#very 'nothing i haven't seen before' attitude

[iamthetruenhaz]

Disclaimer, this will be a mess. It's 2am, I can't English (I can't Bulgarian either), which means this will be incoherent and the thoughts will be like those of a caveman. Might edit later.

I don't know who Bell Hooks is but I've been seeing a lot of outrage about this post as well as similar posts (I think I've had some too.

The left's problem (mostly from women) is that it's seen as a given that if men feel hated enough, they'll fall into the alt right. So they respond with "if you get radicalized just by some women not being nice to you, you were misogynistic to begin with and we were right to be mean to you".

Which is only partially true. We have a saying in my language - kick a dog enough times and it will start biting. People snap. People react to what they see as unjust, undeserved abuse. Especially when they haven't identified their inborn or ingrown biases that they might not be aware of. (And before you say it, that's really hard to do because "biased person" is automatically taken to mean "bad person" and no one wants to see themselves as a bad person, you only overcome that painful shame by realizing that having biases is something very much human and doesn't in and of itself make you worse than most people, especially if you learn to examine and confront those biases). So people, including men, have a limit to what they can take before they snap. And there's the alt right just waiting to offer you a sense of purpose as a big strong alpha chad male, and put the blame on those evil, evil bad women.

But here's the thing. Two things, actually:

First thing, empathy. You see women being angry at men, all men - let's not pretend that in a moment of anger anyone bothers to make distinctions and avoid sweeping generalizations. Let's just be honest about that. Maybe it's because I always had a number of female friends, including my best friend, and thus was able to get female perspectives on things like MeToo, but it's essential to listen with the intent to understand. I know a lot of women say their male friends just turn a blind eye and start to be willfully blind to their issues but I guess you have to have "women are just as much people as I am and not fundamentally different" as an imperative on a subconscious level and somehow that's not always a given.

Second, critical thinking. Just because someone offers you some "comfort" and "purpose" or what have you, doesn't mean you can't look at them critically and see what they are really about (forgive me, I can't English, it's past midnight). Even if - actually ESPECIALLY IF - they start offering you comfort out of nothing.

I can't say I haven't been tempted to drop down that pipeline, I've felt resentful, unfairly blamed, mistreated. But the language, the attitude, the mindset in those communities, that always just put me off. I guess it comes down to what you really want - for people who hurt you to be hurt as you have been, or for no one to get hurt at all anymore.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Can we get a small snippet of some Medusa fluff to lighten your dash after the emotional journey we've been in with awtr?

Oh haha, oh I still awtr prompts to fill 👀 several, actually

Someone asked for me to write one of Lexa's letters to Clarke and buddy ya buckle up 🙂

But uh, nah I'm putting a moratorium on Medusa snippets. Can't give away the whole thing. How about we split the difference and you get a very, very little MBFW spoiler instead?

////////

They'd been met inside by the shop owner herself, Abby immediately taking a devoted liking to the stout little dictator of a woman whose vaguely threatening aura was only enhanced by the thick sound of an European accent that Lexa couldn't quite pin down. She'd ushered them inside in pairs, waving the women toward her right with a flop of her hand, while directing the men toward the tuxedo rental outlet next door with a droll, "No, here's not for you. Unless you want dress. In which case, you stay. Otherwise, boys, you go," and corralled them through the doorway that divided the two main rooms.

Which was how Lexa had found herself standing awkwardly in a sea of her family and people she'd only met about an hour before, each getting prodded, poked, and pinched by tiny unforgiving hands in the name of getting their measurements. 

"I have been on dates that haven't felt this intimate," Raven grunted before being unceremoniously whirled around and having her arms yanked out in the air. "Ow, shit, lady!"

"No curse in my shop. Only smiles. It's happy day. Okay, you're so beautiful. Go," the owner droned out in monotone clips before planting a hand on Raven's back and shoving her out of the way.

Raven stumbled her way out of the line with a backwards scowl. She made her way over to the bride and maid of honor where they dutifully waited for the rest of the bridal party to finish their turn. "Who fuckin' let her out of the gulag early?"

Clarke barely paused in her casual perusal of the closest rack lined with dress options. "Hey, shush. She's the only one who could promise to have all four dresses done in three days. And her work is immaculate."

"And that's great, but she doesn't have to give me a pap smear and a smack on the ass to get that done."

"At least she didn't actually feel you up," Lexa interjected with a shiver at the memory of her turn in line. She double checked that no one was paying attention to her before lowering her voice and bringing her hands up to roughly cup the underside of her own breasts. "Tsk. You have metal on your boobs," she imitated the shopkeeper in a disappointed whisper, "This will be no good. You take those out day of, okay?"

"Lexa—"

"They're nice, though," she continued in the accent with another wave toward her breasts. "You should be proud. Not cross-eyed at all."

[pynkfairyheart]

Hii I was wondering if you could do an collage au armin arlert oneshot, imagine or Drabble (totally up to you) where armin is a very popular soccer player at the college and since he’s so popular that causes him not have as much time for his gf so she catches an attitude and ignores him and he fixes it ifykyk. I was thinking more of like a dominant or switch armin for this yk?

pairings: soccer!player Armin x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, a lil angsty, orgasm denial, car sex

a/n: i love this request, armin is just so ૮꒰ྀི˶˃ ⌓ ˂˶꒱ྀིა

Ms. Attitude

“I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll make it up later. I love you, bye” The monotone beep of the phone soon followed his hurried voice informing you he ended the call before you could even breathe.

“Yep, I love you too” You mumbled. Glossy eyes scanning the hair and makeup you spent hours on.

This was the second time Armin failed to show up for your date.

Soccer season was picking up and with Armin being the captain you understood you'd no longer be able to spend as much time due to practice, but the frequent outings with his team members were becoming infuriating.

Was it that hard for him to plan around your date nights?

With a deep breath, you soaked a cotton pad in makeup remover. Too exhausted to even take pictures before the excess liquid on the pad mixed with your stray tears. It was rare for you to cry over a guy, even rarer to cry over Armin, but the disappointment was turning into frustration that was too overbearing to contain.

What made things worse is that you felt it wasn't fair to Armin you were having these feelings.

You knew what you were entering into when you said yes to being his girlfriend. He told you his goals from the start; become captain, graduate with a 4.0, play professionally, and ultimately make it to the World Cup.

Of course, you knew achieving all he wanted would take time, and you wholeheartedly supported him.

To maintain a healthy relationship you two had a system. Once a week, you would set aside time for a date. It didn't need to be elaborate or fancy; the simple goal was for you to spend time alone. Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Something Armin didn’t take into account with the new season was the influx of freshmen on the team. This meant lots of bonding time with the team and less time with you.

°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was a week before you saw Armin. Granted it wasn't on purpose and you just happened to catch a glimpse of him from across the crowded room, but you saw him nonetheless.

The events on how you approached him are a little cloudy, your actions encouraged by the shots you took and your anger. The only true remembrance was Sasha’s attempt to make you stay and the snickers from certain teammates who could predict what was about to happen.

“What the actual fuck, Armin.” You huffed

“Baby? What’s wrong?” His smile disappearing at the pout settled onto your face

You were baffled, was he actually serious?

“What’s wrong is that I haven't seen you in three weeks all because of your little bonding outings. Which this does not seem like bonding” A mixture of frustration and hurt fueling your emotions as you motioned to the party

“I know how this looks, baby but I swear we just got caught up after practice, sit with us I promise to make it up to you- Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Nothing pissed Armin off more than when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yes! You've said the same thing every week Armin, you're like a fucking broken record and it's actually pissing me off”

“I'm pissing you off?” The indifferent tone of his voice and minuscule smirk on his face should have told you to stop and think but you were just too upset to think.

“Isn't that what I just said” Your iris slightly disappearing as you rolled your eyes once again.

He’d been waiting for it.

Many people knew Armin to be the passionate sweetheart he was. It was rare to see him upset. That emotion reserved for whenever his team got a foul and occasionally whenever you gave him attitude.

Before you could even register what he was doing he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the party

That little eye roll ended up with you in the backseat of his car, legs on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

“Minniee, pleaseee” You whined, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the pleasure building in your lower stomach

“You wanted my attention right? So stop fucking complaining and hold it like I said” His hips snapping forward as he buried himself deep inside you with every thrust.

You were certain stars were blurring your vision. He was just stretching you out so well, the girth and the angle he was at leaving no spot along your walls untouched with how deep he was.

Just looking and hearing the whines that slipped passed your lips made him want to fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you.

Just looking at you had him on the brink of a second orgasm.

You just looked so pretty to him. Bouncing breasts no longer confined by the tight shirt you wore, hardened nipples glossy from his previous sucking. Don't even get him started with your teary eyes and glossy lips.

What really got him though was the way your puffy cunt surrounded him. Folds so warm and wet with your slick and his cum that your walls failed to contain.

Armin however didn’t reward bad behavior, especially yours. Maybe he’d let you cum if you whined enough, but who knows. For now, he’d continue to use you for his own pleasure as he pounded into you.

“What's wrong princess? Isn't this what you wanted? Caught an attitude just to get fucked like a slut” He hissed, blonde strands sticking to his forehead as he increased his pace.

“I’m sorry, Minnie, please. I just missed you” You spoke through your broken moans and cries

Leaning down he encaptured your lips, his pace slowing as the guilt seeped into him, oh how he wanted nothing but to go back and spend that time with you.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make time for us, I mean it this time” His voice coming out in a whisper as he kissed along your neck

“Y-yeah? “ Speech broken by the newfound pleasure as he applied pressure to your clit

“Mhm, as long as you stop with that fucking attitude” Within that second the soft and caring Armin was gone and now replaced with the Armin whose only goal was to make you feel pleasure

You were so close, every rock of his hips hitting your spot so perfectly you were seeing stars and begging to cum but he kept denying you over and over. His responses consisting of “Be my good girl and hold it” or “You want it so badly don’t you?” a condescending pout resting on his pink lips every time

It was only when he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs up against your chest that he allowed you to cum, pace becoming sloppy as he watched you cream around him, basking in the way every contraction of your cunt added to the milky ring around his base.

The feeling of you clenching around him, the sight of your closed eyes and slightly agape mouth as you came, it was too much for him to handle as spurts of his milky cum forced its way into your stuffed cunt.

“That's my girl” He mumbled. Smirking at the cum spilling from your hole the moment he pulled out

It was only when you felt his hands spreading your legs apart and his tongue plunging into you that you opened your eyes.

“Armin” You shrieked

“Mmm, relax, baby. I've got three weeks' worth of orgasms to get from you.”

[funnyexel]

Can you do a Clark Kent x reader having to deal with working at the daily planet and Lois vying for him even though he only has eyes for you. He loves your brown skin and different styles you rock. I’m a black reader so thank you for sharing your writing.

imagine clark as your coworker

Swallowing thickly as you leaned your head on your fist. Huffing out a sigh, the continuous ticking of the clock, footsteps of your coworkers and the chattering from the Daily Planet News Channel are all pounding on the inside of your skull. You pushed your glasses up higher on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned over the rough draft for the next column. You absolutely hated proofreading, such a tedious and straining job for your eyes. All the overstimulating noises not helping.

And of course a bumbling fool had to prance his way to your desk. You heard the knock against the cubicle but you hoped your hair was big enough to drown out the noise.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

A small corporate smile is plastered on your face as you glance up at the familiar man. A soft glance hiding your underlying annoyance by the intrusion. Looking behind the man for a quick moment, you see two spectators focusing on this interaction.

"I haven't seen you around this floor before. I was thinking we could grab some coffee. I could show you the ropes."

Pupils flickering back to your coworker in front of you, your eyes drop. From a friendly and warm aura to pure annoyance. Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth, you flash a quick smile. The classic white man burden scenario.

There is truly only one way to clarify and shut down this run in. You've tried a number of different approaches but this one seems the most effective...and the most fun. "I've been working here for three years."

You don't know what was more ironic about the setting: your deadpanned voice, his rosy cheeks or his curt nod and awkward walk away. You bathe in watching the confidence drain from a mans face. The shocked look from the somewhat new information and the simultaneous switch from your corporate personality to your regular 'no bullshit' attitude.

You don't understand how a new hairstyle was an indication of being a whole new person. You still had the same face. Maybe that was all white men logic, you thought. But that was an unfair stereotype. There was one man you knew of that noticed. He noticed practically every minuscule thing about you. A tall, stereotypical, blue eyed, dark haired gentleman. He was sweet and sort of awkward but so very easy on the eyes.

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm not going home for the holidays."

The simple question, set the scene for what Clark would ask you next. He waited to get you in the break room alone to ask and clearly you thought nothing of it. But before he could follow up.

"I love going home for the holidays!"

An interruption. You gave a small smile to her but he sighed.

Lois.

Always annoying. Always showing up at the wrong time. Oh, how he hated when she'd simply...'pop up'. Clark pushed up his glasses as he still kept his gaze on you. Refraining from saying anything that would create an awkward situation for you.

"No boyfriend either? I assume."

You only chuckled at the question and he sported a calm smirk. Ignoring the ugly cackle in the background. You provided him all the correct responses. No holiday plans? No boyfriend? He had another question in mind but Lois was continuously interjecting and talking over you. So much so that he couldn't get a second to ask you directly.

Talking to Clark for one more moment, you glanced to the side and notice your other coworker come up to your desk. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you hurriedly leave the break room and met them. He watched the way you stride around your desk in that pencil skirt. Your low heels adding a particular sway to your hips as you leaned over and flipped through flies on your desk. You bent over just right, enough for him to have a peak at that scandalous bra you wore and as if on queue, she speaks.

"Finally! We're alone. So, I was wondering if we could-"

The moment she closed her eyes from immense nervousness, he bolted. Anyone could tell he had zero interest in that overzealous woman. Anyone but her.

It wasn't long until Clark found you again and you were flipping through more papers. He always admired how hard working you were. How you'd apply yourself to everything you did. It was inspiring. It makes him think of how you would be if domesticated. A terrific mother, he thinks. And probably an even better wife.

"Clark?"

Your soft voice snaps him out the thought and he perks up.

"I don't mind it. I'm just not that seasonal. Compared to you anyway."

Like he gives a damn about what you'd be wearing.

"That won't be a problem. Look as pretty as you do and that'll be seasonal enough."

He could feel his stomach flex at the smile you give him. His cock stiffening in his slacks as his eyes scan over your facial features in the sweet moment. Even though he was fully engulfed in your laugh and grin, he still had many things to take care of.

The nuisance. That passive aggressive and flirty coworker. And lastly you.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than life itself.

He needs you full of life and his seed.

He needs you to be his wife.

But he can wait one more Christmas before making that happen.

At least. He hopes he can wait. Because if he see's you with those beautiful braids, he doesn't know if he can resist the scene of fisting them while he pounds into you from behind.

a/n: I'm not going to lie you guys I'm lacking inspiration at the moment but I'm still going to do my best to get through all the asks. thanks so much for the support!

more writing

short stories here

[faeriichaii]

hellooo, i love your writing could i please request angst to fluff where legolas is frustrated and busy he calls reader clingy so the reader sort of distances themselves? no rush ofc but keep up the amazing work 🫶🫶🫶

Words like Poison ~ Legolas x Elf!Reader

A/N: Hii!! Omg thank you so much <33 I haven't written anything with angst in such a long time so I am very very excited haha 🥰Also I hope you don't mind that reader is an elf :) Ngl I accidentally wrote like a bit of a different plot at first and like halfway through I was like 'no this is totally not the request??' So yeah haha I guess I did like 2 in 1 just that the other is only the start of smth and this is like a complete thing :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, lil bit angst ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.1k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: Your beloved prince is stressed and busy with his duties. So, when you approach him to try and lighten the mood, he lets his frustration out on you.

You were walking towards the library of Mirkwood, as you spotted a familiar head of white blonde hair entering said room. Legolas and you have known each other since your childhood. Both of you constantly playing with each other, weaving flower crowns or painting each other some pictures. Even as the two of you grew older, you never ceased to spend time together. Either reading a book or eating some fruits in the garden while enjoying the sun. Or reading about the history of Middle Earth, as well as chores you had to fulfil in your positions. Nothing could stop you two from being with each other and working through it together.

It was only natural that after a while your heart skipped a little more every time you saw him. The warmth that brushed your cheeks every time you two sat a little too close. Or the way the butterflies swirled around in your tummy when he looked at you with his beautiful captivating eyes. It didn’t take Legolas long to notice that your attitude towards him shifted. He also noticed how your smile made his day a little brighter than normal and how your laugh made his body feel warm and content with love.

So, at one beautiful spring evening he asked you if he could braid your hair and of course you obliged. Ever since then the bond between the both of you only strengthened. However, nowadays you rarely catch a glimpse of the elven prince. He was constantly hiding away either in the study room of his father, king Thranduil, or in the library. You haven’t even seen him in a week, so you decided to approach the library and try to find Legolas. Opening the wooden doors, you entered into the enormous room, filled with books and scrolls. Your eyes landed on your prince, who was sitting on one of the many tables. Books were piling up on the side. A smile formed on your lips as you approached him.

“Meleth Nin, I have been missing you.” You said gently, trying not to startle Legolas. His gaze quickly darted to you, before moving back to the book in front of him. “I am sorry, but I really am very busy at the moment.” He said, writing down into the notebook. “I know, but you have been working day and night and I barely got a moment with you.” Pulling out a chair, you sat beside him. Silence settled between the both of you. You pulled out your own book and read a few words, before your attention drifted back to the prince. “If you want to we could go-“ “(Y/N) stop whining around! I told you I was busy and I really can’t deal with your clingy attitude at the moment.” Your lips parted as you felt little cracks form into your heart. You tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. The lump in your throat prevented you from uttering anything in your defence. Your eyes started to burn slightly as the words Legolas spat into your direction settled into your mind and travelled through your whole body, encasing you in utter sadness and discomfort. Quickly packing your book back into your bag you wiped away the few tears that spilled from your eyes. “I apologize your majesty. I will leave you to it.” No warmth was left in your voice as you turned around and quickly left the library, the soft mutter of your name from Legolas lips following you out.

Days passed and you haven’t seen the prince anywhere. Most of the day you spend cooped up in your chambers, reading or trying to fill the canvas with colour. However, your mind was too jumbled up to remember the sentences on the pages, neither could you focus on what to draw. A sigh left your lips as you decided to take a walk around the beautiful garden of Mirkwood. Walking along the stone path your fingers gently brushed against the petals of the Hortensia bush. Your heart still ached at the harsh words Legolas said and at the distance you tried to keep between the both of you. It was hard not constantly seeing him or sharing your experiences of the day with him. “Meleth Nin…” Your eyes widened as you noticed that Legolas suddenly stood in front of you. His gaze was filled with sadness, as he looked at you. “My prince.” Your tone was cold, as you tried to sidestep him. However, he had something else in mind as he gently grasped your wrist. “Please (Y/N) hear me out.” His hand moved lower from your wrist, in order to entangle his fingers with your own. “I am so sorry about what I said.” Your eyes locked with his own, as you got lost in the beautiful shimmer of them. “I should have never said that you were clingy. Meleth Nin, I love you.” His free hand grasped your cheek gently. Warmth spread from his touch through your body, your heart skipping a beat with glee. You missed Legolas. You missed him dearly.

“I can’t stand the silence between us. I can’t stand that we are apart more than just a few hours. My soul and heart belong to you and I ache for you every second we are apart. Please Meleth Nin, forgive me.” His forehead touched yours, as he leaned towards you. “I love you.” After these words left his lips, you leaned into him and gave him a kiss. Your hands held the back of his neck softly, while his moved from your face to your waist, holding you close. His lips were soft against yours. His touch was gentle, as he lets his finger trail from your waist to your back to pull you even closer. As if he was scared that you might slip through his grasp. “I love you Legolas. But please, never utter these words to me. You hurt me deeply.” You said, after the tow departed from your kiss.

“I will never say something like that to you again. I am sorry, really, I am. I just was so stressed and overwhelmed with the workload my father gave me.” A sigh left his lips, still holding onto you. You put a hand on his cheek, softly stroking his face with your thumb. He leaned into your touch. “I know it has been hard for you, but please tell me if something is going on next time.” A smile graced your lips, as the prince gently nodded before pulling you in for another loving kiss.  

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere! Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he meets a human! Innocent! reader and Yandere! Alastor... Where the two of them start fighting over the reader...

Yandere Alastor vs Lucifer and Human Reader

Ha ha ha, I live for the chaos that this would be.

---

“You mean, she’s alive? Not an official sinner?” Lucifer asked.

“Yep,” said Charlie, “Um… we’re not quite sure how she got down here, to be perfectly honest, but she definitely doesn’t fit the sinner criteria in looks or attitude.”

You hesitate before you give a small curtsy to the king of hell. You weren’t sure if the act was going to count against you when you actually died for real, but who knows, maybe he’d be as nice as Charlie was? Either way, Charlie was a good girl, and you wanted to help her out. Surely no one could blame you for being kind to someone, even if that someone is the King of Hell himself.

“Nice to meet you, your highness,” you say, voice timid.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a… living human,” Lucifer said, circling you, as if you were a rare exotic animal, “It’s been decades. Centuries even. And you don’t know how you got down here?”

“No, your highness,” you said, “I really don’t know what happened. I-I just ended up here somehow.”

“And no way to get back home either, I’m assuming?” he said, “How odd. Must find it terrifying down here, not to mention dangerous.”

Charlies chuckles a little, but you see a certain nervousness in her eyes. Your safety had been the talk of many stressful meetings.

“We do keep her as secure as we can,” she said, “Considering she’s so vulnerable down here she stays in the hotel pretty much all the time.”

“Ah, yes,” said Alastor, who seemed to be butting into every conversation poor Charlie was trying to hold with her father, “This little lady here, I assure you, she is under the strict protection of the hotel. The very best, as I tend to her safety personally.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as he said it, pulling you closer to him. The touch startled you, as he wasn’t one for physical affection. In all honesty, you don’t recall him ever touching you in any way ever other than the brief handshake you had shared on meeting. You tense a little at the unexpected contact.

Lucifer’s eyes turn to Alastor and narrow. He looks at him like one would look at a spider crawling on the wall. A chill runs through you with the amount of malice in his eyes.

“… I’m sure you do,” he finally said.

His eyes return to you, a hint of curiosity in them, most of the malice gone.

“But! I’d be more than happy to assist in this matter,” he continued, “I’m not sure if there is anything we really can do as far as sending you back up to earth, but I can do my best to make sure you stay safe. Demons are fine and dandy, but there’s nothing like a royal seal of protection. You haven't made a deal, have you?”

As you shake your head, Alastor’s grip tightens, making your shoulder ache. You worry he’s going to claw through your blouse and into your skin if he’s not careful.

Saying you were uncomfortable would be the understatement of the year.

Lucifer Morningstar

Lucifer would have a clear upper hand in this situation, and oh, the nostalgia you would bring! He’s had plenty of experience getting innocent, naive human women to warm up to him, both in the romantic department and outside of it. While he is a bit out of practice, if he actually tried, I could see him using all of his experience, charm, and knowledge to seduce a shy girl out of her shell.

If you’re still a living human, he’s going to be quite protective of you. You want to leave the hotel? Have you gone straight mad? Honestly, if he had it his way, Charlie wouldn’t let you out of your bedroom with those nasty sinners crawling around the hotel. Do you want to end up as corrupt and filthy as the rest of hell? Perhaps he can talk to Charlie and convince her that you need to be taken somewhere more… secure.

Once he finally moves into the hotel, the real battle is going to begin. He'll be seeing you regularly and therefore make it impossible for him to push you out of his mind. And he has to put up with Alastor's antics now on a daily basis.

While he'd like to think he's levelheaded and mature, I can see arguments with Alastor quickly spinning out of control and getting very personal and very nasty fast. The only thing holding him back from just killing him after a certain point is the fact that Charlie likes him as much as she does.

Alastor

Part of me would wonder if he actually even likes you or if he just wants to mess with Lucifer tbh.

All jokes aside, Alastor would be pissed. He knows that Lucifer is more powerful in every sense of the word, and he can’t do a thing about it. Well, at least nothing that really matters. He’s simply going to have to be more charming than Lucifer is, to the point where you prefer him.

He’s going to pull out all the stops of being a suave southern gentleman. While Lucifer will try to wow you with bombastic displays that only he can provide, Alastor will offer himself as the sweet, traditional lover that has your back. He's a distinguished romantic compared to this circus leading clown. At least that's what he'll want you to think. When it comes down to it, Alastor has far less experience than Lucifer with women and romance.

Also I see him as being one of those people who’s like, “Since I know I can’t lift myself up more, I’m dragging this asshole down to my level.” Verbally throws barbs at Lucifer, both to piss him off and to try to make him look worse in your eyes. He’d have a real hayday if he can provoke Lucifer into saying or doing something that scares you.

Even when Lucifer’s not around though, he’s the type to plant ideas in your mind that the king of hell is simply not a good match for you. He’d use his verbal skills to make Lucifer look less attractive in your eyes or to make you feel like it would be unwise to get in a relationship with the literal Devil.

I’d like to think you’d turn them both down, but they’re both too polite towards women to be that forceful with you, so instead they just butt horns for what feels like eternity over who should have you. Clearly it’s the other guys fault that you don’t want him, not yours! Then when you finally die, you go to heaven, leaving them both quite upset about the whole situation.

But if things did get ugly and push came to shove, Lucifer would definitely win. At this point in the game, Alastor doesn't stand a chance. Hope you enjoy solitary confinement!

[kissforyouu]

Can you write a drabble of Oc being mad at him because some old fling sent him a pic through his DM’s and she saw, even though he never responds to the girl she still got mad

your eyes go completely wide, your expression just— shocked. wait, no, no! jumpscared is the right word. you grit your teeth while staring down at your boyfriend's phone displaying the nude photo of some other woman. and you couldn't help but think that if this was proof of jungkook cheating on you, you would've gone crazy on spot. but fortunately, it's not.

still though, due to your own suspicions you scroll up the chat only to be met with messages exchanged about 5 months before you two's relationship started. thank fuck, he is not cheating. you just almost had a heart attack.

still, you were mad though. the audacity for this bitch to send nudes to a man who's clearly in a relationship. it's not like jungkook doesn't post you, he posts you on all his socials, there's no way she wouldn't know. shame on her, she's just embarrassing herself.

but that's not even what made you mad, though. it's the fact that jungkook had already viewed it. he's already seen the picture and had left it on seen. despite being glad that he didn't reply or anything, you still couldn't help but feel jealous over the woman. you had everything she didn't - jungkook. he has just left her on seen, hasn't even bothered to block her!

you huff, blocking her yourself. fucking hell. great, now your entire mood's ruined.

"my phone's with you?" here he comes.

you don't say anything bad, clearly upset with him.

"i was looking for it. what'd you do with it?"

why? is he scared i'll find all his hoes?

you sit in silence. there was a big fat frown evident on your face, the face you often make when you're angry.

"y/n?" jungkook stands in front of you, raising his eyebrows wondering what the hell he did wrong again. he doesn't say anything but reaches forward to grab his phone from the grasp of your hand.

the moment he does that, you get up, storming out of his living room and into his bedroom. uh oh, you're stomping on the floor. —eek, here it comes ; jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek once he heard the door shut with a very loud thud. at this point, he was used to your attitude. but he just couldn't figure out why exactly you were mad at him.

—oh, nevermind. the man sighs, running his fingers down his face while he took a short glance at the explicit image sent to him by one of his old flings about a week ago. he didn't know you'd go through his instagram. coming to think of it, your attitude is justifiable. its his fault too, noh? he didn't block or anything. i mean, not his fault he doesn't even remember the girl's name.

but he noticed that you had already blocked her. he takes another deep sigh, eyes staring at his door, now closed. he had to console you somehow.

"baby?" your boyfriend knocks on the door thrice, and when you don't answer him, he decides he's gonna break in. it's his room anyway.

he walks in to be met with the sight of his pretty little (angry) girlfriend sitting on his bed, staring into the nothing of the nothingness. you looked cute, he thought. but now's not the time to pull jokes. (i think)

"my love." jungkook walks closer to you and bends down to meet your eyelevel on the bed. but you look away, avoiding his eye contact. he giggles, accepting the challenge and moving his face in front of wherever you're looking at. three or four of these and you're sick of him already, breaking into a whine as you slapped his shoulder.

"who the fuck is gianna and why's she not blocked?!" how come you remember the girl's name and not him when he was the one who talked to the girl for like, uh, uhhh, like, a few months or weeks, jungkook thinks.

"baby, she sent me that shit recently. i haven't talked to her ever since we both started dating, you know that very well. whatever you think happened, did not happen." he looks at you, waiting for a response.

he did say the truth though. you should—

"you're overreacting." nevermind. "overreacting" is crazy.

"i am NOT overreacting." you break your silence, "what would you feel if you saw the nudes of one of my exes on my phone, huh, jungkook?! bet you'd fucking LOVE that."

jungkook remains silent for a few seconds while you gave him the "told you so" look.

"don't fucking talk to me—"

jungkook flicks your forehead, forcefully pulling your upper body towards him so that your face would be pressed against his stomach. you let out muffled screams, completely annoyed.

"come on, i'm sorry, babyyy. we're fine, okay? i will immediately block and even report if this happens again. y/n—"

"eeek! i said don't talk! now—let me. go!" he had you on a headlock so it was harder for you to get out of his grip. you kept wiggling around like a worm, but in the end, you just give up, accepting defeat.

"i'm sorrryyy, my princess. you want my instagram pass? i'll give you. you know i love you only. i'm sorry i made you feel that way." he cups your cheeks, planting a sweet double kiss on your forehead.

but you just glare at him.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Girl of Your Dreams || Pt.2

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl was not in the mood for your pestering so he taught you a (very cruel) lesson.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, edging kink/punishment, oral (fem receiving), generally graphic smut

        Poor Sophia hadn't been found in time. The Farm fell to the freaks, and unfortunately you lost a few of the tribe in the process. You were relieved, however, when Rick said he had killed Shane. He was getting out of hand, and you were glad for the imminent threat of forced sex to be wiped away. Of course Daryl would protect you, and you weren't even sure he'd have to considering your own affinity for violence, but Daryl couldn't always be there and your guard would fall sooner or later.

        All things considered, it was going great. The only threat since you all had taken the prison was the Governor and he hadn't been seen in so long that he was nothing but a mere afterthought.

        On this particular day, you and Daryl were sent out on a run for some basic hygiene necessities, which were in high demand since Rick had taken in the remaining Woodbury residents some time back. You, as per usual, were pestering your favorite redneck with unrivaled fury. 

        Ever since the safety of the prison had relived some of the stress of staying alive, the relationship between the two of you had become rather evident to those around you. Frankly, they all just kind of assumed it was a thing, but to you and Daryl, it was platonic at best.

        "I'm just saying," you shrugged. "Wouldn't kill ya to shower every day. We got them working, if you haven't noticed."

        "I noticed, asshole." He grumbled. "I helped build the irrigation system, if you recall."

        You smirked at his particularly edgy attitude that day. Everything you said got under his skin to such an extent that his usual playful smirk hadn't made a single appearance.

        "Don't shoot the messenger, man. Not my fault you smell like a biohazard."

        "Shut up and cover me." He snapped as he scoped around the outside of the small shop. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, readying your gun and scanning the street for any lurking threats. When he found his way back to you, he told you it was all clear, so the two of you made your way to the entrance. Daryl tapped the glass loudly, waiting for the inevitable greedy rotten bastards to make themselves known. Only two came to the window, clawing and snarling at the glass, desperate for just a taste of your warm flesh. He opened the door and drove his knife into one, while you quickly did the same to the second. Once the two of you had silently cleared any stragglers from the premises, you each got to work, searching the aisles and taking anything that was on the list and a few extra things that just seemed useful.

        When the two of you met back up, it was behind the register, near an unassuming metal door. Behind it was nothing but some empty cardboard boxes and a set of stairs.

        "An attic?" You guessed.

        "Or storage, maybe." He shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

        You crept silently up the steps behind him. No matter how much of an absolute nuisance you were -- and believe him, you were definitely a nuisance -- he'd never let you go first into uncharted territory, and he'd never leave you behind. You were his unofficial sidekick, and the closest thing to a best friend he'd ever had in the world, before and after the rise of the dead.

        The top of the steps only presented another door, so you both followed the same process of carefully opening it and searching for any threats. To your pleasure, the small loft was empty of the undead or the living. It was some kind of living quarters. It had all the basic amenities; a sink and a fridge, a stove, a couch, a bed, miscellaneous furniture. It was quite dusty, though.

        "Guess somebody was stayin' up here." He observed.

        "Probably the owner or something." You agreed, walking around and taking in all the little details.

        "C'mon, ain't nothin' we need here." He sighed, turning to exit the small loft.

        "Aht-aht! Don't be so fast." You spoke up. He turned to you, impatience radiating from his very core. "Now, this," you said, lifting a floral blouse that was meant for a granny. "This would look so good on you."

        He didn't respond. To say he was less than amused was an understatement. With his lack of a reply, you felt compelled to keep it going.

        "I think this would look perfect under that vest of yours. It really suits your aesthetic, ya know? Here, try it on." You threw it at him. He swatted it down with unnecessary force.

        "Quit your shit and let's go. Ain't got time for this."

        "I mean, we literally have nothing but time." You argued. "Like, nothing but time." You emphasized.

        "Well, I don't wanna hear it today." He snapped.

        "What's got your panties all wadded up?" You mumbled.

        "What?!" He asked viciously. You were taken aback a little. You knew you got under his thick skin a lot but he usually was quick to strike back. It was all fun, after all. You guessed you weren't really on your A-Game that day, to be fair. Your insults were mundane at best.

        "What?" He repeated, or maybe growled, as he stomped over to you, looming over you like a dark cloud.

        "I--"

        He cut you off by gripping your jaw harshly with one hand.

        "I warned ya, didn't I?" He hissed. You were too stunned to respond. "I told ya time and time again, keep tryin' me and see what happens. Is this what you want? Its it?!"

        He was fuming, but you, being the sick little freak you were, couldn't help but notice how wet you were getting at the sudden display of dominance.

        His breath was hot and fast as it cascaded over your face. His chest heaved up and down. His eyes danced back and forth between yours as he decided exactly what he wanted to do to you. 

        "I--"

        "Shut up." He ordered, letting go of your face and dropping his crossbow on the coffee table. He kept making slow steps toward you and instinctively you stepped backwards until the side of a bed  hit the back of your knees and you fell onto the mattress. "Is this what you want?" He asked again, suddenly a bit softer. He searched your face for some kind of response, for any sign of consent.

        "Uh.." You breathed, not really sure if you were interpreting the situation correctly. "Is what what I.."

        Your eyes trailed down to his pants, following the slow movement of his hands as they unbuckled his belt and pulled it off of his waist.

        "Oh." You said, raising your eyebrows. Well, yeah, actually. This is exactly what I want, you thought. You looked back up at his face as he waited for your approval for whatever it was he was about to do. 

        "Ain't got all day." He urged.

        His expression was chillingly fierce, but somehow there was still a tenderness in the way he looked at you. 

        You cleared your throat, failing to mask your nerves with confidence. 

        "Finally ready to fuck the girl of your dreams?" You asked. Your voice betrayed you, so shaky and unsure. He chewed at the inside of his lip, smirking a little. You always made him squirm inside with your cruel ways of flirting, but now it was hit turn, and god was it easy.

        With no remaining patience for your antics, he gave you a firm shove backward, landing your back on the mattress. Determined to maintain some semblance of dignity, you propped yourself up on your elbows instead of laying down submissively. He immediately went for your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them as he yanked them downward. Though it was a hot day, the air on your bare skin made you shiver. He worked your pants completely off your feet and threw them to the side before he leaned over you, supporting his weight with his defined arms.

        His face moved toward you and you closed your eyes, awaiting the much anticipated kiss. That, however, was not what he had in mind. His mouth landed in the crook of your neck, biting, nibbling, and sucking at the sensitive skin. You sucked in a small gasp of air and jumped a little at the unexpected sensation. He trailed his nibbling down to your collarbone before he decided to pull your shirt off, then your bra, carrying those sweet bites over to your nipples. You squirmed a little at the pinching of his teeth. You didn't remember being that sensitive, but then again, you hadn't slept with anyone in ages.

        He brought his mouth up to your ear.

        "I'm gon' make you beg." He whispered, before dropping his knees down to the floor and tugging your panties down your thighs, tossing them away somewhere. He spread your thighs open wide, holding them up so that they didn't fall completely flat on the bed. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Was this really happening right now? 

        That question was answered quite clearly when his smooth wet tongue glided between your lips, torturously slow and painstakingly gentle. Your hips jolted slightly at his touch. He continued the same motion, sliding his tongue slowly up and down the entirety of your pussy, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips each time. Once he was sure you'd warmed up to his tongue, he focused more on your clit, finding a steady rhythm, pausing only to add some suction to the mix. You shuddered and moaned as you settled onto his mouth, fully surrendering to his skill. 

        "Fuck.." You gasped, rocking your hips a little as he worked you up. As soon as your breaths sped up and your body communicated the oncoming orgasm, he pulled away. You whined, snapping your head down as he smirked up at you.

        "Not yet." He shrugged, waiting a few seconds before he went back in, starting the whole process over. The whole process. The slow taunting was particularly hard to take this time, after him edging you so close and pulling away. You were relieved when he picked the pace up once more, flicking and circling over your clit, suckling every now and then. Your head fell back down to the mattress, closing your eyes and finding your comfort once more as you got excited for him to finish you. You were already so sensitive that this time it took no time at all to get you there, but alas, he pulled back, refusing to let you find that sweet release you craved.

        "Huh?" You whined, looking back down at him. 

        "Not yet." He said again. 

        And, again, he started the process over again, teasing you, working you up, and pulling away. You let out a frustrated cry as the tension built up in your chest.

        "Why?" You begged.

        "Told ya. I'm gonna make ya beg." He grinned, lowering his face back down yet again. You prepared yourself for another round of torturous edging, but this time was even more malicious. See, instead of repeating the process, he just barely grazed his tongue over every inch of you, everywhere except your clit. All around it, even grazing it a few times, but never fully giving it the attention it craved. By now you were throbbing on the inside, flinching at every instance of contact between his tongue and your pussy.

        It went on for ages, constantly teasing the possibility he'd get back to flicking his tongue over your clit, but it didn't happen, at least not for a while. You were certain by this point that you were so sensitive it would only take a few seconds to get you there if he'd only pay attention to the right spot.

        After a while he did find his way back into the rhythm of licking and sucking at it, but he'd only do it for a few seconds at a time. Still, not taking you all the way, only taunting you with the fact that he could, if he wanted to.

        The frustration was so big it began to spill out of you, a single tear spinning down your cheek.

        "Fuck, Daryl, please." You begged. "I'm begging, okay? Just -- please.."

        You had finally surrendered.

        He ignored you completely. You throbbed inside and out, aching for it to be over. The dance around your clit resumed, never actually crossing over it, bringing all kinds of unholy whines and pleas from your lips. You couldn't take it anymore, but you couldn't bare to tear yourself away, endlessly taunted with the possibility he'd let you cum.

        But he never did. He didn't even take his pants off. Once you were trembling uncontrollably, begging, inconsolable, he just.. stopped. He stood up, looped his belt back through his jeans, and buckled it.

        He calmly stepped over to your panties and tossed them to you.

        "W-What?" You gaped. "No!" You whined. He didn't even spare you a glance as he found your jeans and walked them over to you, setting them beside your bare bottom half.

        "Daryl, what the fuck?" You shrilled, gawking at him. 

        "Said I'd make ya beg, never said I'd make ya cum." He shrugged. Then, he walked away and shut the door.

[robo-writing]

Words Unspoken, Actions Taken

Pairing: Clive Rosfield/Reader (AFAB, female pronouns. no Y/N) Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors DNI Word Count: 1.9k words Summary: After Clive returns from another mission battered and bruised you finally give him a piece of your mind. He doesn't take too kindly to your words. Read on AO3! Warnings: Dom! Clive, angry sex, elements of degradation, p in v actions, unprotected sex, fluff (if you squint) Author's Note: Hey y'all, the world was sorely lacking in Clive fics, so I'm doing my part to change that. I love this depressed man and his slutty little waist too much to NOT write for him. Spoilers for a certain character's death, so if you haven't gotten that far, don't read ahead. Update: There's a sequel now!

You’re not surprised you ended up like this, quite the opposite in fact. Clive Rosfield, also known as Cid, your faithful leader and the very symbol of hope to every lost soul who found their way under his wing. A beacon to guide them towards a better life, and to change the world for the better. The very same leader who regularly risked his life for the greater good, much to your dismay, without so much as any concern to himself. 

He was already somewhat of an errand boy when you had first met him, but after Cid died it grew tenfold. The hideaway, the resistance, the increase of bearer violence, it was all too much. He told you as much after you found him one night drinking alone in his room, a hushed confession under the cover of night that without you he wouldn’t have made it this far and you’d be a liar if the memory didn’t make you feel some kind of way. Despite that, he kept on shouldering more and more responsibility, to the point that it was commonplace to have him leave for days on end, returning one day only to be gone the next. It was concerning to the other residents, but most of all to you. 

You admired his efforts, truly. It was noble, but eventually it would catch up to him. You tried to tell him as much, but he would just wave you away and reassure you that he can handle himself.

You’ve seen him fight, you’re well aware of his talents with a blade, but all the training in the world can’t substitute a good night's rest. What happens if he worked himself to death, found himself behind enemy lines and never returned? 

You couldn’t stand to think about it. You worried about him, and in your worry you found yourself growing resentful of his apparent ignorance towards his own well-being. But you held your tongue, forced to keep your emotions to yourself because if nothing else, having him worry about you would only serve to be another item on his long list of responsibilities. You tried, you really did. And then he came back from a mission beaten to hell. Tarja, talented as she was, only barely brought him back from the brink. He was in bed rest for weeks before he was allowed to leave, and in that time your resentment grew to anger. Was it immature? Yes. Did you care? Not particularly. Your attitude change was obvious to anyone in the Hideaway, most of all to Clive, but he figured you were just in a mood, maybe something had happened while he was recovering. In any case, you two were close, you would tell him eventually. It was only after he returned from his latest life-threatening mission that he realized that you were mad at him. Again, you tried to hold yourself back, but when you saw how ignorant he was you couldn’t take it anymore. Words were said, some of which came from a place of genuine care. The others, however… “You’re an idiot if you think I’m going to stand by and watch you kill yourself—” You hissed at him, pacing around the floor of his office. It was there the two of you stood, a back and forth with no end. “I need to carry on his name, his legacy—” He raises his voice before stopping himself to take a shaky breath. “I need to live up to his dream. Don’t you understand that?” “Oh I understand plenty,” You fume. You’re not quite sure where this malice came from, but it was all consuming, ever burning. “Don’t you know that I—we need you here? Alive?” He shakes his head and he says something about his duty and his obligations and you’re completely over it, obviously anything you say is going in one ear and out the other. “Do you think Cid would want you to work yourself to death?” You ask, concern written on your face. “Do you think he’d be proud to see you take no care to yourself?” He doesn’t even look at you anymore, his head bowed. “If it’s for the good of the cause—” You interrupt him before he can say another word. “If you genuinely believe that then you’ll end up dead, and his sacrifice would’ve been for nothing.” The silence that follows is deafening. His footsteps ring heavy in your ears, moving closer and closer. “What did you just say?” The anger in his voice is apparent. You’ve never seen him like this before, a rage normally reserved for his enemies directed towards you.

You probably should’ve stopped, but you didn’t. “I said, if you truly believe that then you’re wasting the chance Cid gave you.” You look up at him unwavering, consequences be damned. He needed to hear this. Clive stood unmoving, an unknown emotion swirling in those vibrant blue eyes of his. “Be careful of what you say next.” And then it broke. The dam holding everything you held back before shattering into pieces and before you knew it you were awash with emotion. “You’re a bastard Clive, if you truly can’t see how you’re hurting the people around you by acting like a complete fucking idiot, then you don’t deserve his legacy or his name.” You wanted him to get mad, wanted him to feel the way you’ve felt for a while now. What happens next is a blur, limbs entangled and skin exposed, but based on how fast the front of your body met the desk, you met your goal. “Couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, fuck—,” He hisses above you, but you’re too far gone to care. You have been for a while, too lost in the feeling of his hands against your hips, his cock dragging against you deliciously. “Just had to keep testing me—” It’s almost embarrassing how easily you let him have his way with you. Your body completely under his control, every gasp of his name only serving to feed his ego, encouraging him to go faster, harder, more, more, more—

“Clive—!” “That’s right, say my fucking name—” If the squeaking of the old wooden desk he’s taken you on wasn’t already a sign of what was happening in the room, the shameless moans escaping your lips would be. “Let the entire hideaway know whose cock you’re begging for.”

You do, without any thought to how loud you may be.

The force of his thrusts are brutal against your backside, your body aching and yet you can’t stop moving, desperately trying to meet his every thrust. It’s hopeless, but he seems to enjoy your attempts at least, a wicked chuckle escaping him as he watches your body move on his own. “Is this what you wanted, hm? To be used like a pleasure girl?” His body is pressed against your back now, the full weight of him blanketed against you. Your breath catches in your throat, his lips whispering absolute filth into your ear. “Upset you couldn’t have me all to yourself? Don’t worry, I’m right here.” His tone is cruel, mocking. “I’ll make sure you never have to worry again.”

He doesn’t stop moving, how could he when you sound absolutely debauched below him, a picture perfect image of sin to be molded by his own hands. He fucks you just as he fights, ferocious, unyielding, unrelenting, finding every single one of your weaknesses and taking advantage of them until you cry out that it’s too much, that you can’t take it, and doesn’t give you a moment of reprieve. A glutton of your own making. He laughs, a sound so far separated from his normal self that you almost don’t recognize it as him. “Come now darling, you were ready to spit venom at me before, where’s all that fire gone?” He breathes unevenly, a hand moving to push your head further down. He’s taunting you, dangling your own shameful display in front of your very eyes. Even if you wanted to respond you couldn’t, the sound of your hips meeting, echoing through the room proved answer enough. “Clive—fuck—please ‘m sorry—” Your body is racked with shudders, whimpering when he runs a single hand down your spine, forcing you to arch even further and have him reach that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “What was that? I don’t think I quite heard you.” He sneers from above. You mumble into the desk, unable to bring your head up to speak. “I’m sorry, please, can’t take it, too much, pleasepleaseplease—”

A hand around your throat silences you, his lips grazing against your ear once more. “Oh no, I don’t believe that for a second.”

He lets you go, only for that same hand to grab your face, fingers pressing against your cheeks. He forces your tear-rimmed eyes to gaze at him from below, a contrast to the sinister look in his own. “Can’t take it? Too much? I don’t think that’s true—” Another hard thrust has you keening, back arching, a fog of lust clouding your brain. “—I think you’re going to take everything I give and more.” He’s right of course, and you do, graciously. Your legs threaten to give out, shaking, barely holding on, and in an act of mercy he grabs your weakened limbs with a strong hand. Practically a rag doll at this point, he lays you onto the desk, legs wrapped around his body to bring him as close as possible. You can see him in this position, see the way his brows crease and furrow every time you clench onto his cock, the pleased grin that lingers when you grab onto his arms, seeking purchase. It’s filthy. Clive doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

To watch his advisor fall apart at his hands, to drown in waves of pleasure begging for more, please, I need more—

It’s addicting, sadistic in ways he never thought himself capable of. He can’t get enough. A painful dance of give and take. He gives pleasure and takes your very sanity with it. He takes and takes until you’ve nothing left to give, until you’re a writhing mess of slurred words and half-mumbled promises. He can barely understand you at this point, your mind far away, but he doesn’t need to. He can understand your body well enough. “Clive, please—” You gasp, nails dragging deliciously against his back. You don’t have to speak, he knows what you want before you do. Without another second of hesitation his fingers move vigorously against your sensitive nub, and if he thought you were gone before the feeling of his deft hands working against your sex send you to new heights. The choked noise that escapes you is downright heavenly. “Gods above—!”

He’d be flattered if he wasn’t so busy fucking you into next week. Sweat clings onto your skin, and for a moment he conjures up an image of an angel, the sheen highlighting you in such a way you almost seem to glow. And then he watches your eyes roll, feels your pussy clench against his cock and you fall over the edge with his name on your lips like a prayer, and thinks to himself that you’re more of a devil than a saint.  Your breathing is ragged, completely spent, nearly delirious with desire.

But nearly is not enough for him.

So his hips still grind against you, and you’re far too weak to resist him, not that you would have in the first place. A give and take, and Clive was always a little greedy.

“We’re not done yet, my dear. Not by a long shot.”

[spahhzy]

When little Jaune Arc got to the playground, he honestly thought it would be the same old playing by yourself thing. Most of the other kids were in the process of being trained by their families in the way of being a huntsman.

Jaune sighed. He, too, wanted to be a huntsman... but for some reason, his family never wanted to train him. No matter how many times he asked or begged, it was still a resounding 'No' from both mom and dad.

Jaune feet kicked up some dirt as he made his way towards the swing set, but to his surprise, instead of it being empty, their was actually someone sitting in the swing next to him.

Timidly, Jaune got into the swing next to the stranger, feeling a bit uncomfortable as the stranger face was covered with a hood, but Jaune did his best not to pay attention to the stranger but them sitting and NOT doing anything wS beginning to scare him.

???: Don't be afraid friend.

Lil Jaune's blue eyes widened as he heard the stranger speak, how did he know!?

???: I promise you I mean you no harm, I'm just here to think is all.

Jaune: o-okay...

???: Why are you here all alone?

Jaune: ...uhm cause I-I don't have any friends.

???: Really, well, that makes two of us...I too don't have any friends....well, that would be a lie...I had one good friend but I haven't seen him in a long time.

Jaune: Wow... I'm sorry, I'm sure you guys were very good friends.

???: You betcha, you could say we were inseparable!

Jaune: Wow... I wish I had a friend like that... Everyone is just off being cool heroes and stuff...

???: You want to be a hero?

Jaune: Oh boy, do I, that's like my dream!

???: What does a hero usually do?

Jaune: Hero's....uh they help those I need, like in the stories and fairytales.

???: So you want to help people?

Jaune: Mmhm! I wanna help everyone!

???: Everyone, you say, hmm? You know what, you're going to be someone hero one day, I can already see it.

Jaune: Really, sir, you mean it?

???: Mmhm! And you know what, if I may, could you help me out? Think of it as part of your hero training.

Jaune: But I'm not a hero...

???: Not with that attitude you won't be. Think of this little request as the stepping stones of your training!

Little Jaune pondered for a moment but reluctantly nodded if he could begin to start being a hero in training then he would help the stranger.

The stranger reached into his cloak before pulling out...

Jaune looked on in awe...their in the strangers hands was a small blue sleeping... kitten?

???: Can you watch after this little fella here? They have been through a-lot...

Jaune paled...he couldn't bring home a cat, his mom and dad would be upset!

???: I know what you're thinking, and don't worry, only you and some other folks can see them.

Jaune: Really...

???: Oh, most definitely! Your mom, dad, and sisters will see nothing.

Now Jaune was beginning to have doubts...a invisible cat?

Jaune: Wait...who are the other people who can see them?

???: Bad bad people, they tried to hurt the poor fella. I don't have names, but I can tell you one will have a metal arm with red eyes, another will be snow witch with a scar on eye, another will have gold eyes and cat ears just like our friend here and another one will have silver eyes and a large scary stick...

Jaune just gulped. These people seemed like real villains. Why would they want to hurt this poor cat!

???: lastly, watch out for the silent double colored terror... she will be the most persistent.

Jaune just nodded as the stranger gently handed him the blue kitten.

???: You're gonna be a great hero, Jaune. I can already see it in you.

Jaune: Y-you think so?

???: Oh yes, I already see a little bit of my friend in you, and he was my greatest hero.

Jaune: Wow!

???: Yep, but it's time for me to go now, little hero. Remember, take very good care of our little friend here, and when the time is right, I will meet you again in a land where fantasy comes to life!

Jaune: O-okay, uhm...

???: J.C.

Jaune: J.C?

???: mmhm!

Mama Arc: Jaune, honey, come on its time to go!

Jaune: coming mom...uhm thanks J.C for...giving me a chance to become a hero.

Jaune then carried the kitten close to his chest as he turned his back to the stranger, who waved at him, Jaune turned and waved back before finally returning to his mom as they both left the park, and Jaune found it weird but he thought he saw bright blue eyes coming from the stranger...ah well must have been a trick of the light.

The stranger watched as Jaune and his mother left the park before looking at his hand that began to fade away.

???: Yes, you will become the hero, Jaune...my hero!

A gust of wind blew around him as his hood fell and revealed a mess of blonde hair and a slightly old face marred with a disturbing chesire grin and bright blue eyes.

CCJaune: My hero forever!

[chuunyu]

Honestly, I find Mizuki relatable for the reasons a lot of people have said they can't relate to them. This isn't to put down anyone, I just wanna share my thoughts too cause other perspectives are interesting ^^

For context, I'm an afab nonbinary lesbian, and I present fairly feminine most days but I am transneutral. I have an accepting family and awesome friends who I know would support me.

The problem is that I'm always scared to come out. Specifically scared of *how things will change,* just like Mizuki is. I don't want people to awkwardly try to acknowledge my transness in regular conversation, or to try to be extra nice because they view me differently but want to pretend that nothing at all has changed, I just want to be the same old me that I always have been. I felt seen by their story in a way I haven't by a lot of other queer media- the anxiety of coming out not being tied to a lack of acceptance but to the *almost* imperceptible way things change and the sudden feeling of being different where you weren't before, especially if everybody around you is cis. It's scary and I think Mizu5, and Mizuki in general, capture that perfectly

Oh huh, I wouldn't have assumed there'd be that kind of appeal to someone who isn't amab transfem.

It makes me think about how actually maybe Mizuki's character being focused on acceptance and nothing else actually helps broaden their appeal, despite still having the complexities that come with being amab.

In general, Mizuki could be relatable for anyone who's fem but has some aspect to themself that others them from "normal" women. For example, being intersex and having that information get out. Really anyone queer can relate to the whole thing of fake acceptance and fear of change.

And that makes me think that actually Mizuki's character is maybe less... imperfect like I've said before and more-so that they were designed really well. They're a character that isn't just accessible by transfems and I think that, that's powerful.

From the two asks I've gotten, I've noticed that people really appreciate or relate to Mizuki despite not fully seeing themself in them. I think that's really interesting, but I don't really know what to say about it exactly.

When I think about the issues that come with Mizuki's acceptance, I think about attitudes towards amab people and their friendships with women. As someone who's been othered by most women in my life outside of when they've wanted to date me, the ways I think about how Mizuki's friendships would change after coming out is very particular. There's always this assumption that amab people are predators and terfs apply that heavily onto trans people. When I see Mizuki after mizu5, that's one of the big things that I think of and maybe it'll be important in the story, maybe it won't (it probably won't). That's a part of how I relate to their situation though. Mizuki being villainized, like, you know, the song,, lol

idk

I think it's cool that there are so many angles of relation to Mizuki! I think it's really cool.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 4/10

+18

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

He should have never given you a day off, Ruben thought. You had been gone for hours, without telling anyone where you went. Ruben woke up that morning to an empty apartment. Okay, Max was there but he was an early riser and always went out for a morning run. You, on the other hand, wasn't an early riser. You'd wake up around the same time Ruben did. He would listen to your footsteps puttering around the kitchen while he lay in bed. By the time you knocked on his door to give him his shot, Ruben had been awake for hours, thinking about you and how he would do anything to feel your hands against his face again.

"Do you think she's gone missing?" Ruben asked Max.

"I thought she said that she had an audition this afternoon?"

"A what?"

"An audition. She's an actress, you know? A really good one too."

"Y/N, an actress?" Ruben found it very laughable. Actors and actresses possessed the skill of lying to the world. That night, looking into your eyes as you held his face, Ruben saw nothing but the truth in them. The truth that you were indeed the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen.

"Yeah, apparently she's studied at one of the best acting schools in London."

"Oh, yeah? Then how come I haven't seen her in any movies?"

It was a slow day in the park. However, Max refused to bring out the tennis balls. Despite the surgery, it was obvious that Ruben's conditions had yet improved. He feared that it was getting worse. And with that thought his creeping depression would return to him with the thoughts of never playing football again. That, and the fact that going blind forever meant never seeing your eyes again.

"I dunno, she said something about the movie industry being misogynistic and unfair to women." Max explained.

Ruben snorted. "Sounds like excuses to me."

He was an asshole at heart. Ruben knew that. But you didn't, or at least pretended not to notice. It's the reason why he hired you. You had an attitude like no other, an attitude that was reflected in your snapping tongue. Whatever Ruben put you through, no matter the insult, you always looked at him the same. Not with pity like his mother. You looked at Ruben as if you could see right through him. See through the pain in his heart and the many many failed attempts to better himself. You gave him the illusion that he might be good enough for you. However, the whole world knew that he wasn't. Not with his broken mind.

The sun had gone down by the time you got back to the apartment. Ruben and Max returned from the park hours ago. You had missed dinner and Ruben didn't like that. Did you have dinner somewhere else? With someone else? If that was the case, the two of you really needed to talk.

"Ruben?"

It was right on cue that you knocked on his door. You had made it a habit to check on him before you retreated to your own room. Ruben would never admit it, but this was the favorite part of his day.

"Come in." He said, sitting up in bed. He perked up even more seeing you appear in the doorway, your face painted with makeup, wearing a tight black dress that hugged your shape in ways that struck his sinful imagination. No bandages covered his eyes during these hours and luckily you wore a coat over your naked shoulders, preventing Ruben from completely losing his mind at the sight of you.

"Hey, I just wanted to check on you." You said.

"Well, like all the other nights you've checked on me, I'm still alive."

His cheesy comment made your smile fade. Good job Ruben, he thought. Even in the dark he could see your distaste for him.

"I mean, do you need anything before I go to bed?" 

"No."

"Oh, okay."

You lingered in the door frame, perhaps feeling forced to make small talk. "Max told me that you guys went to the park today, did you have a nice time?"

"Yes."

"Good."

An awkward silence followed. If you would only step a little closer to the bed so that he could see you clearly. Ruben's vision got a bit blurry where you stood, since his eyes still needed time to adjust, even to the dark.

"Did Max let you exercise again?" You asked.

Ruben snorted. "No." 

"I'm sorry about that."

Perhaps you felt guilty ever since his little fumble in the park, where Ruben's heart topped the average rate. Max refused anymore advanced brain exercises after that. The reason for Ruben's newfound restlessness. Nevertheless, he didn't blame it on you.

"It's not your fault." Ruben said, looking at his hands. "We'll start again in time."

You nodded. "You will get better in time, Ruben, your doctor said so himself."

You had started taking him to his weekly appointments. Although you were much better company than Ruben's mother, he didn't like the look of pity that you gave him as the doctors would pin all those needles in him to run their many many tests. You would never see him for the man he really was, a football player.

"Where were you?" Ruben asked, pleased to change the subject.

"Erm...out." 

"Out with who?"

Your arms folded. "Why do you assume I was out with someone?"

"You were out alone?"

"Yes, yes I was. Believe it or not."

"Why were you dressed like that?"

You looked down on your dress. The light from the hallway reflected off of the little specks of glitter, putting dots on Ruben's walls, making it look like little stars roamed above their heads.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" You frowned.

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It just looks like you were going on a date or something."

"And if I were?"

"What?"

Ruben's reaction made you smile. "Yeah, if I did in fact go on a date, what's it to?"

"I don't....." 

He choked on his words and you laughed.

"Relax Ruben. I'm only dressed like this because the audition I went to required it."

Of course, he thought. Max told him about your acting pursuit, although he still doubted that you were a good one. However, Ruben was curious. "How did it go?"

"Shit." You sighed and to his surprise stepped into the room. "The directors wanted me to run lines in a scouse accent. Like, who even knows how to do that?"

Ruben laughed. He thought about the many times he had been scolded by the Liverpool fans. He never managed to understand a word of what they were saying to him. He doubted anyone knew what they were saying, not even themselves.

"All I'm saying is thank God for this job, otherwise I'd probably be on the street begging for leftovers."

"I'm sure you'll get your breakthrough." He said and really meant it. If it wasn't in your heart to work for him it could turn ugly very quickly.

"I dunno?" You sighed and to Ruben's surprise, felt comfortable enough to take a seat on his bed.

His legs stirred under the covers to distract him from the blood rushing to parts of his body that he really didn't want to come alive right now. Luckily, the room was dark and you sat on the foot of his bed. Nevertheless, your silhouette was enough to send him off. You were beautiful beyond the light, and if he was ever given the pleasure to touch you one day, he'd forsure make it memorable.

"Ruben?"

Fuck, he thought. You must have caught him staring.

"Yes?" He replied, cupping his groin under the covers.

"I want you to be honest with me."

Fuck.

"Before I go to bed...."

Yeah, he's done.

"Of course." He said, clearing his throat.

"Do you need my help getting to the toilet?"

"Pardon?"

You avoided his eyes out of cheer embarrassment. "You know...." You said. "To help you pee?"

If only God did drive-by's. "No, Y/N." He sighed. "I'm good to go on my own if I have to."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It's my body, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying. Last time..."

"Last time was a first."

"Right." There was a hint of a smile on your face. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Ruben's heart sank, seeing you leave his bedside. "Y/N?" He exclaimed, stopping you at the door. 

You turned around, eyebrows raised. 

"Erm...you look beautiful."

Your face lit up. "Thank you."

"Yeah, um....goodnight, I guess." Ruben was quite desperate for you to leave.

"Goodnight Ruben."

He fell onto his back once the door shut. And an odd surprise awaited him as he slid a hand down his sweatpants. Ruben had been told that parts of his body could remain permanently affected by his injuries. Like the next man he wondered if that meant his abilities to perform in other places than just the football pitch, and unfortunately the answer was, yes. Like the next man Ruben had tried watching porn in all kinds of outrageous themes. However, nothing had done it for him. But now here he lay, with a full fledged erection and one person on his mind. 

As he began stroking himself, Ruben thought of stripping you of that dress of yours, touching you in ways that would pleasure you to a point of rapture. Oh how he would love to rip you apart, to hear you moan his name.

"Fuck."

As much as he wanted to make the moment last, Ruben was too horny to maintain a steady pace. He stroked his dick like his life depended on it. As if his mother could burst into his room at any minute.

"Shit...." 

Ruben ground, succumbing to his own temptations. He felt pathetic afterwards. Like an animal unable to control his urges. Nevertheless, he made a promise that the next time he came, it would be inside of you.

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

[judyprincess]

Too Pink For me - Logan Howlett +18

Chapter 6: It is not love?

Time passes, and the flowers wither in the face of the intensifying cold. The vibrant and soft colors lose their intensity, fading away before the imminent autumn that brings with it ochre tones adorning the trees. This marked the time Rosellina had spent at the mansion; a week had gone by, and as she formed strong bonds with those first people she connected with, her relationship with that cold and harsh man seemed to remain frozen in time without remedy. Was it her constant desire to make others happy that prevented her from accepting the situation with the man whose long life had been marked by misfortune?

"Do you often think about Logan?"

Rosellina's eyes widened, feeling her cheeks flush at Charles' words. She quickly let out a small laugh, shaking her head to ease the nervousness in her body.

"Please, don't take it the wrong way," she said in a low tone, looking at the man before her.

"I'm not; I'm just curious," Charles replied, sharing her laugh with a paternal smile as he watched her. "What bothers you?"

Rosellina looked at him. Did that situation really bother her? Was that the right way to describe it?

"I just don't want to be a bother." Her confession was accompanied by a faint smile. "I don't want to cause trouble for anyone."

Charles observed her, delving beyond her words. He didn't sense a yearning to be loved, at least he had never seen any indication of that. In fact, Rosellina even seemed to accept mistreatment. There was a need within her to bring happiness to everyone.

"Logan is a man with a long path of pain behind him, forged through the harshest trials life can throw at someone; he is a person completely different from you." Charles spoke, glancing briefly out the window. "His old heart, beneath that red shell, doesn't respond well to attitudes like yours. It could be... like an illusion."

The Italian listened attentively, intrigued by his words.

"I don't understand," she confessed, a bit confused.

Charles shook his head, maintaining his smile.

"My dear child, many questions are only answered with time." Charles gently caressed her with his words, acknowledging her innocence. "Soon you'll see that some things just resolve themselves."

Rosellina closed her eyes when she felt Charles' hand pat her head affectionately, like a child. She felt a hollow sensation in her stomach, a butterfly fluttering intensely, and her heart leaping. She looked up at him, seeing his affectionate smile directed at her. She didn't fully understand what he meant, but that attitude made her feel as if there was nothing to worry about, as if all the bad things disappeared.

"Now, even though you're a teacher, you're still my student. Time to continue. How about it, Rosa?" he said, moving his chair back to take up the position they both held before.

"Of course, Professor," Rosellina replied, her spirits restored.

"Your mutation is very connected to the mind, though of course, it's not the same as telepathy. It has its limits," he explained, opening his notebook again on his lap and preparing the pen, reviewing his notes. "For now, you manage to create a very realistic reality, though its duration could be improved; for now, it's short, depending on how much you need to create for the other person." He continued, looking over the results of previous sessions. "Moreover, I maintain that if we keep up the exercises, you could see memories, though it would require more prolonged visual contact—it would be your bridge."

See memories?

Rosellina wondered to herself. She had never considered the full extent of her powers. They had always developed gradually over time. That possibility seemed so far off.

"I'm not sure I can do that, Professor," she said, her voice carrying a hint of doubt and trembling with uncertainty.

"Nothing is impossible, my dear. We mutants are proof of that," Charles remarked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Your powers have a wide reach; they haven't even fully developed yet. You could have a better range than Jean or me when it comes to viewing memories. That's the hardest part for us."

She listened intently. She was intrigued to know how far her abilities could extend, but beneath her palms, a slight tremor revealed her growing nervousness. Was it fear? Rosellina had never fought anyone, had never hurt anyone. Everything she showed had always been a moment of joy. Was she scared of discovering what she was capable of?

"I... Could I hurt someone?"

That question planted a prolonged silence. Charles took a deep breath before giving his response.

"Anything that involves an intervention in the brain can cause significant damage if exposed for too long or used incorrectly, even resulting in death," he replied in a frank tone, watching her closely. "That's why you're learning to use them, to know when to stop or do what's necessary."

Rosellina felt a void for a moment as she looked at her hands. A lump in her throat choked her.

"I will." That firm voice resounded after minutes of silence, and she looked at Charles with determination. "I'll do my best, day by day," she continued, anchoring herself with resolve. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Charles was surprised by her determination. More than for herself, she was motivated by the desire to keep those affected by her illusions safe from any collateral damage. How much nobility there was in this young woman who had always been alone. How could someone, immersed in constant solitude, generate so much love for those who might not even know how to return that same love to her?

"Rosa."

"Sir?"

Charles let the pen rest on the notebook, looking at her as she waited expectantly for his next question.

"Do you remember when your eyes started to release this power? Have you ever used it on someone?"

That question might have been the greatest transgression. A chill ran through her, like cold water. That's what Rosellina felt. She was left speechless, her lips moved slightly several times, but no words came out. There was a long, heavy silence until Rosellina, finally struggling as if swimming in open waters, managed to speak.

"I... I don't remember," she said, her voice trembling.

What was that? It felt like a part of her life that had never existed, something she hadn't thought about until now. She felt like much of her past was blank.

"All I know is that, from one day to the next, I was already living in my house... alone." She didn't even understand why her body felt so heavy.

She wanted to express it casually, but her body reacted so involuntarily. It was like the sting of a scab being lifted from an old, forgotten wound that had never healed. Had it always been enough for her just to put a bandage on it and forget about it? Even now, as she tried to remember any moment, everything seemed blank.

Charles felt a sense of déjà vu. He could see in Rosellina's expressions the same look he had seen in someone else who had said the same thing to him years ago. He pondered the situation for a moment before moving his chair closer to her again. All he could feel was the same emotion: concern.

"May I?" 

Rosellina opened her eyes to him, understanding what he was implying.

She hesitated before nodding, feeling Charles's fingers at the sides of her head as soon as she gave her approval.

Charles closed his eyes, delving into her memories. He immersed himself in her mind, traveling through her most recent recollections, moving further back in time. The sea, people watching her, murmurs, a mix of distance and admiration—so much loneliness for the most part. The deeper he went, he only saw Rosellina always on that balcony with a painting, occasionally gazing out at the sea. Meals in solitude, reading in solitude, walking in solitude. No matter how much he searched in her memories, he couldn't see images of her old friend Jackson; it was just Rosellina, alone in a house she gradually filled with color. Charles didn't want to keep looking—these types of memories always led to the depths of sadness—but he wanted to help Rosellina, and for that, he needed to know more about her past.

Charles reached a memory of a 13-year-old Rosellina, creating her first painting. A fallen angel—was it Lucifer? A painting in a style that was both Renaissance and Baroque. In the memory, Charles rose from the chair, walking around the scene. Rosellina's gaze as she painted, those green eyes fixed on the painting, tears falling as her gaze drifted away.

"Rosellina...?"

He barely murmured, his voice an echo that spread through the memory. What had happened? That emotionless look depicting the fall of the traitor from heaven. The one who sinned, the one cast out from heaven, the most loyal whose pride consumed him. But wasn't he still misunderstood? Could there always be a different interpretation? The one who saw evil in those he loved so much, who had to react by wielding his superior powers? Or... was it simply about making clear that he was the one who deserved to be on a pedestal? The one they should love for his beauty and follow his word without question?

I must go further back.

That was Charles's thought, feeling his feet heavy as lead, wanting to push further, but he found himself in a forest out of nowhere. When he tried to leave it, he encountered an endless green field, stretching so far it seemed infinite no matter how far Charles advanced. It left him frustrated; her own mind had blocked those younger years with an illusion. Why had her own mutation created a barrier around those years? Charles opened his eyes, returning to reality, looking at her. He swallowed hard, stepping back, noticing how she raised her gaze toward him, curious.

"Did you see anything? Did my father appear?" She showed a small smile, a hopeful glimmer that maybe she could recover some good memories.

Charles, before his honesty, always put the protection of his young ones above all else. El miro su sonrisa, esperando sus palabras.

"I couldn't see much; I've already mentioned that my area with memories isn't great," he said with a bitter chuckle, more for himself. He gave her a gentle smile. "But I think I saw him for a few brief moments." Seeing the gleam in her eyes only made him feel more guilty.

"Really?" Her smile brightened the mood from before, but it only made Charles feel worse.

"I can't see beyond your 13 years; your own mutation protects that part, and I couldn't say why." Charles avoided her gaze, making notes in his notebook. "We'll work on it, and I trust that we can learn more about you and help you however we can, okay?"

Charles managed to give her one last warm smile, watching her enthusiastic smile as she nodded gratefully.

"Today's session has been tough. Why don't you go spend the rest of the day with the others?" he suggested, rolling his chair back behind his desk.

"Yeah, I'm actually a bit tired," Rosellina confessed, though she seemed happier. She stood up, smiling at him. "Thank you for everything, Professor, truly."

Charles just wanted her to leave—he didn't deserve that smile. He didn't want to see that face smiling after he had shamelessly decided to hide what he had seen in order to protect her.

"See you tomorrow!"

She waved before closing the door behind her. Charles let out a deep sigh, thinking as he looked at one of the shelves where a letter from his old friend lay—the letter that had led him to send Ororo and Jean after Rosellina.

"What inhuman thing have you done, Jackson...?"

He murmured, caught between anger and guilt, shaking his head inwardly. He felt committed as her mentor, not to save his friend, but because of the feelings this kind woman had toward everyone. Rosellina didn't deserve this.

Unaware of this, lost in her little bubble of illusion, Rosellina made her way through the hallways, humming an old romantic Italian tune.

"Roxy!"

Rosellina turned around, seeing Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue approaching her with smiles, greeting her.

"Hey guys, how's your day in class?"

"I just want to graduate already; I don't want to do Ororo's homework," Bobby groaned at the reminder of his assignments.

"You're so lucky, Rosellina, you get to give out the homework," Kitty remarked with mock envy, making the Italian laugh.

"Any progress today?" Rogue asked curiously, as usual, while they walked through the hallways toward the gardens.

"Well..." Rosellina thought for a moment before sharing a bit about her session's outcome. "I have things to improve, like my overall perception through things and the duration of my illusions." She bit her lip before continuing. "It seems I have a part of my memory blocked."Everyone looked surprised and intrigued by her confession, but it piqued Rogue's interest the most, and she quickly spoke up.

"Huh? Like Logan?"

Rosellina paused at Rogue's words. Like Logan?

"Logan also has his memories erased?" the Italianasked, her curiosity growing about the man who probably didn't want to see her around.

The idea of sharing something like this with him felt strange and intriguing to her.

Rogue suppressed a smile at Rosellina's growing interest in her gruff friend and nodded.

"Yes, a part of his life is blocked—he can't recall anything from that time. Not even the Professor has been able to help him," Rogue explained as they continued walking toward the garden.

"Not like Logan's the most cooperative person in the world. If something doesn't work, he gives up and does things his own way," Bobby added with a hint of mockery.

Rosellina found herself slipping into thought. Knowing she wasn't alone in fa

cing this kind of problem stirred a mix of emotions within her. Had Charles failed to help Logan because the mental block was too formidable? Or perhaps it was due to the limitations he mentioned in terms of memory manipulation? She suddenly remembered Charles suggesting that she might possess a stronger potential in that field. Could she, perhaps, help Logan?

Her thoughts, now a maze of possibilities, were interrupted by soft giggles and hushed conversations drifting from a nearby bench in the garden.

"Scott is handsome, but Logan is something else."

"Yes, rugged and mysterious... exactly my type."

The laughter and dreamy sighs of a group of girls, no older than sixteen, pierced the quiet afternoon air, catching the attention of the four as they leaned in to listen more closely to the conversation. The girls were blushing, whispering amongst themselves. Turning their gaze toward the far end of the garden, they noticed Logan approaching with a cigarette in his mouth.Rosellina was somewhat surprised. She hadn't realised Logan was the secret crush of many students. True, he wasn't unattractive—his rugged features and strong presence were hard to ignore—but his demeanor was like an impenetrable barrier.

"I don't see what they find so fascinating about that guy. It's like he hasn't bathed in days," Bobby remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're just jealous, Bobby," Kitty teased, sticking her tongue out playfully, enjoying the look of mild offense that spread across his face.

"Jealous? Me?" Bobby said, a note of mock defence in his voice, as they all watched Logan stroll across the garden. "Why would I be jealous of a guy whose idea of a fragrance is stale beer and nicotine?"

"Well, you've got to admit, it kind of suits him," Kitty chimed in with a soft laugh.

"Girls love that bad-boy, mysterious vibe, I guess," Rogue mused. "Plus, Logan is pretty protective when it comes down to it. Hard not to fall for that, when he's the one standing in your corner."

Rosellina found herself reflecting on Rogue's words, her gaze following Logan as he walked, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. She observed him with more curiosity now, her sharp eyesight zooming in on him almost instinctively. Rogue's insights into Logan made him seem less intimidating, more complex. Her eyes trailed over his well-worn jacket, noticing how even beneath his clothes, the strength and discipline of his body were apparent. He carried himself with an air that intrigued her, sparking a new sense of wonder about the man who kept so much hidden beneath the surface.

"Roxy, what do you think?" Kitty's question jolted her out of her thoughts, making her feel like she'd been caught red-handed.

"Huh? About what?" She laughed nervously, playing with her hair in an attempt to hide her unease.

"Logan, duh," Rogue said with a small smirk. "Admit it, you think he's handsome."

"How could she think a guy who treats her like dirt is handsome, Rogue? Come on, give me a break," Bobby objected firmly.

"Well... he does have a certain charm," Rosellina admitted, leaving Bobby momentarily speechless. "But that doesn't mean I see him as a potential partner," she quickly added, noticing everyone's anticipation.

"I give up. You're all out of your minds."

Bobby let out a deep, exasperated sigh, leaning back on the railing as his gaze followed Logan. Suddenly, something caught his eye, and he straightened up, peering beyond the fountain.

"Okay, remember when I said that if Logan can't get something right the first time, he just gives up and does his own thing?" The three girls looked at Bobby with curiosity, wondering where he was going with this. 

"I take it back. The guy's relentless when it comes to trying to win over Jean."

All three of them quickly moved to the other side of the garden's upper level to see what Bobby was talking about. In a secluded corner, partly hidden by tall hedges, they spotted the pair that always seemed to attract attention. Rosellina, in her innocent confusion about the situation, decided to voice her question.

"But, I don't understand... aren't they already a couple?"

Rosellina took a step back when the three mutants turned to her with such speed that it felt like a scene out of a horror movie.

"What?" Kitty blurted out, utterly incredulous.

Laughter erupted from Bobby, and Rosellina could see him clutching the railing for support as he struggled to catch his breath. He tried to speak between fits of laughter but couldn't quite manage it.

"You're going to choke, Bobby," Rogue said, patting his back as he continued laughing, trying to regain his composure.

"Oh, Logan as Jean's boyfriend, that's a good one," he managed between the last bursts of laughter, wiping away a stray tear. "Do you see alternate realities, Roxy?"

In response to Bobby's teasing, Rogue gave him a light pinch on the back, causing him to yelp and snap back to his senses.

"That hurts, darling," he grumbled, rubbing the sore spot.

"I don't understand..." Rosellina murmured, looking between them. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I don't think you knew this, but Jean is Scott's girlfriend," Kitty mentioned, a hint of discomfort in her voice.

Rosellina felt an odd jolt inside her. Was that how things stood? The three of them quickly brought her up to speed on the situation. Alongside this new information, they watched the supposed couple conversing below, with a few subtle touches exchanged, of course.

"The thing is, well... it's a weird love triangle," Kitty concluded under Rogue's angry gaze directed at the pair in question.

"I never would have guessed..." Rosellina's response to the news seemed important to them, but it left them frozen in place. "I mean, whenever I've seen them together, there were... well, signs that they might be a couple."

"But that's just like what you're seeing now, Roxy. Logan can't keep his hands to—"

"It's not just him."

To Bobby's surprise, Rosellina jumped in, cutting him off as she shook her head.

"She flirts with him too. I've seen it, how she touches him and looks at him. I've seen things; I can say it's not just him." Rosellina wasn't trying to justify whatever it was they were doing, but she didn't want Logan to bear all the blame when she'd noticed signs from both sides.

The four fell into a silence broken only by the soft sound of the breeze. Rogue tapped the cement railing lightly, looking at Bobby and Kitty.

"I told you, I don't like that woman. She always comes off as the poor victim," she spat out, unrestrained and clearly frustrated.

"We can't exactly say she's cheating on Scott, I think—I mean, maybe she's just trying not to hurt Logan's feelings. She cares about him in her own way," Kitty attempted to calm things down, but her words only earned her a disbelieving look from Rogue.

"That's absolute nonsense," Rogue retorted angrily, resenting how people always seemed to justify Jean in these situations. "She's a little manipulator, stringing along poor Scott, who's always been loyal to her."

Rogue felt Bobby's hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Take it easy, love. I enjoy some drama, but I'd rather not have people overhearing us," Bobby said, glancing around cautiously.

"That's not love, Bobby. We all know it; it's something toxic that's only hurting Logan," Rogue replied wearily, gently pulling away from Bobby, while Kitty looked on, clearly concerned.

Not love?

Rosellina turned, placing a hand on her chest, watching as Jean pulled away from Logan once again while he tried to keep her close. She observed the expressions, the silent pleas for her to stay and respond to his touch, while everyone else seemed oblivious to what was right in front of them.

Bobby, sensing the tension, couldn't help but let out a soft laugh before making a cheeky comment.

"I still think that guy just needs a night with a prosti—"

"Bobby!"

Kitty and Rogue's shouts cut him off, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"What? It's true. The poor guy must be surviving on cold showers or... other means. I don't know how he manages. He should just disappear for a few days and enjoy himself—bet he's done it before."

Bobby continued with his insinuations, which went far beyond Rosellina's usual thoughts. The Italian woman remained innocent at heart, though she wasn't entirely naive about what Bobby was hinting at. But his boldness was enough to make her cheeks burn. The thought lingered in her mind when she was alone. Was Logan really that kind of man, with such... desires?

Why are you thinking like this, Rosellina?

She shook her head as she finished putting on her pajamas, scolding herself. Her eyes stung as she glanced at the clock: 1:35 a.m. She sighed softly—she'd stayed up far later than intended, preparing lessons for the children. She placed the papers and assignments into her bag, pushing her hair back with another sigh. The frustration of her insomnia, combined with the burning in her eyes, wasn't going to help her get to sleep.

"Why do my eyes sting so much?" she murmured, rubbing one of her eyes.

She turned towards the door—again, that familiar itching seemed to precede when her eyes would want to peer through the walls.

Rosellina's eyes flared with intensity, her vision extending beyond the hallway, piercing through a second wall. It happened involuntarily, without warning or intention. She knew this could happen, that her eyes might betray her control and show her things she didn't wish to see. And yet, as her gaze penetrated that second wall, her eyes widened at the sight unfolding before her—served up on a silver platter, like a feast for which she had not been invited.

Logan's body, completely drenched in water, faced away from the door, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. Water droplets traced their way down from his perpetually disheveled hair, now soaked, flowing with precision over every defined muscle of his broad, powerful back. The muscles seemed like perfect pathways for the water streaming from his hair. If Rosellina were to describe it in terms of art, she'd say that Logan was living proof against the claim that the male form could never be as perfect and grand as ancient sculptures sought to depict. A perfection admired since ancient Greece.

She didn't want to keep looking—this was wrong in so many ways—yet she continued, driven by the curiosity and desire to see more. She was sinning; Rosellina was aware of this. Then she saw him turn, revealing the front of his form. It was impossible to decide which side was more striking from an anatomical perspective. Rosellina had seen countless nude models in paintings and sculptures, but this was different—Logan, bare from the waist up, was something beyond what she had encountered in art. 

She could see every detail: his neck leading down from his strong jawline, his collarbones giving way to those well-defined pectorals that rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. Veins traced paths all the way down to his eight-pack, each muscle absolutely defined and impressively built. It stole her breath—how just a slight movement from the man displayed the full extent of his sculpted body. Those veins seemed to lead her gaze inevitably downward, toward that V-line guiding to forbidden territory. Where was her sense of shame? She needed it to appear and give her a slap for her daring thoughts. She watched as Logan adjusted his sweatpants, pulling them down slightly, revealing just a hint but leaving the rest to imagination.

Rosellina swallowed hard—why couldn't she stop her gaze from drifting lower?

Logan, meanwhile, adjusted his pants, intending to find a shirt and head downstairs to grab something from the kitchen or smoke a cigarette. He couldn't sleep, and that was what he craved most to settle his restlessness. Then his animal instincts kicked in—he felt watched, intensely watched, exposed under a pair of giant eyes. A slight shiver ran down his spine, and he looked directly toward the door. His instincts rarely failed him; he could sense someone's gaze.

Rosellina snapped out of her trance, realizing the gravity of her actions like a sinner who had fallen prey to the devil's temptation. Instinctively, as if caught red-handed, she quickly turned off the lights in her room and pressed herself against the wall, crouching down, covering her face in overwhelming embarrassment.

"Diavolo Rosellina, cosa stai facendo? cosa fai, cosa fai peccatrice, questo non va bene. Dio, perdonami." She muttered under her breath in her native tongue, like a prayer, hoping not to be discovered.

Rosellina felt her breath quicken, panting, as she heard Logan's door open. Through the small gap at the bottom of her own door, she could see the hallway dimly illuminated by the light from Logan's room. She heard his heavy footsteps as he left. Rosellina covered her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing—she knew all too well, from Logan's own words, how sharp his senses were, thanks to that almost animal side of him.

Those footsteps kept getting closer.

_______________________________________-

"Cursed sin that brought me to my own situation, drenched in misfortune by the temptation of my own greed."

[atla-confessions]

"...projecting the Zutara dynamic onto Zukka..."

I am sorry, how is that even possible? Sokka and Katara are very different characters, with different personalities, different personal subplots, different stories of relationship with Zuko. Even if the shippers (both zutara and zukka) make water siblings OOC, Katara and Sokka still don't resemble each other at all, and also have nothing in common with the canon sibling character.

Haven't read a lot of zukka fics – do they really have plots where Sokka is totally miserable in his marriage and has to be saved from his abusive canon spouse (Suki, I suppose?) by a knight in shining armor Zuko? Do they have plots where quiet obedient Sokka is hated and constantly bossed around by his family and his whole village, forced to do all the work for everyone, until saint Zuko shows up to save him from boring laundry and mending clothes and neverending cooking? Do they have plots where Sokka is so tired of being nice to everyone and always pretending to be happy regardless of the shit happening around/with him, and Zuko is the only one who allows him to unleash his hate on the world, which is somehow the true Sokka's character? Because, despite having a limited knowledge about zutara dynamic as well, I've seen the things listed above pretty often in fics about Zuko and Katara, and literally never – in fics about Zuko and Sokka. I also haven't seen the catacombs scene or "The Southern Raiders" rewritten in any way with Sokka in Katara's place. Do such things even exist? Are they popular? Seems not, but I am not an expert, so if you know this stuff, please share, I need to cringe sometimes.

Also the overall zutara attitude looks like something "this pairing should be canon, look how meaningful it is, it carries the whole narrative, all the themes, all the symbolism, they are destined for each other, etc.", while zukka is more like "these two both can be very smart and very stupid, and it's fun imagining them together". So zukka doesn't even need dynamic from zutara, it will just be of no use.

If you were talking about ambassador-of-the-water-tribe-in-the-fire-nation or fire-lord's-consort or arranged-marriage type of things, I am sorry, no pairing "owns" that. Similar things might exist for any pairing where one of participants is royal and the other is an important foreigner. Or are you referring to wedding necklaces? Katara is not the only one who is allowed to wear it. I understand that zutara became popular earlier and zukka later, but it doesn't mean projecting. If these plots/tropes – not a dynamic, but at least all this stuff I have seen in both pairings – work well (or very badly) for zutara, they work just as well (or as badly) for zukka. Seriously, two characters in the pairing marrying each other is not something that haven't existed before Atla.

If you meant something that I haven't mentioned here, please, tell me what you were talking about because I am really confused with this phrase of yours.

X

[in-hav3n]

all I can think about is James (1996 James or current James) and phone sex. both of you just getting off to each other's voices because you haven't seen each other in so long and both of you are just so needy. OH LORDY I CANT 🤭

𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗

WARNINGS : NSFW - sex scene - masturbation

I can already hear his voice on the line, saying the most naughtiest things to you 🤭 but they'd do it differently.

Let's start with 1996 James. If you have seen "Cunning stunts" (i recommended it to you if you don't yet) or any shows from that era, you know well then how crazy, excited and ecstatic James is at a gig. He's sometimes drunk, screaming, singing and running around all around the stage, even coming closer to the public to rock hard with them. So he'd be in the same mood when he'll have you on the phone right after, chatting for a while about the usual stuffs before going straight to what he would have loved right now if you were on tour with him.

He'd tell you first "I miss my pretty baby - I wish you were there, completely naked in my bed so I could take care of you" and you'd answer with moans, hearing his low and feverish voice before asking him to tell you how exactly he'd take care of you. And James would give you all the details about how he'd make you feel so good with his mouth, his hands, his tongue and then his cock.

And things will be even more intense as soon as he'll discover you're touching yourself on the other line. He'd ask you, or even beg you, to confess loud what you'd want him to do. "I want your cock inside me, I miss you so much James - I want to feel you - I want you to give it to me" He'd end jerking off too, as you would be both sharing about what you'd like to do on each others body until you both came hard. Moans, groans, gasps and whimpers can be heard on the line. James would be the first to come, gig's adrenaline had given him a hard boner he needed to fulfill. You'd cum after when he'll tell you that you are good girl for him...

For current James - my! Here's the hot idea I have on my mind...

James told you once how much he missed your presence and touch during tour so you decided to surprise him with some nudes first. Nothing too explicit tough. You exposed some parts of your body, his favorites of course, in casual or explicite poses and nothing else. But tonight - or this morning for him due to the jet lag - you want to try something new...

James is far from home for a month now because of "M72 tour" and you miss him a lot. You've never been separated for so long and let's be honest, you also miss his touch. You call him then on camera and you already drool when you saw him with his sleepy face, chest half covered with the covers. He is still in bed and he is absolutely adorable.

You talk for a while about tour and life at home when suddenly James would say, raising a brow, "I see you're wearing a very nice nightie. Never saw this one. Is that a new one ?".

You'd giggle, pursing your lips with an enticing attitude. "Mmh maybe". The you'd show him with the camera, moving your phone to show him what you are wearing exactly.

"Oh baby...", he lazily said, admiring you. "You just wake up the beast" he teases with a low giggle, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Did I?". He'd grin and move his phone as well, slowly pull off the covers, exposing his boxer and soon his semi-hard dick. "Oh James !" you'd laugh, biting your lip. This simple vision making you more horny than you already are.

"Now you'll have to help me. You're responsible for that". You notice how hard he gets, how his cock twitches and just get an idea. You change the camera to sit down on the floor, in front of your bedroom big mirror. You then open your legs to show him you're wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

"Naughty little girl... You did all that on purpose, didn't you?".

"Don't you like it ?", you'd start to tease him, slowly sliding your fingers along your pussy lips, letting out a lazily moan as your fingers slowly approach your entrance.

"God baby, that's absolutely erotic", James mutters as you notice his left arm moving lazily in a well-known movement. "Don't stop playing with yourself...do it for me".

You'd do as he asked. Your index slowly makes tight circles around your clit, with a lazy pace before teasing more your entrance by thrusting one then two fingers inside, your mouth letting out gasps of pleasure. "Are you touching yourself too ?".

"Look how hard I am just for you...", he'd move his camera again to show you his hard dick, his hand wrapping it with his thumb on his swollen red tip. You'd whimper of surprise and arousal, not even thinking this would have given him such a boner. "I wish you could put your pretty mouth on it baby..."

"Oh...", you moan, "I wish I could be next to yo on my four, sucking your perfect old dick...". You'd both moan and groan at your sentence and keep touching yourselves, watching intensively the camera. "Tell me what you'd like to do to my little pussy James".

James moves on his bed to be more comfortable and places his phone straight, near his balls, so you'll see him from the front, stroking himself in a frantic pace, big hand around his manhood. "I want to eat this pretty pussy of yours. I want to taste it cause the taste is so sweet...I bet you're completely wet now"

"Oh god...", you'd purr and whimper, fingering yourself even harder with sloppy movements, you hand hitting hard your skin as you feel good sensations running through your body. "James...".

"Yes baby girl...?", he'd hum with his low voice, stroking himself harder too cause he'd feel his orgasm coming. His voice is really hypnotic and vibrates thought your entire body.

"Oh it feel so good...I want your cock to be inside me now, pouding hard into me like this..." and you showed him with your hands how you dream of it.

"Tell me how much you want it", he groans as jerking off faster, you'd hear him pant at every movement. Your fingers move in a fervent way inside you as feel this familiar pleasure knot building inside your core, ready to explode at any moment if you focus on it. But for now, you just want to enjoy this pleasure pulling inside you.

"I want it...I need it...", you'd moan, with your eyes closed like if you were saying a prayer. James' voice were enough to guide you over your orgasm as well as his words. He knew how much you love his dirty talk...

"That's it...keep fingering you hard babygirl. Imagine this is my fat old cock filling you up, imagine how I'd pound so hard into you...on your four, this is exactly what you love right?"

"Oh my god...", you suddenly cry out of pleasure, feeling that a few more pumps would be enough to make you explode. James knows you well and understands he's doing it right. And he knows exactly what arouses you the most. Helped by his words, you mind plays a movie of your previous sex sessions and you start to see the most erotic scenes : you sucking James off, you being eating out by him or even you being rammed on your four like he told you.

"I'm thrusting so hard into your tight wet pussy...I'll cum so hard inside you...". James doesn't need to say more, you soon cum hard. You gasp loud of pleasure, a flame of desire and pleasure burning hard inside your lower belly as your fingers move faster, pouding deeper into you. Even it if lasts a few seconds, the sensation is strong and hit you hard, making your legs shake a little and your entire body shiver.

Your orgasm is enough to boost his own desire. James closed his eyes and leans comfortably against the mattress as his hand stroke his hard dick faster. He looked back at his phone again and seeing you this way pushes him deeper. He can't believe how hot you are and the images he had depicted you also play in his head like a porn movie until he finally releases his seed on his stomach, with steady strokes, groaning and letting out guttural moans for your own pleasure.

You look at him with a feverish glance, biting your lip as you were recovering from your own orgasm. God, you couldn't believe how hot he was and how you succeeded to put him in that state. Well, he succeeded too and the mess between your legs is a solid evidence of his success. James pants hard, releasing the last drop of his cum in a hoarse deep grunt as contemplating the mess on his stomach.

"Are you okay baby?", you'd ask him with a big smile on your face, still feeling high after your climax. James takes a few more seconds to catch his breath, panting hard, and finally nods at you.

"Gosh, you're gonna be the death of me", he chuckles as searching for something to clean his stomach but sadly, he can't find any. "Damn, I thought I had something on my bedside table to clean myself..."

You'd giggle as closing your sore legs, choosing the selfie mode on your phone now. "So sad I'm not there to help you..."

James looks at you with a serious gaze and you can tell by his gaze that he just got an idea. "You know what ? Take the first plane, I want you with me, tonight"

A/N : Thank you sweet anon for your ask ! Phone sex is absolutely hot idea, hope you'll like it!

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I just read Mammon's The Guardian Demon devilgram. Adorable! Mammon is top tier dad. My mc will fight those witch and raise that girl in Devildom with her father as God (or whatever obey me verison of God is) intended! I need dad Mammon in my life right now. Does the game mention his daughter more in other stuff?

Also Imma punch Solomon in the face. Sometimes this game makes it really hard to like Solomon. Why is he written to go out of his way to put down Mammon!? Yes, all of his brothers do it, but at least they know him and care about him when they're not being shitheads to each other. Why does Solomon have so much beef with Mammon? I'm not saying he can't, because everyone does. But idk it feels more aggressive when it comes from Solomon. Maybe it's because I haven't seen much of his character aside from the devilgrams and pop quizzes.

-💙🐏

Yes!! Definitely one of my favourite devilgrams! Outside of the Devilgram they mention her in S1 and in S3, I believe, Mammon mentions the three witches and going up to the human world frequently to meet them

Okay so about Solomon,

-> He thinks in a very practical way rather than an emotional way and, though his constant smile and upbeat attitude may not show it, he's rather cynical (the complete opposite of Mammon). We see this a lot in Nightbringer, where he's constantly preparing for a fight between the human world and other two realms and is heavily skeptical when MC talks about making the other two realms see humans as equals without it leading to a fight.

-> He talks about how demons (and angels) look down on humans and about wanting to make them see humans as equals but he himself seems to see demons as lesser than humans. He somewhat admits this in s3? s4? where he says he only started seeing demons as friends recently. But even this doesn't stop him from collecting them and trying to use them as weapons against their own people if he needs to

-> Solomon has lived a long time and it's made him very stuck in his belief that demons (and angels) see humans as lesser beings and nothing, other than proving it wrong through force, will change that. Even though we do see the attitudes of demons changing slowly throughout s1-4 with Diavolo's pilot exchange program

-> Solomon doesn't really have any family members or even close friends when he's first introduced in S1. The closest people to him are Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen and we already know that he didn't see the demons he had pacts with as friends until recently. So that just leaves Thirteen, with whom he has a very atypical friendship. They care about each other but they wouldn't put each other before anything else. He doesn't seem to have the best understanding on what typical (specially familial) relationships are like. This is why Solomon initially believes that MC, being human, would be like him and pick the safety of humanity over their loved ones. When almost any average human would tell you that they'd pick their loved ones over countless faceless strangers - something even Nightbringer knew

So Mammon's whole deal with the witches for the sake of some human child probably made him very skeptical. And so he tries to break it down to something that's more understandable to him, something that fits within his belief system

Eg: "Oh she's not excited to see Mammon because she sees him like a family member she just has a silly little kiddie crush on him"

^ Which is an insane thing for him to say, specially when both Mammon and MC (two of the most emotionally intelligent characters in om!) instantly pick out the fact that the girl sees Mammon as a father figure

But Solomon interprets it like a crush because crushes make sense. You can have a crush on a demon, specially if they helped you out. Hell, there are demons specifically there for you to have crushes on like Asmo and the succubi and incubi. But for a demon and a human to see each other as family? That's strange

Anyway Solomon is such a complex and interesting character, there's just so much you can unpack there, but I tried to keep this short as possible