

Ghost:

Soap: THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE!

Ghost: Okay, then I want big beefy arms. Hot ones.

Y/n: I wanna have a cowboy hat!

Soap: Okay, arms and hat. * draws them*

Gaz: Ooh, give me a cowboy hat too!

Soap: You can't just take Y/n's hat idea, Gaz! They thought it up all by themself like a good person! Come up with your own thing!

Gaz: BUT I WANNA LOOK COOL!

Price: Put Gaz on one of those stupid baby tricycles.

Gaz: NO!!

Soap: Tricycle, done. * draws it* Alejandro, want anything?

Price, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Soap: A blaster?! No, that's not really our style, Alejandro.

Alejandro, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Soap: You know what, okay. * draws it* But it's just for holding, not for shooting.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Ghost: We're kind of missing something guys.

Alejandro: Cohesion?

Gaz: Teamwork?

Y/n: A general sense of what we're doing?

Price: And Soap is not here.

Alejandro: Oh, and that, yeah.

[prongspoet]

broken hearted | luke castellan.

first time writing for luke, so hope this is okay! tell me what u think in the reblogs i would love to know and get more luke asks!

summary: the curse of cabin 10 makes aphrodite!reader pretend to date her best friend so she doesn't have to cause a heartbreak to her actual crush. even though, at the end of it, she's the only one who had her heart broken. major inspo from this concept.

"You're staring." y/n' best friend, luke castellan, head counselor of the hermes cabin, pointed the fact out, side eying the girl right at his side, after looking at the boy sword training in front of them.

"he's staring back." the aphrodite girl said with a grin. the sunlight bathing her head making it comfortingly warm. luke would know, since he was the one caressing it while she laid down next to him. both of them on the grass, enjoying the late afternoon at camp. "so..."

michael dawson, ares' kid, was, in fact, staring. luke couldn't blame him, the way his best friend looked made everyone pay attention to her. she didn't even had to try. and still, the swordfighting happening in front of them made luke even more sure that mike needed a way so she could notice him. not naturally, but somehow, it worked, since the girl payed attention to him as soon as he started.

"oh well, like mother like daughter, huh. " he continued, in a mocking tone, holding his laugh, raising himself by his elbows, before taking one of his hands to the girl's arm. "your siblings wouldn't be too happy to see the goody two shoes dating an ares' kid, would they?"

"gods, don't fucking say that." she giggled, hiding her face with both of her hands. she went quiet for a second, still staring at the boy. "ares' kid or not.." y/n sighed, pouting slightly. "mike's nicer than the others, he wouldn't deserve to be a guinea pig."

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i have to do.” the girl muttered, with a soft sigh. she couldn't blame her mother, she worshipped aphrodite; her beauty, her power, her knowledge and her actions. that didn't mean that she enjoyed the judgment. the need to make someone else feel miserable just because she could. it wasn't fair. "the first love heart break thing."

"i'm glad i'm not in his shoes, that's for sure." the boy whispered, with a chuckle, still trying to be as quiet as possible. his thumb caressing her arm incessantly. it made her skin burn. in a second, y/n abruptly raised her chin, getting supported by her elbows, getting muffled groan from luke, once it hit his ribs. "what is it?"

"you could be!"

"am i your first love, daisy?" he raised one of his eyebrows, with a mischievous grin stamped on the boys face. the scar in his eye making itself more clear. "you should have told me sooner- ouch!"

"shut up, hero. listen to me!" he knew that tone. and as anyone else who had a single bit of sense, he kept quiet, wanting nothing more to hear her insane idea. "we could pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend." the smile on her delicate face kept getting bigger as she explained her brilliant - yet not completely effective - idea. "i could pretend to break your heart. no one gets hurt, i can stay with mike after is over, and my mom ends up being proud of me!"

the aphrodite girl stared at him expectedly, hoping he would buy her insane plan, hoping he could save her from doing something he never imagined her doing it. luke got quiet for a minute. his eyes were darker than usual. he couldn't stand that. y/n knew her best friend well enough to know that he meant to say something. he never truly did. "you shouldn't be looking for her approval."

"i'm not searching for approval i'm just trying to prove myself.."

"you don't have to prove your devotion to her by doing this." his tone stern, more quiet. colder. "you burn offerings for her every single day. you pray, you're always expressing how incredible she is."

"you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

and suddenly, the idea seemed more appealing than ever. she wasn't using her charmspeak on him. no, luke knew how sugary and sweet y/n's words could be when she wanted to. at that moment, his best friend was just being honest. and even though he could retribute that feeling, luke felt that he needed to do it. just for her.

"yeah," he nodded. defeated. "fine, i'll do it."

"really?" the girl hugged him tight. more excited than ever. "thank you boyfriend!"

"yeah, yeah." he grinned, letting her rest her head on his chest, carefully watching y/n closing her eyes, like nothing else would ever bother her. "just don't be too mean when you dump me."

pretending was easy.

they've always been stuck to each other. having dinner with each other. burning offerings with each other. planning capture the flag with each other. training, swimming, talking, sneaking out to parties. always with one right after the other.

it wasn't supposed to be different, they just had to make it more believable.

"we should be holding hands," y/n pointed out as the couple walked calmly to the main area, where dinner was starting. "silena asked me why we never hold hands if we're dating, so i thought we could make it more..."

"real, yeah." luke nodded, grabbing her hand right the next second she spoke. "c'mon, girlfriend, hurry up." he grinned, and she couldn't help but grin back. "i'm starving."

luke could do that. he could kiss her in front of people, and tell everyone the way they got together. he could hold hands with her, caress her back and almost have a heart attack when she kissed him behind his ear. he could live with that, yeah. it was normal. it was pretending.

until it started to change. suddenly. quickly.

he noticed her. the eyes, the shape of her face, the way her eyebrows moved when she laughed, and the look she gave him every single time she entered a room he was already in, and luke couldn't help but pay attention at her soft hair, how excited she became while looking at pretty flowers, and especially, how her fingers felt against his own scalp when they needed to do some pretending. she was an aphrodite kid after all. y/n was charming. y/n was lovely. y/n was his girlfriend, at least for a while.

and she couldn't help but notice him either. how his scar looked more bright when they. the subtle, yet attentive and gentle way he taught her how to hold a sword, how to train, how to fight. the infuriating way at how he held her chin up slightly, every single time, before sealing his lips against hers.

and for once, neither of them were pretending.

the bonfire started earlier that night, but the couple came to it late; y/n helped one of her sisters who was in a small crises, and her sweet caring boyfriend waited for her by the aphrodite cabin's door, holding her hand as soon as she got out, so they could sit together at one of the logs, full of campers, chartering, telling stories, and enjoying the peacefulness that the simple event emanate.

luke choose one of the back logs for a reason, it was darker, harder to anyone else to see them. even so, as soon as the boy started to leave little pecks at her jaw, he was able to hear some whistles and exclamations. teenagers were gonna be teenagers after all.

"alright," y/n sat upstraight, taking a deep breath before continuing. "you can't do that here."

"i'm just having fun!" the boy said with a mischievous grin. he knew way to well what he was doing. she hoped he would do it forever. the teasing, the almost getting caught made her heart sink every time. "you are my girlfriend after all."

"don't get ahead of yourself, hero." she muttered, grinning at him, before sealing lips with him again. "i still have to break your heart."

"are you sure about that?" he furrowed his eyebrows, pretending to be offended, but getting right back at his job pretty quickly. "i'll just enjoy it until the time comes then."

she laughed, taking her head back so he could have full access to her neck, delicately taking one of her hands to his scalp. and he noticed how much he loved that sound. so much in a way he wished he could bottle it up so he could taste it every time he felt miserable. that wasn't possible. but y/n promised that as long as they were together, he was allowed to make her laugh any time he wanted to, if if meant getting him happy.

that's why it hurt even more when he did what he did.

when he revealed himself to be the traitor.

"come with me."

"i'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" she cried out, feeling her heart beating faster than ever. "you're not thinking straight. you're not. you're not like this, i-" the words got caught up in her throat. y/n felt like she could pass out at any minute. "i know you luke." her voice was a mere pleading by then, hoping with all her soul he would hear. "you wouldn't do this to me."

"you mean a lot to me, daisy, but this is fucking different."

he was different, and she finally noticed. his eyes darker, his tone stern, and the way he held himself up, like he was prepared for a fight.

y/n would never fight him.

and he would never fight her, right?

and when luke turned his back against her, letting the aphrodite girl caught up with a sob, furrowing her eyebrows, feeling the tears already soaking up her eyes, y/n thought she understood.

maybe aphrodite didn't buy it. and even if she did, she knew it started out with a lie. y/n was playing house. thinking she could be smarter than her mom, she could prove it to everyone else how that curse was a lie, and that nothing would happen to the one that didn't completed it.

but it did happend.

no demigod could ever stand out a god. y/n was no exception.

and she finally understood that.

by the end of the day, y/n went back to her well known cabin, shamefully, missing her radiant aura and pretty smile, hiding a shattered heart in her pocket.

[queer-reader-07]

so you know that post that’s like “stop telling people they can’t call themselves FTM, i lived as a girl for years i WAS a girl”?

well there’s a reblog on that post about being really protective of your pre transition self and it just really hit home for me.

kind of without realizing it i have a tendency to refer to pre coming out me as a girl, i use she/her pronouns when i talk about pre coming out me, all that jazz. and it never crossed my mind that that was weird? that it was somehow not normal to talk about pre coming out me as a girl or with she/her pronouns.

because I’M not a girl. my pronouns are they/them. why wouldn’t i refer to younger me the same way?

and i think it really does come down to being so fiercely protective of my younger self. she was such a strong and resilient little girl. she endured far too much bullying that went ignored by teachers. she was so hard on herself, she buried her emotions because she didn’t want to be a problem.

but she had hopes and dreams and goals and for fuck’s sake she WAS going to achieve it all.

and she was a girl. her girlhood was so intrinsic to who she was.

and i don’t see why i should discredit that? why i should have to they/them my past self so that it makes sense to other people.

that little girl is not who i am now. i’ve got healthier relationships with the people in my life, i have so many more amazing and beautiful friendships in my life, i no longer bury my feelings.

but if one thing hasn’t changed it’s that i’m still determined as all hell to achieve my dreams and goals. because i want to make that little girl that i was proud.

her biggest dream in life was to become a scientist, and now i’m here making those dreams come true. i’m here taking calculus and gen chem and signing up for ochem next year because if that’s what it takes, i’m gonna fucking do it.

yes a lot of my dreams and goals now are the same ones i had when i was younger. but knowing that i’m making that little girl, that girl who was hurting and confused why no one cared, proud makes it so much better.

i may not be a girl anymore. i may have grown into a non-binary genderfuck of a person. but the little girl that i was holds so much space in my heart. she is shrouded in love and care and tenderness because why would i hurt her? why would i hurt her more by acting like who she was was a lie?

she was a little girl. and she was amazing. and i want to honor that. i want to protect that.

i’m not really sure where this is going but my point is that it’s not only ok but BEAUTIFUL to be protective of your pre transition self. it’s so valid to talk about your pre transition self in terms of your AGAB. you don’t have to, obviously, but if you do and if that’s what feels right for you? don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong.

[redvexillum]

My momma always told me, you either leave the fandom or stay long enough to write a selfcest fanfiction of a character. She was right. All joking aside...I...I'm actually sort of proud of how this one turned out? If ya'll can give this crack request story a chance, I would appreciate it.

TAGS/WARNINGS: selfc♡st, fr♡ttage, mild dub-c♡n, an♡l s♡x, ♡ral s♡x, character study, mild hurt/comfort, m♡sturbation(?)

WORD COUNT: 5K~

Lucifer stared at his reflection – or, well, the figure that was almost his reflection. It was unnerving, seeing himself like that, a perfect replica, standing there as casually as if he belonged. He had been tinkering with one of his many bizarre contraptions – this one, an overly complicated machine designed to spit out custom-dressed rubber ducks because, why not?  

But after one too many turns of doodads and doohickeys, what had emerged wasn’t a novelty toy, but him. A carbon copy. And now, that copy was glaring back at him, looking far less impressed.  

“So...do I kill you, or do you kill me?” the clone drawled, eyes narrowing in irritation. His voice dripped with impatience, as if this situation was nothing more than a tedious inconvenience.  

Lucifer raised his hands, laughing nervously. “Woah, woah! Hold up!” He tugged at the lapels of his jacket, his chin jutting forward proudly. “First off, I am the original,” he declared, head held high. “So, if anyone’s doing the killing here–” 

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain knifed through his gut. He doubled over, gasping, his hands instinctively clutching his abdomen. “Oh, fuck me!” he rasped, struggling to catch his breath. “Why do I feel like I’m about to both combust and take the world’s biggest shit at the same time?!”  

The clone snorted, unimpressed. Rolling his eyes, he lazily rested a hand on the apple-topped staff at his side. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said with a tone of smugness, leaning against the staff like he was lounging on a park bench. “Only one of us can exist on this plane at a time,” 

Lucifer grimaced, his vision blurred by pain, as he glared up at his double. “Oh, that’s fucking helpful!” he barked, breathless. “How the hell was I supposed to know that?!” 

“Well,” the clone continued, ignoring Lucifer’s frustration, “I think we both know what has to happen.” There was a calmness in his voice, a decision made. Slowly, methodically, he began to shrug off his outer coat. “We need to–” 

“Kill,” Lucifer groaned.  

“Fuck,” the clone corrected.  

Lucifer wheezed, his entire body feeling like it was deflating. His mouth twisted into a forced smile, desperate for clarity. “Okay, okay, wait.” He chuckled weakly, rubbing his forehead. “When you say fuck...do you mean like, fuck as in kill, or...?” His voice trailed off as he glanced nervously at his copy.  

The grin that spread across the clone’s face was infuriatingly familiar – the same cocky smirk Lucifer hadn’t seen on his own face in years. It was unsettling how confidently his reflection seemed to own the moment. “No, no,” the clone said, voice dropping to a silky tone. “We are going to have the best sex of our life.” 

Without hesitation, the clone threw his top aside, his bare chest gleaming under the dim lighting as it hit the floor with a soft thud. Lucifer stared, wide-eyed, torn between disbelief and the undeniable, absurd pull of the moment.  

“Y-you don’t find this weird?” Lucifer stammered, stepping back slightly, his spine still curled inward, his stomach churning with a discomfort he hadn’t felt in eons. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. Sexual gratification had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since...ever since Lilith had left. 

Left him.  

Left Charlie.  

The void she left behind still gnawed at him, hollow and aching.  

His clone, though identical in appearance, stood with an unsettling confidence – shoulders back, head high, eyes blazing with the kind of self-assurance Lucifer hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He looked...powerful. Like the Lucifer of old, the one who once stood in Heaven, who knew without a doubt that the world was his, who believed in his bones that anything he desired was within his grasp. Seeing this version of himself now was both infuriating and intoxicating.  

“Listen,” the clone purred, his red pupils glittering with amusement. “This is basically masturbation.” His voice was silk, laced with cruel teasing. “Which I’m sure we’re very familiar with, considering that’s all you’ve been doing ever since our sweet, lovely wife left us.” 

Heat exploded across Lucifer’s cheeks; a hot, embarrassed flush that made him grit his teeth. “Hey!” he snapped, but his protest died in his throat. He couldn’t deny it. Hell, this was a conversation about himself, after all – his clone knew everything about him, every dark, shameful secret.  

The clone straightened up, his smirk deepening. “Right now, our soul is split in two. It’s warring with itself because this–” he gestured grandly down his body. “–is unnatural. Souls aren’t meant to be divided like this.” 

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his clone’s words pressing down on him. His fingers fidgeted with the smooth surface of his staff, his mind trying to latch onto anything other than the situation before him. “So...you thought the solution was to fuck until our souls...merged?” His voice cracked, half-disbelieving, half-hopeful.  

“Bingo!” The clone chuckled, his grin only growing as he began to undo the button of his pants with casual confidence. “Besides,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “if it doesn’t work, at least we’ll both get to reach the heavens.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively, and his forked tongue flicked out from his lips in a teasing gesture.  

Lucifer grimaced, his stomach tightening with nerves. His eyes darted involuntarily over his clone’s body, and suddenly, he became painfully aware of his own form. It had been centuries since he had looked at himself bare – really looked. The sight of his clone now, so perfectly him and yet not, was jarring in a way that twisted his insides.  

“Ugh, that’s...that’s...,” Lucifer muttered, his gaze shifting awkwardly. His self-consciousness gnawed at him, a raw vulnerability that was difficult to swallow.  

“Hey, don’t act so shy now,” the clone cooed, his voice dripping with a smugness that Lucifer hated to recognize in himself. “That’s the same line we used on Lilith when we first made love to her.” With a single fluid motion, the clone let his pants drop, his cock hanging uncut and unaroused, swaying with a casual confidence that only heightened Lucifer’s unease.  

“Woah, woah, hey, now!” Lucifer blurted, stepping back, his eyes flicking between his clone’s cock and the infuriatingly cocky grin on his face. “Again, how exactly is fucking supposed to merge our souls back together?” 

His clone shrugged, taking a step forward, completely unbothered. “I dunno,” he said with an exaggerated nonchalance. “Maybe when we both reach ecstasy, our souls will resonate, vibrate, and then, bam, they’ll fuse back together. After all,” he added with a theatrical sweep of his arms, “God did give us these bodies for a reason. Pleasure, procreation – this is the ultimate gift to humanity! To enjoy and, of course, multiply!” 

The clone’s voice was all show, his arms raised dramatically like some kind of divine preacher. But there was a glimmer in his eyes – something dark, something knowing – that made Lucifer’s skin prickle with an undeniable mix of dread and curiosity.  

Lucifer frowned, his brows knitting together, confused. Something about the situation – about the words his clone had said – felt off. Deep down, a nagging sense of dread tugged at him, though he couldn’t quite place why. Before he could puzzle it out, he jolted at the sudden warmth of his cheek.  

His eyes darted up, meeting his own reflection. But it wasn’t just the unnerving intimacy of having his clone caress his face – it was the startling realization that the twisting pain in his gut had vanished, as if it had never been there at all.  

“Looks like I might be onto something,” his clone murmured, fingers already deftly working at Lucifer’s bow tie, loosening it with ease. Then came the buttons, each one undone with deliberate slowness.  

“W-wait,” Lucifer stammered, a surge of awkwardness and outright discomfort pounding in his chest. This wasn’t right – none of this was right. But when his clone’s fingers brushed against the bare skin of his chest, Lucifer felt a jolt – his nerves sparking with an odd, pleasant warmth that made his breath hitch.  

“Oh, fuck. What the fuck is happening?” Lucifer gasped, his body betraying him. There was a strange sense of completeness now, as though the fractures within him, the things that had felt so wrong and broken, were beginning to knit back together.  

“Told you so,” the clone said, smirking with that insufferably cocky tilt of his brow. His lips curved upward in a grin that made Lucifer’s stomach turned with unease. “Now, let’s get this show started.” 

Lucifer stood there, frozen, watching as his replica continued to undress, each piece of clothing discarded methodically. The pants came off easily, unbuttoned and unzipped in a single fluid motion before being kicked aside.  

Now, they stood face to face, naked and exposed, and for a moment, it was like staring into a mirror. Every inch of his clone’s body was a perfect reflection of his own – yet, it was the confidence, the smugness in the clone’s posture that set them worlds apart.  

“L-listen,” Lucifer mumbled, his shoulders tensing as they rose toward his ears. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump of unease forming in his throat. “C-could you, I don’t know, shape-shift into someone else? Maybe it’d be easier to...ya know,” he trailed off, awkwardly circling his hand as his eyes flicked down to his own limp cock and them back to his clone’s. “And, uh, can I top? Not that I can’t take it, but I just...I prefer–” 

His clone let out a heavy sigh, cocking his head to the side as if he were disappointed by Lucifer’s hesitation.  “You seriously don’t feel it?” he asked, his voice dripping with impatience.  

Lucifer blinked, confusion settling deeper into his mind. Slowly, he reached inward, trying to gather his magic, to summon that familiar surge of power – but nothing happened. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening in panic. “Holy fu–” 

“Yep,” the clone interrupted, popping the “p” with a smug satisfaction. “You can’t access your magic. That’s because our soul is still split, dumbass.” 

Lucifer’s heart raced, the weight of the situation settling heavily onto his shoulders. For the first time, he felt the gravity of what was happening. He wasn’t just losing control – he had lost it. The realization made his stomach churn, but there was no turning back now.  

“Now that we’re on the same page about how serious this is,” the clone grinned, his teeth gleaming a pearly white that somehow made him appear even more unsettling. His expression was everything Lucifer wasn’t - confident, boisterous, and utterly sure of himself. It was a mockery of everything Lucifer had once been, and it made his skin crawl with unease. “Let’s fuck.” 

Lucifer swallowed hard, staring into his clone’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of inevitability creeping up on him. He wasn’t sure if he could go through with this – or if he even had a choice anymore.  

Lucifer lay on the bed, his body tense and awkward, his tail coiled tightly around his left leg like a lifeline, a small attempt at self-soothing. He felt exposed – no, worse than that. He felt like a blushing virgin, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in millennia. 

His hands instinctively covered his chest, as though that would somehow shield him from the surreal reality he was trapped in. His cock hung half-flaccid, a humiliating reminder of his physical reaction to something he desperately wished he didn’t want.  

His clone’s hand drifted up and down Lucifer’s abdomen, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin just below his navel, occasionally grazing the tip of his cock. Each fleeting touch sent shivers up Lucifer’s spine, and despite the disgust and shame swirling inside him, he couldn’t stop his body from responding. His cock hardened, growing with each touch, betraying the war raging in his mind.  

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. Shame burned through him like acid. How had it come to this? He was fucking his own clone. What kind of pathetic, twisted man had he become? 

What would Lilith say? The thought pierced through him like a dagger, and his heart clenched in pain. He could picture her now, her back turned to him, disgust etched into her face. She had always known his weakness, his flaws, but this – this was something else entirely. What would she think of him now?

What would Charlie think? His little girl – so full of light, so distant now. They barely spoke anymore. When they did, it was stilted, cold, and brief. She had left home centuries ago, and every passing year felt like another knife twisting in his gut. If she knew what he was doing right now, she wouldn’t just turn her back on him – she would hate him. 

A wave of loneliness crashed over him, and Lucifer’s heart sank. If only Lilith were here, none of this would be happening. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he’d still have his family.  

“Hey!” His clone’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Lucifer’s eyes flew open, his chest tightening in shock. His clone was holding his limp cock in his hand, its size reduced to something small, shrunken, and powerless. “Seriously?” the clone huffed in annoyance, dropping Lucifer’s cock as if it were nothing. “It’s like you don’t want to fix this.” 

Lucifer blinked, startled by the casual frustration in his own voice. The clone collapsed beside him on the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a lazy thud, folding his hands behind his head. “Well, I guess both of us are just going to cease to exist then. Painfully, I might add.” He paused, glancing at Lucifer with a knowing smirk. “And we’ll be leaving our girl behind.” 

Lucifer’s heart stopped for a moment. Then anger surged through him like a wildfire, scorching the shame and hesitation out of his chest. “Take that back,” he growled, sitting up, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m going to be with my little girl for the rest of eternity.” He wanted to say that Charlie needed him, but deep down, he knew the truth – he needed her.  

The clone fell silent, his cocky grin faltering for the first time. For a brief moment, something softened in his expression, the sharp edges of his usual bravado dulling. “I know,” he said quietly. And of course, he knew. He washim, after all. He understood that deep, aching loneliness better than anyone.  

Lucifer’s breath caught; the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. He watched, still tense, as his clone snapped his fingers and slipped off the bed. Lucifer furrowed his brows, his eyes narrowing as he watched the bare backside of his clone exit the room. A strange sense of foreboding curled in his gut, but he couldn’t have guessed what was coming next.  

When his clone reappeared, Lucifer’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Oh, hell no!” he yelled, sitting up straight in the bed, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  

His clone stood before him, draped in one of Lilith’s old purple dresses, the very sight of it sending a wave of nausea rolling through Lucifer. The dress – once regal and commanding on Lilith – was ill-fitting on his clone. It hung awkwardly off his frame, too long and dragging on the floor, with the chest sagging low enough to reveal his nipples. It was a mockery, and Lucifer couldn’t tear his eyes away.  

“What?” his clone asked, dragging the hem of the dress along the ground as he clambered back onto the bed. Lucifer immediately crossed his arms over his chest, looking away, his face twisted in revulsion.  

“Don’t be such a hypocrite,” the clone scoffed, rolling his eyes. “After Lilith left, you literally fucked your hand while smothering your face in her clothes.” 

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his mind reeling. He could feel the humiliation crashing over him like a tidal wave. His clone knew everything. Every shameful, pathetic moment. And now, dressed in Lilith’s gown, his clone was dragging him through the mud, forcing him to confront his deepest shame.  

It was too much, Lucifer clenched his jaw, trying to push back the flood of emotions rising inside him. But he couldn’t - because every word, every mocking gesture, was true.  

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged, the weight of those words pressing down on him like a heavy fog. His eyes stung with the threat of tears, but he quickly blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. It had been hard enough, those dark nights after Lilith had left without so much as a goodbye.  

The days blurred into week, then months, until centuries have long gone by. Charlie had asked where her mother was, and Lucifer had found himself spinning hollow lies after lies. “She’s off doing important things,” he would say, his voice faltering. He never could come up with something more substantial – just the vague notion of “important” being all he had to offer.  

And poor Charlie believed him, trusted her father’s words when Lucifer slowly sank into a dark spiral. The pain gnawed at him, and day by day, he closed off his heart to everything that once mattered. He had locked himself away, isolated, while his daughter’s belief in him, in them, lingered like an unbearable weight.  

Lucifer shook his head, physically trying to shove those thoughts back down into the depths of his mind where they belonged. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He had to face what was in front of him – himself.“Alright, let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, his voice strained.  

His clone cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “Geez, don’t sound too eager,” he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “And here I went, dressing up nice and pretty for you.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, the familiar sting of frustration bubbling up. “You’re such an ass.” He paused, realizing the irony – that all his insults were essentially directed at himself. His clone’s smirk only widened in response to Lucifer’s damning realization. 

“Relax,” his clone sighed, the weight of the moment shifting as he leaned forward, the bed creaking beneath him. He straddled Lucifer’s hips, the long dress pooling awkwardly around them, one sleeve slipping off his shoulder in a parody of seduction. “Let’s just do what we always do.” 

Lucifer swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he felt the warmth of his clone’s body settle on top of him. It was strange – unnerving – but grounding in a way. The warmth, the weight, it made it all feel too real.  

His clone pressed his hard cock against Lucifer’s, and the contact sent a ripple of heat down his spine. A hand planted itself beside Lucifer’s head as his clone leaned down, his breath brushing his ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, and Lucifer listened, squeezing them shut.  

A slow exhalation escaped him as he let his hands rest at his sides, the tension is his body slowly easing. He felt the blood pooling between his legs, rushing to his cock, filling him with a familiar heat he hadn’t felt in so long. His clone’s voice came again, softer this time. “Just focus on feeling good.” 

Lucifer shivered as his clone’s hand wrapped around both their cocks, the sensation of their skin sliding together igniting something deep within him. He let out a shaky moan, his body betraying the shame that still clawed at the edges of his mind. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel like this – to indulge in something that wasn’t soaked in guilt or regret.  

This is just masturbation, he told himself, nothing more than that.  

In the darkness behind his closed eyes, Lucifer focused on the feel of their bodies pressed together. The heat of his clone’s cock, the hard, throbbing shaft rubbing against his own. His clone moved slowly, gliding up and down, the sensitive ridges of their heads catching against each other in a way that made Lucifer’s breath hitch. Every touch, every movement was fire burning on his skin.  

“Oh...” Lucifer moaned, his head falling back into the pillow. “This feels really good,” he whispered, the words slipping out unbidden, soft and full of need.  

His clone stayed silent, his hips rocking steadily, methodically. But then, unexpectedly, he stopped. Lucifer’s eyes fluttered open just as he felt a sharp tug on his tail. Pain and pleasure crashed together, sending a shock through his body. “Oh, fuck!” he gasped, his hips jerking forward as a bead of pre-cum dripped from the tip of his cock.  

His clone shifted lower, settling between Lucifer’s legs. His cock jutted out, red-tipped and aching, and Lucifer’s breath hitched again as his clone lowered his head. The forked tongue slipped from his clone’s lips, teasing the slit of Lucifer’s cock, dipping just slightly into the sensitive opening before swirling around the shaft. The sensation was maddening, the wet heat of his tongue sending Lucifer spiralling further into pleasure.  

Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fingers clenching at the sheets beneath him as the world around him faded away, leaving nothing but the intense, unbearable feeling of his clone’s mouth on him.  

With a soft moan, Lucifer’s clone took him deeper, enveloping the length of his cock in the wet, tight heat of his mouth. The slurping, obscene noises filled the room, echoing the rhythmic sounds of pleasure.  

Lucifer’s hips trembled, the desperate urge to thrust upward nearly overwhelming him as the sensation of his dick being sucked, and his balls gently fondled took him over. It had been so long – too long since he felt anything like this.  

“Oh, fuuuck,” Lucifer groaned, his voice thick with lust, barely able to string the words together. “Oh, fuck, so good...ah, fuck...I could...I could do this forever,” he whimpered, his control slipping away entirely.  

A sharp tug on his tail sent a fresh wave of heat surging through him, driving him closer to the edge. His entire body tensed, hips twitching upward, seeking more.  

But then, just as he felt himself teetering near the brink of release, the warm, wet sensation disappeared. Lucifer whimpered as his cock slipped free from his clone’s mouth, slick and throbbing, twitching in the air as he watched through pleasure-hazed eyes.  

His clone spit on him, thick strings of saliva drenching his cock, glistening and dripping as Lucifer’s breath hitched in his throat. The sight of it, the feel of it, was maddening.  

His clone moved with purpose, stripping off Lilith’s old dress in one fluid motion and pressing it against Lucifer’s face. The fabric was worn, the scent long faded, but the texture was enough to flood him with memories of Lilith – moments when they were still a family, still whole.  

His breath hitched again as the tight, hot sensation of his clone’s body enveloped his dick. Both of them moaned in unison, the feeling almost unbearable in its intensity.  

The dress slipped down from Lucifer’s face, and through one half-lidded eye, he watched himself – his clone – riding him, bouncing on his cock with a smooth, fluid motion. Pre-cum dripped from his clone’s own throbbing erection, every downward thrust sending pleasure coursing through Lucifer’s veins. The mix of his own spit and the warm, tight heat made each movement feel decadent, sinful, and utterly overwhelming.  

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna come,” Lucifer gasped, his hands gripping the blanket as he buried his face into the fabric of Lilith’s dress, the scent and feel of it sending his mind spiralling into the past.  

He pretended, if only for a moment, that it was her – her body he was inside, her warmth he was losing himself to. “Lilith, fuck...Lilith,” he moaned, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, trying to conjure her face, her presence, the way she had once made him feel whole.  

His clone wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing. The movements grew more intense, and with another sharp tug on Lucifer’s tail, his body jerked, arching uncontrollably as the sensation ripped through him. The shaft of his tail slipped between his balls, sending sharp electric shocks of pleasure up his spine. “I’m gonna come... oh, honey, I–” His voice broke as he cried out, “I love you; I love you, Lily!” The nickname tumbled from his lips, raw and vulnerable, a name he hadn't dared utter in centuries.  

With a final thrust, Lucifer’s body tensed, his cock throbbing violently as he released inside his clone. Hot, milky seed spilled out, his hips jerking helplessly as the tight walls around him squeezed, milking every drop of his orgasm. The intensity of it left him breathless, his body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over him in relentless bursts.  

When the haze of his climax began to fade, Lucifer opened his eyes, panting heavily. His eyes fell on his clone, now slumped over him, their breaths mingling in the space between them.  

For the first time, in the daze of post-orgasmic bliss, the pain that had clawed at his soul for so long felt muted, distant. His chest still ached, but it was dulled, the sharp edges softened.  

It was only then that Lucifer noticed the sticky warmth coating his torso. His clone had finished too, his seed splattered across Lucifer’s chest and the dress, ruining it with their release. Slowly, his clone leaned forward, their faces close, mirroring each other in a strange, intimate silence.  

In a way, his clone had been right. For just this moment, the jagged, hollow incompleteness inside Lucifer was quieted.  

As the clone began to fade, his form becoming more transparent with every passing second, he spoke with softness that felt like a balm for Lucifer’s aching soul. “It’s okay to miss her,” the clone murmured, his forehead resting gently against Lucifer’s. The words felt like a distant echo, resonating in the deepest part of him. “It’s okay to be sad, to be confused, to be hurt.” 

Lucifer could only stare, his reflection looking back at him – his own voice giving life to the words he long buried, the truths he had tried to ignore. The sound of it, the sincerity, was almost unbearable.  

“It’s okay to have days when you hate yourself and days when you love yourself,” the clone continued, his body growing lighter and lighter, as if slipping away with each breath. His eyes closed, and Lucifer noticed just how fragile his clone had become. “But don’t lose sight of what you have now. You haven’t lost everything, and nothing is ever too late.” 

Lucifer’s lips quivered, his chest tightening with a raw emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in eons. His hands trembled by his sides, frozen in place, as his eyes began to sting, his throat tightening painfully. His voice cracked, barely a whisper. “How do you know I haven’t lost everything?” The floodgates opened, and the vulnerability poured out like a torrent. “My wife left me. Charlie won’t even look at me. I created this awful place because of my foolish dream...so...” he took in a shuddering breath, “h-how could you say that?” 

For the first time in centuries, Lucifer felt his heart split wide open, the weight of the pain he had been carrying for so long threatening to crush him. The depressive cloud that had suffocated him for so long was lifting, revealing the gaping wound beneath. “You don’t know a single thing,” he whispered, his voice trembling, on the edge of breaking entirely.  

The clone’s eyes fluttered open, but now Lucifer could see right through him – his body almost entirely transparent, as if he was a shadow of a memory. “I know that Charlie is still here,” the clone said softly. “I know that I love my daughter very much, that I would do anything for her.” His voice was steady, filled with conviction, as he reached up and placed a fading hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “And hey, she’s my little girl, my whole world. So, I would say I still have everything within my reach.” 

That smile – the one Lucifer hadn’t seen on his own face in what felt like a lifetime – flashed across the clone’s face, bright and filled with hope. “I just need to reach for her, and I know she’ll accept me. I know because I’m you, dummy.” His voice was so gentle, and yet it pierced through every barrier Lucifer had built around his heart.  

With those final words, the clone dissipated into nothing, vanishing like smoke, leaving Lucifer alone in the room. But as his mirror image faded, Lucifer felt something begin to mend inside of him – a slow, painful process as his soul tried to stitch itself back together.  

Yet, even as he felt a sense of repair, his chest ached with an unbearable weight, a heaviness that pressed down on him like a physical force.  

A tear slipped down his cheek, and with it came a broken, self-deprecating laugh that echoed through the empty space. He was still draped in Lilith’s old dress, his body bare beneath the fabric, his torso sticky with his own release. The absurdity of it all hit him at once, and he laughed – laughed until the sound turned into a sob.  

He had turned his back on his greatest fear for so long, choosing the safety of solitude over the vulnerability of facing what truly terrified him; his own heartbreak. For centuries, it had been easier to shut himself away, to protect his fragile ego, to numb himself to the pain. But now, in the quiet aftermath of everything, he realized that his heart had been breaking all along.  

Every day he spent alone, every day he pretended that he didn’t care, it shattered just a little more.  

The tears came in waves, and he let them. He cried for all that he had lost, for the family he had once had, for the years of silence that had driven him deeper into his own despair. But he also cried because, for the first time, he understood that he hadn’t lost everything. Not yet.  

There was still time.  

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[tkaulitzlvr]

BEAUTIFUL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom flirts with an interviewer at an event the two of you are attending, he has to make it up to you once he realises how hurt you are.

content: angst & smut

a/n: something small to compensate for my lack of posts lately, just in case i don’t manage to put something out in the next few days - exams finish after this week so i should be back to uploading a little more regularly!! (not proofread yet - apologies if there are any errors i’ll fix them asap)💗

the drive home is utterly silent. i refuse to turn my gaze toward him, despite the annoyingly noticeable glances he throws in my direction as he takes his eyes off of the road every few minutes, attempting to work out how i feel. doing so had never been easy, though now, it seems completely impossible, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. the only hint that i lend to him is concrete proof of my anger, this part of the endless puzzle of my emotions easy to piece together. tom is aware that he has fucked up, the silence buying him time to carefully consider his choice of words to avoid worsening this situation.

the streetlights lining the smooth path of the highway ahead cast their dull orange light into the silent car, melting onto my stern features, starting at my eyes, dark and heavy, dangerously close to letting the tears welled up within them go, trailing down to my lips, curved downward into a painfully noticeable frown. the radio is just as silent, no longer blaring out tom's obnoxiously loud music, instead replacing its heavy bass with the sound of our breathing, tom clearing his throat when the silence would become slightly too awkward.

it started with the two of us attending another event for the band, this becoming a usual occurrence since i had started dating tom, though i didn't mind it. i had always been supportive of the band - it was impossible to not be, supporting the man i love in the career he is passionate about is something i consider to be my biggest achievement, and i would proudly stand by his side no matter what he decided to pursue, as long as his happiness is guaranteed. he knows just how proud of him i am, this one of many reasons why i make sure i can support him in any way possible, and something that comes along with that is being his plus one for any event.

whether it is a good thing or not, our relationship has never been private. since it's beginning, we made it clear to the public that we are together, parts of our lives perhaps too out there, figuring that allowing unnecessary speculation would only worsen the cruel comments coming our way - though tom never really receives anything close to the backlash that i do.

however boundaries are still something that some couldn't grasp. the publicity of our relationship was and still is visible to anybody with a working pair of eyes. it would be unusual to see me without tom at any event, or to be pictured elsewhere whilst he would be playing a show - the two of us are attached at the hip, utterly infatuated, as the gossip magazines obsessed with our lives would say. and this is why i found myself so enraged that one of his female interviewers acted as if i was invisible, though i maintained my stance beside tom as he answered any questions she directed at him. touching his arm playfully whenever he made a funny comment - though her reaction would always be totally exaggerated, tom's responses never warranting anything more than a slight chuckle, tossing her silky brunette hair and adjusting her already very prominent cleavage at any chance she had, she made it evident that she wanted tom.

and he didn't try to stop her. his eyes scanning her body, twinkling with a foreign sense of lust, speaking thousands of ideas on what he would like to be doing in that moment, forgetting that his girlfriend was beside him. to anyone else, it would look like i was a friend, perhaps even an acquaintance standing beside tom, clearly nothing romantic seeming to be going on between the two of us, his promiscuous glances practically screaming the phrase 'i'm available', regardless of the fact that he is everything but.

it is his acts that lead us to the present, us leaving the event rather abruptly as the tears spilling down my face ruined the makeup i had spent hours applying - for him. embarrassment habituated within the pit of my stomach more than anything, the effort i had put in to look my best meaning seemingly nothing to him.

the berlin cityscape encircles my vision as i watch it quickly pass, skyscrapers and flashing lights heavily contrasting to the emptiness in the sky above, reminding me of why i love this city. the view from the tinted windows of tom's ridiculously priced sports car temporarily distract me from the sorrow i feel, providing me with some sense of security as i find myself longing for more and more of it, my mind and its thoughts spiralling far out of control.

the silence was almost painful, indisputable tension between us so palpable it is almost visible, air thick with thoughts best left unsaid yet i am still unprepared to speak to him, not after he had disregarded me for somebody who couldn't keep her hands away from what had clearly belonged to someone else. his hand hesitantly reaches down from the wheel to caress my thigh, this being a usual habit whenever i am in the passenger seat, yet this time he visibly contemplates doing so, wondering how i will react to his small act of affection.

"don't." i mutter through gritted teeth, my voice shaky and uncertain as i move my leg harshly away from his gentle touch, adjusting the material of my dress so it flows below my knees. an exasperated sigh escapes tom's mouth as he moves his hand to touch the wheel once again, not a single word uttering from either one of us for the entirety of the journey home.

i swiftly exit the car, slamming the door shut and quickly rushing inside of the house that tom and i share, deciding against waiting for him like i usually would. instead, i tug my uncomfortably tall heels off, carrying them under my arm as i trudge up the stairs to our shared bedroom, before he has any chance of catching up to me. i don't need his worthless apologies, especially in this moment when i know one small glance into those eyes will lead to an emotional outburst, or my surrender, his soft features enough to make me forget it all, something which this time, i don't want to do.

my body slumps into the chair facing my vanity as i begin to remove my makeup. the wipe traces across the intricate detailing along my eyelids, smudging the deep orange powder across it, ruining the colour as it smudges with the thick black eyeliner above it messily, completely ruining the blend that i had spent at least an hour perfecting. i take a fresh wipe, running it along my lips, watching the dark pink colour gracing them disappear from my face, leaving the natural colour of them in place of it. my foundation had already been ruined since i had rushed out of the event, long streaks where tears had once fell destroying the flawlessly applied base, the movements of my hands becoming much more ragged, channelling my frustration as i rush to remove each inch of makeup from my face, feeling pathetic for bothering to put any of it on in the first place - it clearly wasn't enough. eyes red and raw, glossy with the thin layer of liquid that covers their exterior, cheeks a light shade of pink from the force i had applied when removing my makeup, my reflection stares back of me, a gut-wrenching reminder that i'm not good enough for him, what i see in the mirror quickly making me realise why. i am a mess - my entire appearance disheveled, an unbelievable contrast to the woman tom had his eyes glued to, everything about her utterly flawless, seemingly crafted by god himself

seconds pass, each one painful and silent, allowing me to continue over-analysing every single aspect of my physical appearance, until a familiar pair of footsteps near my bedroom, a lump in my throat forming as i refuse to turn my head once their presence finally becomes much harder to ignore. even when he walks over, eyes filled with regret, my face remains still, gaze staying put as it burns into my own reflection.

"baby come on, don't be like this." he begins, his hand brushing against my shoulder tenderly as he stands behind me, peppering a single kiss onto where his calloused hand had previously been, this simple act of affection almost making me fold. his reflection gazes into mine through the large mirror in front of us, the tension thickening by the second as my heart closely considers betraying my mind, however remembering the way he acted tonight brings me back into my furious state.

"fuck you tom." i bitterly reply, standing up and swiftly moving into the en-suite, noticing the way he follows closely behind me, clearly not willing to give this up anytime soon. i ignore him regardless of how determined he is, walking toward the mirror and slowly beginning to brush my hair, eyeing his reflection as he moves closer towards me, our gazes interlocking, yet i force myself to look away before I foolishly forgive him.

"i'm sorry, please don't fight with me schatz." he pleads, moving toward me and gently wrapping his arms around my waist from behind,  beginning to plant slow and soft kisses along my neck, his thumbs massaging my stomach lightly. his eyes never leave my own through the mirror, staring intently with a look unable to be mistaken for anything else other than admiration, totally different to how he had ignored me earlier on. though it still isn't enough to put out the worried thoughts that occupy my mind, the belief that i am no longer good enough seeming more real than ever.

"wouldn't you rather be doing this to the girl who interviewed you earlier?" i ask blankly, removing myself from his grasp and walking toward the wardrobe, facing away from him and attempting to remove my dress, yet my small hands fail to reach the zipper that starts from my shoulder blades and travels down to my lower back. i am not in any position to ask tom for help as I usually would, instead mentally cursing myself for wearing this dress. he quickly returns from the bathroom, face softening once he registers my helpless state, his frame nearing my own, stopping once his chest is almost pressed firmly against my back.

"leibe you're being ridiculous." he sighs, moving my hair to the side so that it rests against my shoulder, positioning his hand gently on my lower back, the other reaching towards the zipper that i had struggled to pull down.

"get off me-" i begin, just about ready to pull away from his touch and spew out reminders of how much of an awful boyfriend he is, though i am cut quickly off by his steady breathing close to my ear.

"shhh. let me do this for you, then you can go back to being mad at me, okay?" he whispers gently, breath fanning against my skin as goosebumps begin to form along it, his mouth slightly open whilst he begins to unzip my dress at an agonisingly slow pace, exposing my bare shoulders as he removes the fabric from my upper body, his other hand caressing my waist, so gently as if he could break me. he is careful, tentative even, though his movements become undeniably more calculated, going even further once his face leans forward, in line with my shoulder, sinking lower and lower, until his lips hover over the now bare skin. my eyes are on the verge of closing shut, not stopping him just yet, even when both his hands place themselves firmly onto my hips, pulling my body backward so that it is pressed against his own. it is when his lips ghost over my skin, brushing against it so gently i wonder if i am imagining the contact, that i finally snap out of it.

"you said you would undo the zipper, not undress me." i say, the small moment of lust soon lost within the harshness of my words as i utter them, my back still facing him.

he says nothing, clearing his throat and slowly removing his hands from my waist. despite increasing our proximity more than it had been seconds ago, he still remains closely behind me as i grab an oversized t-shirt and fresh panties from my closet.

"can you leave? i want to get changed." i sigh, rolling my eyes and covering my cleavage as i turn to face him. after seeing the way he looked at her body, i tense in discomfort at the thought of him looking at my own. all the times he called me beautiful quickly seem insignificant as i am suddenly ashamed and insecure, almost embarrassed to be so exposed around him.

"what? you always get changed around me. we've been together for four years schatz, it's nothing i haven't seen before." he states, clearly surprised as i usually have no issue being naked around him, used to being showered with kisses and compliments whenever i am exposed around him, yet now i cannot imagine anything worse.

"my body clearly isn't good enough for you tom, i'm sure her's is perfect. i'm sure you'd agree right? the way you looked at her pretty much fucking said it all anyways." i respond, blinking the tears away as they are dangerously close to falling, my gaze dropping from his as i curse myself for acting so vulnerable around him, for letting him get to me this much.

"you and i both know that's not true." he sighs, reaching to wipe the tear falling down my cheek, his pointer finger gently tilting my chin upwards so that i am met with his gaze. "you know what i think of you. you know how perfect you are to me."

i don't respond, scoffing at his empty spews of supposed reassurance. instead, i ignore his presence as i should have done the first time he walked into the room, grabbing my pyjamas and entering the bathroom, quickly removing my dress and slipping on the t-shirt i had grabbed from the closet. i am immediately engulfed in tom's scent, an addictive mix of vanilla and his favourite cologne, this alone almost convincing me to run into his arms and forgive him. this time i know better, returning to the bedroom to find tom gone.

i take no notice, silently thankful for him leaving me alone. i switch the light off, slipping silently under the covers, allowing them to engulf me in warmth. a few minutes later, the bed dips beside me, tom sighing as i turn over to face away from him, instead of moving into his arms as i usually would.

he soon nears closer to me, refusing my attempts at keeping us apart, brushing my hair out of my face and nuzzling his head into my neck from behind, placing a single tender kiss before speaking up.

"please talk to me schatz, i'm so sorry." he mutters into the darkness, awaiting my response, yet i refuse to give him one, not moving from my tensed position.

"you said that your body isn't good enough for me." he slowly begins, turning me on my back in one swift motion as he props himself up beside me, one hand holding himself up as the other gently caresses my cheek. the darkness prevents me from making out his features, though i can still distinguish his dark brown eyes staring into mine. "let me show you. let me show you how beautiful you are."

my speechlessness forces me to do nothing but slowly nod my head, my quick acceptance clearly surprising him as he slowly leans downwards until his lips meet mine. the kiss isn't rough or lustful, it is slow and passionate, carrying every unspoken apology as his lips mould perfectly with mine. as much as i still hold back, still reluctant to let him in so easily, i can't hide it. we fit together flawlessly, our physical contact providing me with the certainty of our love. we are attached, not just physically, but spiritually, emotionally, in any way that two people can be bound together.

without breaking the kiss, he slowly crawls on top of me, caressing my face gently, our desire and hunger for each other increasing by the second, the fire only sparking further within me as i fall further into his touch.

"so perfect..." he mutters against my lips, pulling away only to begin gently kissing my neck, sighs of pleasure elicited from my parted lips as he finds my sweet spot, his tongue circling the area whilst my hands travel down his back, finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift it over his head, his lips capturing mine softly once again. his hands caress my waist, finding my underwear as he loops his fingers around it, pulling it down slowly and throwing it on the floor beside him, doing the same with my t-shirt. my hands fumble with his underwear, pulling it down soon after, leaving our bare bodies pressed against each other, our craving for one another growing with every kiss he leaves against my lips.

he is the sun, and i am the planets orbiting around him. my entire being is his, only being able to function with the reassurance that he is mine, and i am his. every part of me belongs to him, and as i clutch on to him i find myself wondering what I did to deserve him, what i did to find somebody that compliments me so well, no one else providing me with the euphoria that he can.

he parts his lips from mine, staring into my eyes as i find myself in awe of his perfection. his lips are open ever so slightly, the minimal light cast into the room hitting his lips, soft and tempting, directly, the metal ring adorning them knocked to the side as his tongue comes out to rest against it. however my time to admire him is soon brought to a finish as positions himself at my entrance.

"you sure baby?" he asks, eyes scanning my own, searching for any sense of doubt within them. though i am quick to nod my head, muttering a clear 'yes' as my hands grip onto his biceps, studying the way his face changes from caring to lustful the second that his top pushes inside of me. he is slow, sliding into me carefully, though when he bottoms out, he makes sure that every inch of him is inside of me, his own eyes squeezing shut when my walls clenching around him. he starts off slow, maintaining a steady rhythm as i savour every second, holding onto him so tightly as if he could fall out of my grasp. quiet groans fill my ears as he buries his face into my neck, slowly beginning to pick up the pace, inaudible whines escaping my lips, each thrust further fuelling the ecstasy within me.

"fuck…i love you." he mumbles into my neck, planting fast and sloppy kisses anywhere his lips can find, my vision blurring as i am soon overwhelmed with pleasure. he is inside me, his body pressed against me as even the air cannot come between us, yet i long for him to be closer. i know that isn't possible, and god, that hurts to think about.

“right there, oh my god!" i cry out, my legs wrapping around his torso as he delves further into me, hitting the spot where i need him most perfectly, my eyes to rolling to the back of my head, no noise escaping my mouth as i can do nothing but savour this pleasure, knowing that it cannot last forever.

“so pretty baby…shit- so perfect." he whispers, connecting his lips with mine in a sloppy kiss, quickening his pace as i know he is getting closer to his release. his calloused hands gently grab my waist, pushing me into him further as he struggles to kiss back, moaning into my mouth as his pillowy lips hover over mine.

“i'm so close schatz." he mutters against my lips, his rhythm becoming irregular as his hips stutter and i feel him twitch inside me. i sigh in relief, finally letting go of the knot built up in my stomach, mouth falling open as i reach my climax, this enough for tom to come to his own.

“fuck, oh my god…" he groans, throwing his head back as i feel him release inside of me, his breathing becoming heavier. he slowly thrusts in and out of me, muttering inaudible words of praise, riding out our highs before collapsing on top of me, leaving a few lazy kisses on my shoulder. my hands find their way into his hair, gently running through the dark braids whilst his wrap around my waist. the room stays silent for a few seconds, this soon interrupted by tom’s voice, slow and rough.

“i'm sorry for everything. i love you schatz, you know that right?" he says breathlessly, lifting his head from my chest to look into my eyes, any lustful intent within them now fading as they display nothing but pure regret.

“i know. i love you too." i reply, kissing him tiredly on the lips before closing my eyes, close to falling asleep. though i am soon interrupted by tom’s hand over my shoulder, shaking it gently, whilst the other trails to my face, thumb running across the skin comfortingly.

“c’mon, let's clean you up first liebe, then we can sleep." he whispers, smiling weakly when i nod my head lazily, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist, carrying me into the bathroom and turning on the shower, both of us climbing in.

the warm water covers my body, droplets running down it as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a tight hug. it is silent, though the quiet is everything but awkward, instead the reassurance that his embrace brings is everything i need, my eyes closing contently as he begins washing my body, occasionally kissing my forehead and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, before lifting me out of the shower and grabbing a fresh t-shirt, placing it over my head and onto my tired frame.

he collapses into bed, opening his arms out as i fall into his embrace, wrapping one arm loosely around his bare torso, tracing random patterns on his chest with my pointer finger, head resting against it so firmly i can hear the steady thumping of his heart, each faint beat somehow soothing me, until i fall into a deep sleep.

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[sun-undone]

okay so i'm rereading the poppy war for the sole purpose of trying to squeeze all the chaltan content i can get out of it and my god is it delivering already

this first one is something that i completely breezed past in my first reading cause i didn't even know who tf chaghan was yet but on a reread????? GAY (pg. 226):

you're telling me that chaghan and altan just happened to be together when chaghan felt tyr's death? in the middle of the night??? mmhmm yup for sure

now as willing as i am to fully chalk this up to a late night chaltan tryst, i will be fair and admit that i'm not super clear on how exactly chaghan got the tyr info here. it kinda seems like he's doing his monthly meeting with the hexagram goddess (in the dialogue he literally says "there has been a hexagram" and then he interprets 3 things from it), but first off, it seems too coincidental for him to just happen to be doing that at the very moment that tyr dies, and also why tf is he doing it in the middle of the night?? is he just being extra dramatic and making up some "we have to do it at midnight" bullshit to see what he can get away with (a la the infamous kitay horse piss incident) or is there an in universe explanation for that that i've completely forgotten?

OR is it a secret, gayer third option: altan and chaghan were already together when he felt tyr's death, which then prompted him to convene with the goddess and get the hexagram. and we just don't see the full process or really get much of a proper explanation cause we're in altan's pov and it's all mysterious and shit at this point in the book. that's the one i'm going with and i cannot believe that this is their first scene together. the intimacy is already so palpable and we don't even know chaghan's name at this point in the book.

and then of course there's THIS (pg. 227):

absolutely fucking bonkers i'm spinning on my head

is anyone else this gentle with altan ever????? i'm genuinely asking. who else in the cike would even THINK about pulling a move like this? also the added layer of chaghan originally being next in line for commander before altan took him out to the fucking valley for THREE WHOLE DAYS and then THIS is his reaction to altan officially inheriting said title??? we know from a later conversation that chaghan has with rin (pg. 337) that he's very aware of how unprepared altan was to assume leadership over the cike, which just makes this gesture from him even more meaningful and tender. "we are yours to command. i am yours."

this next one just made me giggle and idk if it's just my brain being broken from scouring source material for gay crumbs or if it's actually intentional but (pg. 285):

i mean. i mean. if anyone knows the extent of chaltan, it's most definitely qara, and a lot of these crumbs involve her so i'm taking it as more evidence and no one can stop me

speaking of qara being an icon (pg. 317):

i actually forgot how much she's in this book i am so sorry queen

so unegen also has a strong reaction to ramsa's dialogue, but if i may be incredibly nitpicky about it, i'd argue that qara snorting implies a sense of "yeah right now that's funny", while unegen spitting out his wine implies more pure shock than anything else. i'm sure the cike have some idea about chaghan and altan's relationship going deeper than meets the eye (if it's this obvious from the crumbs we get over the span of a handful of scenes i can only imagine how sick and tired they must be after an entire year of it), but once again, qara is likely the only one who really KNOWS. for obvious reasons.

then we have the iconic dramatic entrance where chaghan is officially introduced, and even before zooming into a specific piece of it to prove my chaltan agenda, just the very existence of this scene is so fucking insane to me. rebecca could've chosen any way to properly introduce us to chaghan, and this is what she decided on. you could argue that it sets up chaghan's dramatic and obnoxiously proud personality, and that him being hurt is so we can see how it affects qara (and also just to up the tension and stakes) BUT how coincidental that on top of achieving all that character and narrative stuff, it also succeeds in showing us a completely different side to altan. one that is specifically brought about by chaghan.

would altan rush out into a sea of federation soldiers to help any other member of the cike? yes. but rebecca chose to show him helping THIS member of the cike. in THIS dramatic of a fashion (and it's literally on a horse like that is so fractured fairytale romance of her actually). and it's also the aftermath that really clues us into something deeper between him and chaghan in particular (pg. 373):

along with qara, who is SOUL BONDED TO CHAGHAN BY THE WAY, altan is screaming at him for being reckless and how he could've gotten himself killed. intentionally or not, rebecca is clearly aligning altan and qara here, and i LOVE how it's shown in the way their dialogue is formatted. you don't even know who is saying which fragment. they are one in the same when it comes to the level in which they care about chaghan's wellbeing. and also when it comes to yelling at him for being an idiot! and if that's not love then idk what is