#and before any of you say shit about me using Femme | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yawnderu · 7 months

Text

She Wants Me Dead - Miguel O'Hara x Reader | Part I

I support women's rights and wrongs.

cw: toxic situationships, pathetic Miguel O'Hara, femme fatale reader, suggestive situations.

1 2 3

I love her so bad but she treats me like shit.

Miguel knows it's wrong. Hell, he has known from day one she was never someone anyone should ever get involved with. Oh, how he wishes he was strong enough to lock her up and throw away the key that held his love for her.

Oh, take this veil from off my eyes.

''Hey, big guy.'' His body tensed up when he heard the voice coming from behind him. His heart aches. He hates when you do that, showing up all smug as if you don't disappear for days, contacting him only when you need him.

''I missed you.'' He barely glanced down at you, noting how you always appear to make yourself smaller, even more adorable. Your soft, small hands running up and down the muscles on his back before your arms wrap themselves around his waist.

''... why do you do this to me?'' Is all he can ask, turning around and leaning down as he picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist while your arms hold his neck for support, face nuzzling his neck as you take in his scent. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the way your body fits perfectly on his.

''Do what? I like you— You're the best.'' A soft kiss is delivered to his jaw and he flinches slightly, breath hitching and neck growing rigid as you keep brushing your soft lips against it. He hates how his whole body language changes to show a degree of submission to you. He, the Spider-Man 2099, a 6'9 beast of a man who can tear through anything with his sharp claws and talons, becoming absolute putty under the hands of a villain much smaller than him.

''You know... You're the only superhero I like. Not only because you give me money— I mean, a big part is because of it, but you also look cool.'' You praise lazily, knowing he'd love any compliment coming from your lips.

''You know what? ... You're my favorite villain.'' I hate myself. His body is still tense from holding you so close, yet he can't help but want you, despite all he knows about you. Despite the way you use and abuse him. His voice is husky, but it's true; he's completely under your spell. A soft snicker comes from your lips, instantly making him roll his eyes.

''How much do you need this time?'' He changes the topic. He has a feeling and he knows you'll ask for a big amount of money, but he wants to hear you say it. He already pays for your lifestyle, yet somehow that's not enough for you, so he bends backwards to please you and avoid anything that can make you angry, upset, or leave. He has the money for it, anyway.

''Hmm... Just around $3000.'' You shrug your shoulders and look up at him with the same cat-like grin that makes his knees weak every. single. time.

''Just three grand?'' His shock is clearly feigned, yet you still snicker softly and his eyes lose a tiny bit of the edge in them. ''if it'll make you shut up for another 10 minutes, I'll give it to you.'' He shrugs his shoulders, acting uninterested as if he wouldn't lose his shit if you actually didn't talk to him for 10 minutes after your return.

''After that, I'll stop for a while. I'm not your cashcow.'' He adds as an afterthought, giving you a sharp look.

''You're not?'' You ask teasingly, voice laced with mirth as your lips brush against his neck again, planting a kiss right on his pulse. ''What if I do this, papi?'' Your tone is seductive, voice barely above a whisper. Miguel nearly stumbles back in surprise, plump lips parting slightly before he regains his composure. It takes everything he has in him to stay still, allowing your warm tongue to lick a clean line across his neck, muscles tensing up under the warm mass.

''You little—'' He can't even finish his sentence, your lips latching onto his neck after his suit disengages just enough to give you space to kiss, sucking on the previously covered skin as you leave your mark.

''Little what...? Little slut?'' You tease, gently licking the mark you made before starting to make a new one right below, being mindful enough to make sure that body part will be covered by his hologram suit.

''... Yes.'' He gasps softly in surrender, a low moan escaping his parted lips as he holds you even tighter, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. He can feel his entire body shake from his knees up.

''When will I get the money?'' You finally let go of his poor, now marked up neck, looking up at him with the same smirk that he sees on his dreams and nightmares.

Miguel takes a second to catch his breath, looking around to make sure no one is near his office before he replies to you. ''When do you need it? Today? Tomorrow?'' His tone is even and businesslike now that he regained his breath.

''Today would be great.'' He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, internally slapping himself yet wondering how someone so beautiful could be so evil. So shamelessly manipulative.

''You'll have it by tonight.'' He confirmed, his voice firmer and his expression serious as he looked down at you, still carrying you like you weight nothing— and for a man his height, you don't.

''But it'll be the last time. I'm not giving you any more money after this.'' He adds while looking at one of his monitors, afraid to look at you in fear of his resolve wavering.

''So I'll have to ask another man for money, Miguel...?'' Your tone is controlled and dangerous, though he can hear you feigning sadness at the news. Your hand holds his cheek, thumb right below his high cheekbone as you force him to look at you. ''What if he wants something else from me?''

Miguel bites his tongue and clenches his fists. God fucking dammit. He knows better than this. He hates when you make it all about you, and he hates how he falls for it every single time, as if he didn't know all your tactics by now.

''... Fine. You can have your money.'' His voice is rough, almost a growl, yet he knows better than to argue.

''You're amazing!'' You praise, arms raising slightly as you fake excitement, as if you didn't know he'd relent anyway. He rolls his eyes, a huff of air coming out of his nose as he gives you an unamused look.

''I'm doing what any good man would do, mami.'' Keep telling yourself that. ''And I'm not amazing, I'm a dumbass.'' He knows full well he's being played by you, that you'll turn those comments on him and use them as ammo, yet he doesn't care. The truth hurts either way, so he chooses to ignore it, he chooses to ignore the little voice in the back of his head and he chooses to love you.

''I'm serious.'' You give him an honest smile— something totally different from those teasing and smug grins you give him when you get your way. Just a pure smile that shows you're having fun with him, in a good way.

His gaze softens slightly when he realizes how honest your smile looks, the way it reaches your eyes and lights them up like stars he could gaze at for eternity, yet eventually the sun has to rise, this time in the form of the harsh reality.

''I see right through you, muñeca. I know your game.'' Miguel says, not rudely and his words don't hold his usual snark.

''It was never a secret.'' You shrug your shoulders, clearly not affected by him knowing you're playing him like a fiddle.

''Never said it was.'' The corners of his lips pull up in a subtle, knowing smirk as he looks down at you. ''But you should know that even without all the manipulation and the games... I'd do anything to help you. I'm a sucker for you, mami.''

''You'd do anything for me?'' Of course that's all you got out of his sentence.

''... Obviously not anything. I draw certain lines.'' He answers with pure honesty, trying to make it seem cool despite having you so close to him. ''But you know me. It doesn't take much to get whatever you want out of me.'' My heart is more yours than mine.

The corners of your lips tilt up into the smirk he knows all too well, yet you don't reply, simply staring up at him with your head slightly tilted to the side, examining his features like you have him under a microscope.

''You could have any woman... so why me?'' You ask curiously, the question that has been eating at your brain finally leaving your lips.

''Why not you?'' He turns the question to you, eyebrows slightly raised as he gives you a knowing look before elaborating. ''You're smart, charismatic, beautiful... Why any other woman when you have it all?'' You hum in acknowledgement, thinking about his words.

''Is it tiring? Loving me?'' Your tone is much more honest this time, as if you're deep in thought. His heart fills with fake hope as he sees your honest expression.

''Tiring? No...'' He replies in a whisper, voice rough for a moment as he thinks about it. ''No, mami, but it's hard.'' He matches your honesty, adjusting you so you're more comfortable as he carries you.

''I know you use me, but I still love you either way. It drives me crazy.'' He admits with a soft chuckle, a small smile on his lips despite the hurt in his eyes, showing you just how honest he's with you.

429 notes · View notes

xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

Text

Missed Me?

Final part for real this time, no cliffhanger I swear!!

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

Warnings: none, fluff and sweetness

Info: obi-wan loves his brother; even if he does occasionally want Anakin to double over from a swift punch to the gut. Satine is a lawyer btw

“Sweetheart.” Anakin speaks low and steady over the phone. “I need you to listen to me.”

“What? What’s wrong Ani?” Your response laced with worry.

“Deadbolt the doors, make sure the garage is padlocked okay?” He said sternly, so you immediately did as you were told, switching the call to speakerphone.

“Anakin what is going on?” You demanded.

“Sweet girl, your mom knows okay? She took the Camaro and left me here with divorce papers.” He said calmly.

“You’re fucking joking.” You gasped. “She stole your car? Well I’ll come get you!” You started to rush to the door when he sternly told you no.

“I called my brother, he’s coming to get me. Satine is doing us a big favor and drafting up some paperwork. The house, my car and your car are under my name anyway. Your mom can’t win any of that in court okay?” He reassured you.

“So then-“

“Baby, I told you I need you to listen alright?” He reminded you. “I’m not pressing charges over the car. She’s headed home to get hers I believe, or at least that’s the way she was headed last time I looked at Life360.”

“Keep the doors dead bolted understand?” His tone was oddly calm, as if your whole world hadn’t just crumbled.

“R-right okay.” You whispered.

“Hey- princess, don’t worry. Everything’s fine okay? We are fine.” His voice now gentler than before. “I promise, this divorce won’t be messy. It’s very clear cut okay?”

“But what about you An-“

“No. Nothing is happening to me.” He said. “Nothing. You’re over 18. Everything is fine, I swear it.”

“Okay.” You sighed. “Satine said so?”

“Yes baby. I already told them-“

“Shhh! Shh, mom just pulled in.” You whispered as if she could hear you from the driveway.

“Don’t you dare hang up.” He said sternly.

“I’m not!” You huffed, going to the window to peek from behind the curtain.

You watched as your mother chucked Anakin’s keys at the front door, flinching when you heard the impact. Your mom walked over to her own vehicle and opened the trunk, lifting a backpack out. The yellow glow of the porch light was just bright enough that you could make out the heap of bags in her trunk. She’d already packed her things.

“Oh shit.” You whispered and backed away from the window as she walked toward the front door.

“What?” Anakin demanded.

“She’s got a bunch of bags in the trunk of her car but she’s coming up the porch steps right now.” You squeaked.

The door handle rattled and you heard keys jangling, the twist of the lock, and the forceful push of the front door. Then came the rapid, loud knocking.

“Hey!” She yelled. “I know you’re home. I want to talk to you!”

“No. Don’t say anything.” Anakin warned. “Obi just pulled in, don’t talk to her. Not even through the door.”

Anakin could be heard shuffling and slamming his brothers car door, instructing him to get him home as quickly as possible.

Your mother kept knocking, even going so far as to rap on the window in hopes that you’d hear her out.

“Please just talk to me. I’m not- listen it’s not your fault!” She yelled. “You were just a teenager!”

“Baby- no.” Anakin sounded pained as he spoke.

“I know Ani.” You whispered back. “I know, okay? I’m not gonna talk to her. Not even if she says stupid shit like that. As much as it angers me, I know I’m better off staying quiet.”

“Good girl.” He sighed. “I’ll be home soon okay? Or actually-“

”Obi can we stop at the hardware store?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care. Whichever is open!”

“Christ, alright.”

“I’m getting new locks before I come home.” Anakin declared.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You said quietly, alittle suspicious of the sudden silence from outside.

You crept back up to the window and saw your mother standing next to her car, sitting on the lip of the open trunk. Her hand flailing as she spoke animatedly over the phone. You could physically see her huff out loud just before she got up and slammed the trunk shut, angrily ending the phone call.

“Has everyone lost their fucking mind?” She yelled, pulling out her car keys and walking to the drivers side door to get in and speed away from the house.

“She left.” You breathed out.

“Good.” Anakin sounded relieved. “I’ll be home as soon as I can okay?”

”why don’t I just take you there? I’ll go get the new locks.”

“Are you sure? Well- if… okay! Okay fine, here at least let me give you some cash.”

“Can you hang up so I can yell at you now?”

“You already yelled at me!”

“I’m not done yet!”

“Well you’ll have to wait. Your wife is calling me.”

“Princess-“ he started.

“I know, I heard.” You let out a slight laugh.

“I love you, see you soon.”

“I love you.” You said, hanging up and immediately collapsing on the couch.

You had let all your emotions out or at least you thought you did, by the time Anakin arrived. You ran to the door with dry eyes but the moment you unlocked it and saw him you were drowning in salty tears. He scooped you up and kicked the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into the locked position before carrying you to the couch.

“Shh it’s okay.” He whispered, his lips kissing the top of your head while you clutched onto his shirt.

“What are we gonna do?” You sniffled.

“What we always planned on doing.” He said.

“Serious?” You asked, leaning back to see that he was letting a few tears fall too despite his calm speaking voice.

“Of course I’m serious.” He said, his eyebrows furrowed. “I love you. I’ve always been serious about that.”

“But we just-“

“Look at me.” He said sternly, wiping his cheek with his shoulder. “I love you. I have always loved you. I don’t care if we just got back together, that doesn’t matter to me. I’m just as serious about you as I was before, it didn’t just go away in our time apart.”

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears. He took a grounding breath and kissed your forehead, the outer corner of each eye, and the tip of your nose.

“I would have left at anytime, you know that? Anytime. I just wanted you to be ready.” He said, a hint of something mournful in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Six years later

A new state, a new town, a new house.

A new life.

The moment the divorce was finalized you sold your old home. Using that money to get the hell out of dodge and move to somewhere warm.

Arizona was warm, always warm. You’d never even visited before you chose to live there, neither had Anakin. You wanted somewhere completely fresh, a clean slate for you to write your own story on and gods did you have a good story.

You found a beautiful two bedroom home, absolutely perfect in every way. It was close enough to town but far enough away that you weren’t surrounded by traffic or neighbors. A nice front yard, an ever nicer fenced in back yard. The big floor to ceiling glass windows in the dining room really sold it for you, the natural lighting and the fucking view was outrageous.

There was even a fire pit in the backyard which you decided to christen on your first night there via much too many s’mores. Now it was in regular use, sometimes by just you and Anakin, he did love an evening under the stars. The sky was so clear, unlike any place you’d ever been before, it was almost surreal.

Though as of late it’s been seeing an influx of visitors.

Anakin had his very own garage now, a *six* bay garage at that. He was the local go-to for multiple reasons, the prices, the high quality work, and people love a family owned store. With him as the lead man and you at the front desk, the pair of you were practically unstoppable.

This also meant that Anakin was in control of his work life in a new way. He was able to separate home and work unlike before where it wasn’t ever guaranteed that you’d be left unbothered. No more waking up at the asscrack of dawn to the obnoxious noises of old, no more at-home phone calls, no more blocked driveway, no more late nights.

It meant that he was able to be present for important moments without the worry of distraction. It meant he could cry along with you today.

You both were able to reel it in and contain the tears until the last second. The twins were so unbelievably excited for their first day of school, you both agreed that sobbing the entire way to their classroom would definitely put a damper on their day. So you smiled and skipped down the hall as requested by Leia and Anakin performed Luke’s very long, very intricate, never the same secret handshake at the door.

You gave hugs and kisses and a final goodbye wave, then booked it back out to the car. You almost made it to the foyer before your sniffles turned into cries, when you looked at Anakin for comfort you saw he was already holding his breath in that ridiculously uncomfortable way that he did to stop himself from sobbing.

Thankfully you made it to your vehicle before he passed out from lack of oxygen. It would be a real shame for him to miss this afternoon’s celebratory cookout you were hosting due to a blacktop issued concussion. The other fathers from your first time parents group would be highly disappointed if you ended up in charge of the grill.

“I can’t believe we have 12 more years of this.” Anakin sniffled.

“Seriously? Did you seriously just say that to me right now?” You cried.

“Yeah I did. I just wanted to prepare you for our suffering for the next decade.” He gave you a crooked, tearful grin.

“You’re lucky that I love you.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“Yes I am.”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethir/wall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @angeldarkness95 @guiltycherries @piastricentric @sweetcheesecakesblog @chiaraanatra @espinathena-17

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

341 notes · View notes

vaspider · 2 years

Text

Pete Buttigieg is not the fucking point.

Truly amazed at the people whose big takeaway from that thread is "you hate Pete Buttigieg" like buddy did you not... read... all of it?

I genuinely don't give a shit about Pete himself. If you think this is about Democratic self-devouring or whatever the fuck, please mentally substitute Ellen or George Takei or Rachel Maddow or your favorite Other Respectable Gay. I hear some dude named Rubin is even a conservative who is getting turned on for adopting a baby? I don't know who he is and I don't care (do not tell me, I do not care) but if it makes you feel better, substitute any of those names.

I think the ones that actually make me sad are the people who keep insisting that 70% of people support gay marriage, and that I'm just 'acting out my trauma', and we won't see things turn against us, we're perfectly safe now, how dare I say that cishets won't put themselves out for us when it counts, it's different now.

Honey, 99% of people want tomorrow to go on pretty much like today, and what they'll support when it doesn't cost them anything has nothing to do with what they'll support when it does. Those of us telling you 'we were abandoned before, and we were the ones who took care of us then' aren't telling you because we're incorrigibly bitter misanthropes. I am annoyingly hopeful, actually, and in love with humanity and the beauty of life. Seriously, I have to write poems about it because I love the universe and all of humanity so fucking much. One of the things I love about humanity is its fragility and its uncertainty. I love the ways in which we fail.

And humans, over and over again, turn our eyes away from tragedy.

If you are lucky enough to have cishet friends and family who will put themselves out for you when it really matters, that is fucking fantastic. That's not nearly universal, and I'm afraid that you're going to find out sooner rather than later that it's far less universal for you than you'd like to believe.

At the end of the day, you can believe me or not about all of this. You can say that I'm just a bitter old transfag, an angry old dyke, a traumatized old queer if it lets you sleep better at night, if it allows you to just close your eyes and say 'this is all going to be fine, because 70% of people support marriage equality!' and get some rest. I can't make you pay attention.

And the thing is? I'd love to be wrong. I would absolutely love for every cishet who has ever said "one of them" or said "well, I mean, I just don't want to see it, they can do whatever they want in private" or whatever to turn out to be the raddest fucking ally the world has ever seen. I know it can happen! My in-laws went from being Baptist homophobes to getting weekly chatty update phone calls from the two trans women refugees from Latin America who they housed and helped get their papers sorted and who are now living in New York and call them Mom and Dad. Like, truly, it can fucking happen!

But you can't count on that from the vast majority of people, because when it comes down to it, most people want tomorrow to go on pretty much like today. You're much more likely to be able to count on someone with a dog in the hunt.

More than that, though, the point of that essay -- which, when people miss it, they miss it so hard that it feels deliberate, honestly -- is that all of our bullshit infighting doesn't mean dick. I've been saying that for years, begging people to think inclusively about our community, begging people to stop all the bullshit infighting because I could see this shit fucking coming, you didn't need to be Cassandra to see it coming but sometimes I felt like I was screaming until my throat was horse, the fucking tsunami is coming, it's coming, motherfuckers, can't you see the way the water is pulling back?

And here we are, and all the arguing about whether bi lesbians are "valid" doesn't matter, and everyone's attempt to gatekeep butch and femme doesn't matter, and everyone's arguments about whether neopronouns are bad doesn't fucking matter because we are all just fags, dykes and trannies to them, they do not care for one fucking second about any of this. None of them care for one second about our infighting. No one is going to stop and ask you what your orientation is so they can call you the right slur when they're gaybashing you, kids. They. Don't. Care.

So now here we are, and people are acting like the point of the essay is that I wanted to call one particular dude a fag, rather than that it doesn't matter how perfectly primed you are to fit into Respectable WASP Society, it is your queerness which is objectionable. It is your gayness. It is your transness. It is your bisexuality, your asexuality, your lesbianism. You will never be granted rights and respectability. You have to defend your rights, and stop giving a shit about respectability as a metric of whether or not someone deserves them.

I mean, for fuck's sake, some Iowa voters tried to withdraw their caucus support once they realized that Pete was gay. It literally fucking happened. There's video. Someone they supported above all the other candidates in the Iowa primary was immediately disqualified for them to the point where they tried to retract their support the minute they found out he was gay.

That's the fucking point. I don't care who you use as your Proxy Respectable Gay.

Pete Buttigieg is not the fucking point.

3K notes · View notes

bitterkarella · 12 days

Text

Identifying furries by their fursonas

Fox- this is the default fursona for the default furry, namely a twink with a blown out fucked to death asshole

Vixen- Girl fox referred to as a vixen is an egg, girl fox just referred to as a fox is an out trans woman

Kistune - the same as above but weeb flavor

he-wolf - a greasy guy who weighs 12 pounds soaking wet and wears a fedora. republican.

she-wolf - the butchest bull dyke you ever saw

coyote - manic depressive. always on something. the drug connection at any furry party

Cat- always a woman

black cat - could be any gender but always goth

kitten/kitty - a trans sex worker, has an only fans they really want you to know about.

bobcat - older dude. wants people to think he's ex-military

Jaguar - an older black guy. will probably have the word "black" in his fursona's name

lion - just a huge asshole

tiger - another asshole. old. wants you to believe he's ex military or ex-police, probably a member of the dorsai irregulars. major grill dad vibes

jackal - a huge asshole and a slut. white gay racist, probably transphobic

cougar - either a trans woman or a terf. there's no in between

Horse - white woman who identifies as 2 Spirit or a guy who wants to be stomped on

Pony - gay nazi

unicorn - either the absolute gayest dude you can be or a 9 year old girl. sometimes a late in life transition

Tanuki - latino

badger - either a huge lesbian or an old avuncular straight guy. possible sex pest

Raccoon - nature's greatest mistake. too normie to be furry, too furry to be normie. dilf.

bat - either a goth or a real annoying shit (some overlap). invader zim fanboy. doesn't drink alcohol but claims to act crazy on "sugar highs." definitely has dabbled in webcomics

cow - a woman. maternal. mom friend or mommy dom. milf. possibly trans femme

steer - a big strong fat rough trade gay guy

sheep - mom vibes

pretty much any farm animal - mom vibes

domestic pig - wild card. might be a wet and messy fetish thing tho or a trash eating thing. loves to be stinky. loves to talk about being stinky.

wild pig - trans masc

skunk - either a fat beardy guy who has a tumblr blog about animation squash & stretch or a stoner gal. very straight. the straightest. a kinsey 0. has strong feelings about what the fandom used to be like before there were all these kids in it.

rat - is a huge asshole as a front, probably likes talking cigars

lemur - autistic

sloth - 420 blaze it. will never finish any commissions

chakat - an older cishet man who thinks the fandom is too political & refers to "anime" as "japanimation"

sergel - nazi

citra - the biggest dipshit you've ever met

procyon - furry equivalent of the thomas jefferson miku binder pic. you should not be talking to this person, this is a literal child

weasel - a girl with cluster b personality disorders

ferret - a person who has at least one pet ferret, but probably many

mole - this person thinks they're in a beatrix potter story

guinea pig/chinchilla/jerboa/gerbil/any kind of fat rodent you can keep as a pet - the sweetest person you will ever meet

armadillo/pangolin/anteater/aardvark - smug, contrarian. "i just wanna be different"

mouse - vore fetishist, prey. sub.

hyena - vore fetishist, pred. probably trans masc

otter - a dommy twink, possible enby

bear - gay

panda - absolutely a white person pretending to be asian. probably running a gofund me scam with a suspicious story about how they're a professional nintendo gamer who injured their hand or something

bullfrog - a huge fat hairy straight guy

any other frog - inflation or rubber fetishist

axolotl/newt/salamander - genderfluid enby

rabbit - trad wife trans woman

squirrel - autistic and gay

deer - gay

gazelle - zootopia megafan

monkey - punk DIY artist type, definitely loves weed

ape - absolutely baffling. nothing this person does or says makes any sense. you will be left wondering whether you're speaking to a child, a person with severe mental issues, or someone who doesn't have english as a first language

elephant - mom friend

hippo - a fat fetishist or a transformation fetishist

rhino - an older cishet dude who wants to project a curmudgeonly yet approachable aura

kangaroo - definitely not an australian person. extremely focused kinkster, usually feet or inflation. more STDs than should be possible to carry

koala - an asian woman

virginia opossum - anarchist/communist punk trans man who makes zines and/or comics

australian possum - just here to have fun. wants everyone else to be having fun too. wacky funster. (sugar gliders and flying squirrels fall under this category)

any other marsupial - poser

monotremes - extreme poser, don't even bother

doberman- gay dude who tops from the bottom or a cop (there is some overlap)

german shepherd - a nazi or a cop (there is substantial overlap). definitely a furry raider. he will wear his cop uniform to con and after con will post videos pretending that someone was rude to him

afghan - arch femme

basset hound - racist

puppy - sub, probably an egg. extremely draining. cries a lot

all other dogs - just dudes being bros (gender neutral)

dragon - the furries of furries. like to talk about eating "sammiches" and "chocklit." probably an adult baby lifestyler. they will send DMs that just say "hi." they like to RP and when they contact you about a potential commission they are actually just trying to trick you into RP

griffin - the same as above but also a brony

snake - sissy hypno fetishist

turtle - an old man, probably southern. an ironic grandpa.

other scalies - furry in denial. either a child or an old person from CYD. the world's last something awful goons

any fursona with latino vibes - white

any fursona with asian vibes - latino

any fursona with native american vibes - eastern european

avian - girl who's not like other girls. hippie. vegan.

raven/crow - agender voidgoth

chicken - mom vibes

dinosaur - the absolute biggest nerd. probably has an actual degree in paleontology. definitely dresses like miss frizzle.

any invertebrate - not a real furry, their girlfriend just made them get a furaffinity account before they could get ass. either that or they've never even heard of furry, they just came up with the idea of anthropomorphics from first principles. a biology teacher or weirdo (there is some overlap)

amoeba - this is a troll

#furries #fursonas

120 notes · View notes

spacelazarwolf · 2 years

Text

actually yeah i would like to talk about how other queer people specifically were the reason it took me so long to come out as a gay trans man

(this is really fucking long, but especially if you’re not a trans man or trans masc, i’d like you to read it all the way through.)

as a preface, i’m not a kid. i’m a fully fledged adult who has been in the queer community for about ten years now, both online and offline. most of the queer people i know irl are my age or older. i turn 30 next year. also before you use the words ‘chronically online’, consider the fact that the things people say online are what they actually believe and will take out into the world with them.

anyway.

when i try to talk about transphobia directed at trans men and mascs from within the queer community, or lateral aggression from trans people who are not trans men or trans mascs (this is not just trans women and femmes, this includes any trans people who aren’t trans men or mascs. i have heard some vile shit out of the mouths of other ‘afab’* trans people), people often respond with “but cishets are the real enemy!!! they’re the ones causing all the actual damage and oppression!!!!!” and while i get the sentiment, that is where you’re wrong my friend. the thing causing my oppression isn’t cishets, it’s the cisheteropatriarchy. cishets tend to be the ones that chug that koolaid most readily, but queer people, even other trans people, have gleefully gulped down gallons of the stuff, and that specifically is what made it so difficult for me to accept myself and come out.

*i fucking hate the term ‘afab’ but this post is already so goddamn long

when i first entered the lgbtq community, it was on facebook in the early 2010′s. before that, i’d been stuck in a conservative small town and didn’t even know that not being a girl was an option. so obviously when i encountered a bunch of people that were like me, i was ecstatic and wanted to be a part of their community. because i still thought i was a girl at the time, i was immediately funneled into sapphic spaces. for the most part, they were great and lovely, i just felt left out because i couldn’t relate to the way they talked about their love of women. but i knew i was some sort of fruity, which meant clearly i was just repressing my attraction to women, so i needed to try harder to like women. some of this came from the things i’d heard in those groups, but a lot of it was just pressure from myself to deal with a reality that didn’t make sense.

the longer i spent in those groups, though, the more i ran into rhetoric like ‘men are inherently incapable of love and respect, it is impossible to be in a truly fulfilling relationship with a man’ and ‘masculinity is inherently evil and femininity is inherently good.’ some people tried to have nuance, but a lot, especially cis women, didn’t. in those groups, people were mocked for being in relationships with men, they were told that if they had a boyfriend they weren’t even allowed to mention it in the group because the group needed to be a ‘space completely free of men’, people were told that if they were being abused by a man then it was their fault because they should have been dating a woman instead, they should have known better. i was one of those people who was blamed for my own abuse.

as i started to realize that shit maybe i’m not a girl, there was a lot of pressure for me to make sure that i always stayed within the confines of ‘non man.’ because the second i slid over that line, it was over. i was lost. does that rhetoric sound familiar? it’s terf rhetoric, and the irony is that all of these spaces explicitly condemned terfs.

i was in a group for ‘non men’ and when people in the group came out as trans men, they were asked to leave. the network of groups that this one was connected to was of the mindset that trans men oppressed all nonmen, including cis women. the reasoning given was ‘it would be misgendering!!!!!!!’ but behind closed internet doors, the actual reasons were very clear. on a scale of ‘oppressed’ to ‘privileged’ it went trans women -> cis women -> trans men -> cis men, with nonbinary people being inserted into whatever category was most convenient for argument’s sake.

after that, i stuffed my doubts down for years, terrified of crossing that horrible threshold from ‘nonman’ to ‘man.’ even now, i still cling to the term ‘nonbinary’ because it makes other queer people view me as a more complex person. as soon as i started tentatively using the word ‘man’ to describe myself without all the disclaimers of ‘but don’t worry i’m not actually a man!!!!! i’m still a person!!!!!!!’, the way people interacted with me changed drastically.

i was the exact same person, still non-passing, still gender noncomforming, still someone with a very complex relationship to gender because of my sexuality and being autistic, but because that word ‘man’ was there, suddenly people felt they had the right to silence me and speak over me. cis women who were being blatantly transphobic dismissed me saying ‘i don’t argue with men’, queer people dismissed me saying ‘stop mansplaining’ and telling me that regardless of my presentation, regardless of how i was treated out in the world, i was still privileged because i identified with the label of ‘man.’

i made a video on tik tok about how traumatic it was to come to terms with being a man as someone who has been hurt by cis men, and an old mutual of mine started tagging me in cis men’s videos about unlearning toxic masculinity, telling me i needed to watch myself if i was going to be a man. another mutual also shared in that trauma, and theirs was exacerbated by a racial element. i tried to make more videos about my experiences, documented by journey with top surgery, but as soon as i started speaking loudly about including trans men and mascs in the fight for abortion rights, everything went downhill.

terfs started to find my account and get my videos taken down. queer cis women claimed i was ‘silencing women’ and used the ‘trans man’ in my bio to claim ‘mansplaining’ despite the fact i am nonpassing and the world sees me as a woman. a trans femme stitched one of my videos to chide me for saying that repealing roe v wade affected trans men and mascs, because i should have been talking about how it affected trans women and femmes and the rest of the queer community, not ‘centering men.’ a trans woman commented on their post in my defense, and they deleted her comment. after that, cis women reported by account by the dozens and i was eventually banned.

that’s when i realized, men hadn’t caused me trauma. the cisheteropatriarchy had caused me trauma. the system that had allowed my abusive ex to treat me the way he did, that allowed my friends to watch and say nothing, that allowed a woman who was a bystander in a public domestic violence incident to complain to us that we were ruining her day at the mall and threatening to call the police on both of us rather than standing up for someone who was literally publicly being physically attacked. the system that allowed cis women to say, quite literally, that because trans men and mascs were a numerical minority of the people who would be affected by the repealing of roe v wade that we shouldn’t be in the spotlight, that cis women should be centered, that it was somehow ‘misogyny’ to point out that anti-abortion laws quite literally would affect trans men and mascs more severely and in more ways than cis women.

women and other queer people may not have been the ones hitting me or writing these bills, but for years they were the ones telling me my abuse was my fault, that i was morally incorrect for being a man, that i could never love or be loved if i was a man, that i should sit down and shut up, regardless of how much my community was hurting and dying. that i would always be an afterthought, if even.

i think very often about two tik toks i saw of a trans masc person talking about transition, and one said “you spend the first half of your life being subjugated by the sins of men, then you transition and you spend the rest of your life paying for the sins of men” and the other commented about another user’s video saying “a beard, facial hair, stands in the way of this person being perceived as innocent and being perceived as capable of roofieing your drink.”

and i realized that’s part of why i’m terrified to go on t. completely separate from the fact that i have a career which relies on my voice so going on t would absolutely nuke that, i have already experienced so much aggression and isolation based on just identifying as a man. i cannot even begin to imagine how much worse it would get if i started to look ‘like a man.’ i have lamented the fact that i’m forced to lose my softness, whether i want to or not, that the very community that wants to break down barriers and liberate people are the ones who are forcing me into a box for the sake of convenience in online arguments.

and people can mock me and go on about ‘toxic masculinity’ all they want, but this is a hard truth about the community that we really need to start talking about, because i have absolutely no doubt that experiences like mine are what contributes to trans men and masc’s astronomically high rates of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, etc.

i feel more like myself than i ever have in my life. and i also feel more isolated than i ever have in my life. there was a moment where things finally clicked for me, and for a fraction of a second i was so excited. i wanted to share my revelation with my community and be celebrated. but then i thought back about the way people had talked about men, trans men, masculinity, loving men, and that little tiny moment of celebration was brought to a screeching halt. i realized that every other time i’d seen a gay trans man or masc come out and talk about their gender and sexuality, the responses had been peppered with ‘sorry for ur loss’, ‘ew lol’, ‘so u chose to become a man?????’, ‘omg u have to date men and be a man????? i feel sorry for u lmao.’

and now as i delve into the dating pool as a gay trans man, i see that all this online bullshit isn’t just ‘chronically online,’ it’s manifested in real life too. the way queer trans men and mascs are treated as entitled for wanting to date cis queer men, the way people respond if we say we’re unhappy with just being a hookup or a fling because we should be happy anyone wanted us in the first place. the way we’re treated as fetishizers and freaks, the way people specifically search through the ‘ftm’ tag on grindr looking for ‘sissy boys/femme bottoms/etc’ then get angry when you don’t respond to them. the way other queer people respond to you when you try to talk about this. the way trans men and mascs who can’t go on t are treated as less than men but also aren’t allowed to talk about their experience of someone perceived as ‘less than men’, the way testosterone is spoken about in queer communities as a poison, as something that makes you ugly and disfigured and gross and dirty when for so many of us it’s literally lifesaving medical treatment. the way we can’t talk about the things we go through without random cis people dragging trans women and femmes into it when, even though there are some concerning trends of lateral violence that need to be discussed, most of the aggression comes from cis queer women.

so when trans men make posts or host events or just do anything to celebrate trans manhood and masculinity, and your first reaction is to make fun of us, project your frustration with the cisheteropatriarchy, or respond with “we don’t need positivity for men”, i want you to think about the number of trans men and mascs who kill ourselves, and i want you to think “maybe i should not say this, maybe i should just do this one thing to make life a little easier for them, even if i don’t get it.”

#trans #transgender #trans man #trans masc #queer #trans community #queer community #lgbtq #transphobia #transandrophobia #transmisandry #antimasculism #it does not fucking matter what we call it #what matters is that it's killing us and y'all don't want to acknowledge it

2K notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 3 months

Note

I read your newsletter about "transmisandry" today. I'm a trans man and I generally agree with what you said. However, I was wondering how you would classify a particular experience of mine and other trans men I know irl or have seen online.

In short, I find that in some queer spaces, masculine and/or "binary" (meaning, not non-binary) trans men are treated as outsiders and enemies. I imagine some straight-passing queer cis men experience similar.

This prejudice against masculinity has nothing to do with us being trans, and is in no way oppressive, but it seems to me that some people have a hatred/disgust/discomfort/etc. with masculine men, especially if we are proud of our manhood. I sometimes feel excluded in queer or progressive spaces, and like I have to change myself to fit into others' idea of "acceptable" manhood.

I think this tends to emotionally affect trans men in particular because being a man is generally hard-won and joyful for us. Have you experienced prejudice in queer spaces, especially trans spaces, for being transmasculine? And while I don't believe there exists systemic misandry, is this not a form of misandry, just interpersonal?

Thanks, I really appreciate your work.

Hi there, thank you for great question. What you are describing is certainly a very real and troubling dynamic within both queer and feminist spaces, and it's put me off for a very long time. I have sometimes referred to this as "playful 'misandry' feminism", always with "misandry" in quotes because, as we've already established, it's not a real locus of systemic oppression. I have also sometimes in the past likened it to "Men's Tears Coffee Mug" feminism in its performative, self-congratulatory, typically white feminist stance.*

*in the Koa Beck sense of the term. Someone who is not white can be a white feminist.

I was always put off by performative man-hating jokes and the exclusion of men within feminist spaces because, well, I was one, and because it nearly always played out in transmisogynistic ways that were transparent to me, and because I was a major ride-or-die for men who were victims of sexual violence yet were frequently excluded from survivors' spaces (again, because I was one, even before I realized that I was).

There are a lot of troubling effects that happen when feminist women make a big performance out of finding all men to be disgusting and evil and frequently express disinterest in men's feelings or suffering (which used to be way more common in my estimation, around the early 2010's or so it seemed to peak). I was driven away from feminist spaces as a young closeted trans man because I could see such spaces were not for me or for any of the other men that I cared about and needed support. On the inverse side of things, I have spoken to many trans men who said that "playful "misandry"" feminism actively made it harder for them to realize that they were guys. Men were seen as the enemy and inherently evil and destructive and so they felt absolutely disgusting about the possibility of being a man, or feared transitioning would get them seen as a betrayer of the feminist movement.

As you rightly note, it is not just trans guys who get excluded by such dynamics. Cis men who are genuinely avowed feminists can be driven away by such forces, which is especially upsetting in the case of sexual assault survivors and queer men. Trans women and TMA enbies are excluded from feminist and women's spaces because they supposedly "look like" men to these types, and their own feelings of superficial safety rank above the actual data on who is the most at risk structurally (which is trans women). Butches are regarded in some spaces as too aggressive or unacceptably masculine because of it. And people's analysis of gender oppression just overall sucks when they buy into "playful misandry" style feminism because they go around saying shit like "femme people are oppressed by masc folks." what the hell does that mean. Does a cis, gender conforming feminine woman have less structural power than a butch lesbian? I don't think so.

It seems to me that the big problem here is that "playful misandry" feminism is rooted in a deep deep misunderstanding of the structural nature of oppression. Sexism isn't caused by patriarchy and capitalism, it's caused by "men" and so hating men and excluding them is what will fix things. Men as individuals are responsible for sexism and so women should be as detached from them and unsupportive of them as possible. This logic leads to a TERFy place really quickly, and yes, it also really really damages trans men.

My opinion is that it's best to critique this problem as the political failure that it is: a misunderstanding of sexism as individualistic rather than systemic. That's the core issue from which all the problems flow -- from rampant transmisogyny to the exclusion of cis male sexual assault survivors to the feelings of alienation of trans men. Yes sometimes naming the performative nature of "man hating" jokes and the like is helpful because people recognize instantly what that dynamic is when they hear it. But the "misandry" itself is not the core problem -- it's the shitty gender politics and white feminism.

Does that make sense? To be clear, I think it's something trans men get to talk about. I talk about it from my positionality quite a lot really. I don't think "misandry" is ultimately the helpful or clarifying way to name it, but I will sometimes throw around that term with a TON of qualifiers if I'm discussing the specific interpersonal dynamic of women saying that men are evil rapists innately or whatever. But really discussing the broader gender politics failure that leads to those little shitty comments and looks is almost always more helpful. If trans guys and cis guys are feeling excluded from a space due to these dynamics it's almost always the case that trans women, TMA enbies, butch women, and lots of women of color are too.

113 notes · View notes

beanghostprincess · 3 months

Note

I just thought of this so you have to, too.

Buggy being genderfluid but the Roger crew not really giving a flying fuck about it. Who cares how you dress so long as you're still you? Yeah, sure, go apeshit, just be loyal, strong, etc. You're one of Us and your pants or lack thereof doesn't impact that.

The crew disbands.

Shanks and Buggy get smth of a culture shock once they are no longer in that protective bubble. Buggy is getting hateful looks, comments, snide remarks. Shanks is at his side, completely taken aback and honestly pretty pissed. Buggy, on more Femme days, faces more animosity, misogyny, and it's astounding to the former apprentices who different men and women are treated. And if you can't tell by a glance, people can get so upset?? What the hell????

Buggy refuses to be anything but themself/himself/herself, depending on the day and vibe. Shanks refuses to comply with this newfound social expectation to be rude and mean for no reason to innocent people.

The Grandline is the most progressive of the seas, due in part to the natural insanity it breeds. The Blues aren't as open, but the East is the more chill of the four. Buggy chooses there for many reasons, but the Big Top and crew is open to any sea. There's an information network, smuggling division, crowdsourcing area, etc.

Shanks will drop tips at places he visits for Buggy to get a foothold if they don't already exist, and Buggy will drop tips for Shanks regarding pertinent information for adventures, expectations, and etiquette.

It's a good dynamic. They go for years like this.

Buggy's stint in Impel Down was.... not fun. Aside from the misgendering, general torture and absolutely overwhelming energy there, it was stifling.

Marineford was a hot mess, but by the end, Shanks offers Buggy a ride to the Big Top's docked location, and on board, he just leads Buggy to this little chest in his cabin. Says, "here, take your pick. You wear whatever is most comfortable for you." There's a dress or two, a few skirts, tops, pants, shirts, and while most of it is in different sizes, there's belts and loops. Buggy bites back tears when they find their old skirt. They'd left that one on the Oro. How did Shanks even get this??

The time skip goes down, and by the time Cross Guild is running, Buggy has had to decide between masquerading as a Cis person or just... being themself. One morning, they wake up and everything feels too TIGHT, too STIFF, too much and she's left eying her leotard, half skirt and thigh highs.

...

Well. If she dies, might as well die authentic.

Crocodile and Mihawk nearly do a spit take when she struts out of her tent or into the announcement hall. She is a bit nervous by this, but she has COMMITTED.

It... also helps that so many of her men are singing her praises and Ritchie is bouncing happily, Mohji and Cabaji are smiling, Alvida is giving an approving nod-

She's happy. She's not going to let fear rule her, even if she can feel the gazes of two very powerful men tracking her every breath.

((They're not mad, they're fighting every urge to swoop her into a kiss and maybe more, but also the fact that WHO GAVE THE CLOWN THE RIGHT TO BE SO HOT??? IT WAS BAD ENOUGH BEFORE, NOW THIS????? they're not good at flirting, they cannot HANDLE this-))

I adore this. Buggy being genderfluid is actually so important to me as a genderfluid person-- My beloved. The concept of cold reality suddenly hitting them both (because they were so, so supportive back at the Oro Jackson) when the crew disbands is so good. Shanks is extremely protective of them when that happens, refusing to let anybody talk shit about Buggy. It's just so sweet of him. Tbh, it hurts so much to think about Buggy having to hide that part of himself,,, But then they come out to Mihawk and Crocodile and it's not only that they support them but they also absolutely love them. These two men are having a whole crisis over a clown again (as usual). But yeah, it's actually really sweet to see Buggy finally being free with them in that way,, Thinking thoughts about Crocodile going full mafioso with money and buying Buggy all the clothes she wants (he does it more for himself and Mihawk but yeah).

#genderfluid buggy is so dear to me #i love her sm #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile

93 notes · View notes

obsessive-disfuntion · 9 days

Text

Gun-Slinging and Impressing the Literal Devil

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are rather… loud.”

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

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

“Shit,” you whisper, absolutely dumbfounded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…What?

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

Why did you say that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah, sure. I believe ya.”

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

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

“Y/N… I really don’t think-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snicker behind your hand. You really liked him…

“I’m not stayin’ here too long…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, you are…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I thought.”

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

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

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

“Fucking shit, Lucifer!”

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

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

“You, you… please-“

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

“Shut your trap…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatta ya say, darlin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?”

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

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

“You do like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

“You ready, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

“Oh- oh…! Lu-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just for you, baby.”

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

“Just for me?”

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

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

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

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

“Ah! Lucifer, I’m close, are-“

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so good, love…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you can.”

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

Taglist: @heavenlyraindrops

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin x reader #cowboy au #western au #rosie hazbin hotel

87 notes · View notes

sashaisready · 5 months

Text

Chapter Seventeen - We’re going on a little ride

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

You saw the engine start up to leave and you broke into a sprint as you shot across the street before they could pull away (but made sure to check for traffic this time).

You whipped yourself in front of it, banging on the hood and yelling at the tinted windshield.

“Hey!! Hey! Come out right NOW” you practically screamed. “Get your chicken shit asses out here and talk to me”.

You knew you shouldn’t speak to the terrifying mob goons like that but any worries you had were drowned by your anger, and fear for Peter’s safety. Besides, you knew most of them by now.

The door zipped open and you were surprised to see Bucky of all people step out, flanked by Steve.

He watched you carefully as he emerged. He was in one of his suits but the jacket was gone, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His vibranium arm glinted under the light of the street lamp.

“Don’t hit the car like that, Doll. The paintwork is very delicate”.

“Doing your own dirty work for a change, huh?” you spat.

Bucky chuckled as he stepped towards you. “You have a good night, Doll?” he asked, condescension dripping from him.

“Don’t fucking touch him” you spat as you pointed a warning finger at him and then to Steve. “He’s a good man. Don’t drag him into this”.

Bucky shrugged casually, shaking his head as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“We wouldn’t hurt Mr. Quill, would we Steve?” Bucky said dubiously.

“Of course. Not our good friend, Peter” Steve replied in a monotone.

Your stomach lurched. Of course they had his full name. They probably already had his driving license and tax records on file.

“Bucky, please…” you pleaded.

He watched you attentively as you took a step towards him.

“We both just agreed to be just friends as neither of us felt a connection. Don’t hurt him. There’s nothing there” you explained calmly, trying to sound tougher than you felt.

Bucky smiled thinly. “I’m not a monster, Doll. I don’t just go around hurting people, despite what you may think. But I have to say, this is quite an impassioned defence of someone you’re ‘just friends’ with” he said sardonically, using finger quotes for your words.

Your panic gives way to anger again, his smug smirk a catalyst for your rage. The wine in your bloodstream certainly not helping your rational brain or negotiation skills in the moment.

“Well he is just my friend, alright? Not that I need to justify myself to you of all people...I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. I don’t know what sort of fucked up show you’re running here. I certainly can’t seem to get away from it, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and let innocent people get caught up in it too” you shout, practically spitting with rage.

Bucky sighs. “Doll…”

You raise a hand to silence him.

“No. You wanted to talk? Let’s talk. Steve, you can listen too if you want as James can’t seem to go ten feet without his guard dog. The fact is, I have no idea what your game is. I liked you a lot. Alright? I used to enjoy our little back and forth. Whatever it was. It was fun. And then we fucked and you treated me like a leper, cancelling our date and parading ANOTHER WOMAN in front of me days later at my own fucking workplace. Laughing at me. Watching me get upset and revelling in it. And then you send me eight million balloons and have your goons follow me. And I nearly get hit by a car trying to chase them off. And I meet a new guy. A nice guy who actually liked me who doesn’t treat me like a toy, or a cat playing with a mouse. And I can’t even enjoy that because I’m followed everywhere I go. And I tell you to leave me alone but you ignore me, just dig up information on my date and wait for me outside my house and have the gall to smirk at me like I’m crazy…”

You find yourself short of breath, the venom of your monologue catching you off guard. Your blood turns to ice as the reality of what you’ve said hits you, nervous he’ll lose it at you.

Bucky just stares back at you, unreadable as always. You briefly wonder if you’ve finally pushed him too far and you’re going to end up buried in the cement under a new apartment complex. Your stare snaps to Steve who also just returns your gaze, equally impenetrable. Bucky’s eyes briefly betray a slither of hurt too, and even though everything you’ve said is justified you can’t help but almost feel a pang of longing for him.

Bucky looks you up and down, your words ringing in his ears as guilt begins to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry” he says forlornly.

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Neither of you saw that coming.

“I know I treated you badly after our night together, Doll. It was stupid. I lost my head a bit, thinking you weren’t into me. So I played a game, I thought it was going to be an extension of our banter and I misjudged it. And then I was too stubborn to apologise”.

He sounds quiet and subdued, a far cry from his usual self.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. “Oh…well. Thank-you. I appreciate that” you reply softly.

He approaches you and his hand glides into your hair, his fingers stroking the side of your head as he gazes at you. You find yourself letting him touch you, moving closer to him, entranced by his sea blue eyes as he continues.

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I genuinely didn’t mean to. I feel crazy around you, if I’m honest. Like I can’t keep my shit together. And it just feels like every time I try and fix it I just make it worse”.

You soften as you stroke his metal hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Your faces are so close together that you can make out every mole and freckle on his cheek.

“All you had to do was say that” you tell him softly.

Steve takes that cue to disappear back into the car, giving you both some privacy.

Bucky smiles, his flesh hand moving to your chin and caressing it softly.

“I think about our night all the time” he admits.

“Me too...” you admit, your eyes glazed with lust.

“I know I’ve got a lot of making up to do” he tells you, and you smile back at him.

“You really do” you smirk.

His lips crash into yours and you’re momentarily breathless as you allow yourself to be lost in the kiss. Every sensation from the last time comes flooding back as his tongue slips into your mouth and your fingers find their way into his hair. It’s so good. It’s perfect. It’s everything you want.

He pulls away briefly and rests his forehead against yours.

“Quill will be fine” he whispers. “He’s just going to get roughed up a tiny bit. Just to send a message. But he’ll be alright” he says soothingly.

You gasp, unable to comprehend his casual tone with the horror of what he's saying as you place your hands on his chest and shove him firmly away from you.

“What? Why?? He didn’t do anything!” You splutter furiously.

“I just need to be sure he understands that you’re just ‘friends’” he replies calmly. “And that my men see that he’s been dealt with. They know who you are to me. They can’t work for me with respect knowing I let another man take you out”.

You scoff, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of what he’s telling you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you practically scream at him. “I’m not like your fucking car that he scratched. We aren’t even together” you sneer, waving your fingers between the two of you.

Bucky shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Messages need to be sent” he said coolly as his hands moved down to your hips. “Like I said, we’ll go easy on him, you don’t have to worry”.

You gasp in horror as you shake yourself away from his grip. Suddenly all of your rage and upset comes flooding back, the kiss long forgotten.

Every instinct tells you to flee. To get the hell out of there, away from this monster - away from the man who talks about beating people so casually that you’d think he was reciting a lunch order.

But you think of Peter. And he’s the most important person to think about right now so you can’t run. You couldn’t live with yourself if he got hurt. You need to make sure he’s safe. And to do that you need to speak Bucky’s language.

“Listen” you tell him firmly, your eyes blazing. “If anything happens to Peter. Anything at all. I will never speak to or acknowledge you again. And I mean that. I will quit the bakery and move my ass to a different state just to get away from you. You understand me?” you warn him. "Maybe even leave the east coast altogether".

He blinks at you, surprised by your outburst. You take his silence as your cue to continue.

“And I will spend the rest of my days trying to bringing your down. Police. Feds. Anyone. I mean it. I’ll just keep going until I find someone not in your pocket. You hear me?”

Your mouth is dry and you’re trembling but you’ve said it now. You just hope it’s enough, that it sticks.

After a beat of silence which seems to stretch on forever, he replies.

“You done?” Bucky questions, deadpan.

“Almost. Keep the fuck away from me, you fuckin’ sociopath” you snarl.

Bucky laughs. “Always the fiery one, aren’t you Doll? Alright. I won’t touch Quill. I promise. Scout’s honour. And I’ll leave you alone like you want. That’s no problem”.

You nod, surprised he acquiesced and expecting more of a fight.

He takes a step towards you and suddenly his eyes seem darker. You step away from him instinctively.

“But Doll, trust me when I say this…” he says with a quiet intensity which chills you. “If I ever hear that you’re going to the police about me...or the feds...I won’t be half as agreeable as I am right now”.

He cups your chin and squeezes your cheeks together in his metal hand as you feel your legs nearly give way from under you. His grip isn’t hard, but you feel the impact of his threat. He places a small kiss on your lips before releasing you and heading back to the car.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work, Doll” he grins darkly.

The door slams and the car pulls away a second later. You’re left standing alone in the road, distant noises of the city gradually filling your ears as you catch your breath. You briefly fall to your knees, rubbing your fingers across the tarmac of the road in an attempt to ground yourself.

You finally stand again, exhaling. Peter is safe. You are safe. It will all be alright. You can make a new start. He won’t be bothering you now. You’ll be okay.

As you stumble towards your apartment you’re so worked up that you don’t even notice the scurrying footsteps emerging from behind you. Seconds later it all goes dark and you realise to your horror that someone has put a bag or a sack or something made of material over your head. The fibres scratch uncomfortably against your skin.

You try to scream but a firm hand clamps over your mouth and you find yourself pushed along by strong arms. You hear a car door opening as hushed voices chatter. You’re thrown inside a vehicle, crashing against the floor of either a van or a truck as you hear the echo of the engine rumbling beneath you. You try to scramble up onto your knees but someone grabs your hands, a zip tie is sealed around your wrists and suddenly you’re helpless. You desperately try to vault yourself up onto your knees again but a gruff voice you don’t recognise speaks and you stop in your tracks.

“Just stay right there, princess” the stranger tells you. “We’re going on a little ride. And you’re gonna wanna sit tight for it”.

You go to protest but feel something hard and metal pushes into the small of your back. Despite never feeling one before, you know immediately that it’s the barrel of a gun.

Finally you stay still as you feel your fear build, laying on the floor of the vehicle, waiting patiently for your next instruction.

Bucky’s head is in his hands as Steve drives them back to the house.

“Just had to double down on Quill, huh?” Steve asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Steve..” Bucky warns.

“Had her in the palm of your hand...after all this time and all that scheming…and you threw it away because you couldn’t resist a beating…”

“Steve…I swear to God…”

“Jussayin’. How can you literally be kissing her one moment and have her threatening to rat you out to the feds on you the next? That’s impressive”.

Bucky ignores Steve and sighs. He’s angry at you, fuming even – especially at your threat to rat him out. Not that you know a lot anyway, he has purposefully kept his world separate from you – but still, you’d been inside his home, you know nearly all of his men by name or at least by face. He was sure you still had at least some of the cash he’d given you, and it was possible a couple of the serial numbers could be linked to a job or two…

You didn’t have enough to take him down, not with his ironclad business fronts and hotshot lawyers – but you potentially had enough to make his life more difficult than he’d like.

But he knew Steve was right. He was so close to winning you round, and he blew it. He saw red when he’d seen you kissing Quill, lost his head for a second. This was how he dealt with things, it’s what he knew. Even if you and Quill had agreed to just be friends like you said, it had sent a barrel of rage through him that someone else had touched you. Had felt your lips against theirs.

Even though he knew it was all his own fault.

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

93 notes · View notes

softbutchthatlovesyou · 3 months

Note

This might sound defensive but if you're attracted to a 100% binary trans man as a woman then that's straight regardless of what you say, because trans men are men full stop, maybe it's unintentional for you but there's a lot of trans men aren't really men or are women-lite shit going around, reanalyze yourself and your transphobia because that's straight up awful shit and I'm so sick of seeing this being spread around it's fucking conversion therapy shit disguised as something positive reanalyze why you want trans men to be with lesbians so badly when lesbians traditionally mean and is understood by wide society to be women liking women, like actually sit and think about that, maybe it's hard to admit that it's offense but good fucking god

You seem to be under the assumption that I am forcing the tran men who identify as Lesbians to be not fully men or women lite and you are very wrong?? I do not see a trans man as any less of a man for being a Lesbian. He is a Man and A Lesbian. They are both true. They are not conflicting labels just because of societies perceptions of a word that was forcefully adjusted after Lesbian separatism.

Yow however are the one assigning those people a sexuality based on how you see their relationships. Is a woman supposed to break up or change her entire sexuality because her partner came out and she didn't stop being attracted to him? What if she still primarily dates women after they breakup for unrelated reasons? Does she earn being a Lesbian back? Or maybe consider how many trans men are butches in the community who are Men and Lesbians and their femmes love them and are no less lesbian to any of their peers. What about those who are firmly Trans men and Trans Women at the same time? Do they stop being a lesbian on "Man days"? Do they earn it back on women days? You know, to make sure on "man days" they aren't viewed as Womenlite for being a lesbian by their own choice. Where's the line anon?

It sounds defensive because it is. You are not reading a word I've said about any of this and are shoving shit I don't believe into my inbox under the guise that you think I condone any of what the fuck you iust said.

I am a man and spend half my time fighting to be seen properly as one against transphobic Lesbians who insist I have to be a Girl Butch otherwise they have the right to dictate who I can date. I fucking know more than enough about people who want to change my gender to fit their transphobic views. I spend an entire portion of my blog fighting about transmasculine rights if you bothered to look around before you sent this accusatory ask.

Some Trans Men are Lesbians because THEY WANT TO BE. When I talk about Lesbian Trans Men I am talking about ME and THEM. If you cannot understand that then you are not having the same conversation as me.

Also the fucking Lesbiphobia of revoking someones right to be a Lesbian because you don't see it that way is disgusting. Who the fuck are you to think it's okay to tell somone they aren't who they say they are? we got a council that can kick us out of our little clubs since that's how you wanna treat these identities?

#this makes me nauseous to read #to tell me i see any of my fellow trans men not as men because i respect the ones who are lesbians????#and to think YOU have the right to tell them how they can identify??#transandrophobia #Lesbiphobia #im so fucking tired read what i said or just dont bother to send an ask #gideons talking time #inbox #anon #arlright i guess i need a discourse tag now if yall are gonna be clowns #ill block anything malicious #but im not letting blatant misinformation about what i said go around #so uh #Fungus.txt

29 notes · View notes

nightmaree-eyess · 9 months

Text

Orange is the last of us pt 2

Tlou fic based on oitnb

Summary: after abby got released from prison your resentment builds

Tags: prison au, femme reader, y/n, angst

Word count: 1702

Pt 1:

Divider @cafekitsune

Weeks and weeks go by and the letters keep coming in from abby. You can't bring yourself to read them. Maybe you do hold grudges after all. When you look at the envelopes all you can think is she got to walk free and you're still stuck in this piece of shit with stale air that lingers and agony oozing from the walls. It's not fair but that's life. You wouldn't wish her to come back to the personification of hell though. You wouldn't wish prison on your worst enemy. A part of you wants to read the letters she sends though. Gross curiosity about how she's doing. They taunt you.

“y/n mails here” a guard hands you an envelope and it's another letter from abby. This time instead of shoving it in the endless pile in your cabinet you bring it to the cafeteria at dinner to ask Ellie about it. They have history too and maybe she'll give you some advice.

***************

“If i can guess what the letter says it probably says *speaking in deep voice* hey babe miss you now lemme eat your pussy” ellie makes a v with her fingers and brings it to her mouth to make a crude gesture

“I’m fucking serious ellie. I don't know what to do. I want to know if shes ok but i also dont give a fuck.” you groan

“Well which feeling is stronger? Your love or your resentment?”

And with that question you knew what you had to do

****************

Later that night you end up reading the letter she sent. You take a deep breath to settle your nerves. Your hands are shaking as you take the letter out from the envelope.

Dear y/n,

You probably aren't opening these or if you are, i'm sure you don't really want to hear what i have to say. I doubt if th tables were turned that i would be reading this, but on the off chance that you are still reading, i want to try and explain myself which is difficult in a letter and would be so much easier face to face (even though im terrified that theyll lock me up if i step foot in there) i know that the situation in chicago seems fucked, but i promise i was protecting you.

There was a lot going on that I wasn't able to talk to you about and if I had had even a moment alone with you before the trial, I swear I would have been completely open and honest.

The last thing I want after everything we have been through is for you to feel lied to, or used in any way y/n, i promise.

I love you,

Abby xoxo

You sit there with your mouth agape.She wants to meet in person? What else can she even say? The next morning you ask your counsellor to add Abby to your visitors list. You wanna hear what she has to say. But you also miss having her in the same room as you. You miss sneaking touches under the table and kisses at night. You even miss your mundane conversations. She has a way of making you soft.

Couple days later you call Abby to arrange a Sunday for her to come up and see you. You're nervous but also excited to see her again.

****************

That sunday you walk into the visitation room and there she is, sitting at the middle table and she catches your eye. You see a sparkle that wasn't there before and you're happy for her as much as you don't want to be. You give her a quick hug (which got you yelled at) and you sit across from her. Shes wearing that grey sweater that makes her muscles look so fucking good. It's your favorite sweater she owns.

“This is totally weird but, i'm in the wrong outfit”

“I like your sweater.” you reach out to touch her buff arms to just feel that she's real

“Its soft…like your resolve when you're offered a plea deal” you snided

“It came down at the very last minute, y/n. Abby sighed “And they promised me it would put Kubo away for good.”

“But it made me a perjurer and you a free woman.”

“I thought you were gonna tell the truth!” abby yelled

“And I thought you were gonna lie!” you yelled back

“What are we in a fucking novel or something?” Abby said this made you both chuckle.

“It's good to see your face”

You shake your head “I don't know what to say.”

“You have every right to be angry.” abby sits back in her chair and crosses her arms

“I don't know if I'm angry. I'm confused…by you.”

Abby chuckles “I'm confused by me, too. I'm pretty much the master of handling things completely wrong.”

“Well that's an understatement” you say flatly

“Im a fuck-up. And now i get to be a fuck-up in a shithole apartment in Queens. Too afraid to even open my curtains.” abby looks around the room and whispers

“I sleep with a gun.”

“You what?! Abby , what the hell? You're on probation.”

“There is a van parked outside my apartment everyday. He's trying to scare me. I wanna go out there with a baseball bat and smash the fucking windows in.” abby looks scared and defeated

“I should honestly start dealing again”

You look at her in disbelief

“Find a bigger, tougher new kingpin who can beat up my old kingpin”

“That's not funny” you say worryingly

“It's not a joke. What am I qualified to do? Huh? I have…I have no job. I'm scared shitless to leave my apartment. I got so used to sleeping with the lights on that I'm freaked out by the dark. My probation officer, Robert Hill, is a fucking joke. Bobby fucking Hill is my probation officer.” you guys both laugh

“King of the hill?”

“King of sitting on his fat fucking ass eating Little Debbies, hoping to bust me for some stupid infraction.” abby sighs and looks down at the table

“You'd think that part of his job would be to protect his probbies, you know?...Nobody gives a shit about ex-cons.” abby said defeated

“What are you gonna do?”

Abby sighs and presses her lips together “i'm skipping town”

“You can't”

“I don't have a choice. These people know where I live. That's why I wanted to see you. When I go, I can't come back. I have to disappear.”

You feel a sting hit the back of your eyes and everything sounds muffled.

“You- you can't leave me.” you say desperately

“y/n, i'm in danger i have no choice”

“But i dont have anyone left…”

We stare at each other, wishing it didn't have to be this way.

“I'm sorry y/n. I'm sorry for all of it. I know my track record id shit…but I really do love you.”

“Yeah well, I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

You look down at the table to hide your tears ``no… no i don't.”

“Visiting hours are over!” a guard yells and when you get up to leave you look at her one last time because you might never be able to again.

***************

For the rest of the day you worry for abby. She can't be serious right? Skipping town is not the best idea but is it the only way to keep her away from Kubo and his minions? You have an idea to keep Abby from danger but it involves calling your ex fiance who slept with your best friend. He could have slept with anyone but he chose your best friend. Asshole. But he owes you at least this favor to make up for it. You would've said you were even and let it go if he didnt sleep with your best friend.

“Hey y/n” Barry picks up the phone

“Hey are you alone right now?”

“No im with holly and you're on speaker phone” holly says hi

“Ugh great, I need a favour.”

“Depends on what it is”

“I need you to call abby's parole officer and tell him shes breaking her parole”

“Why would I do that?”

“I giving you a chance to fuck over someone you hate.”

There's silence on the other end

“Fine if you won't do it holly will you?”

“Sure whats the name of her parole officer”

“Robert Hill. He works for the DOC in Queens.”

You hang up the phone cause you really dont wanna be talking to them longer than you have to. At least the plan is in motion. It might seem a little selfish and you feel a tinge of guilt but with this plan at least you know she'll be safe. You can't let her skip town, start dealing again, or have Kubo find her. So you decide to be selfish. You wish it didn't come down to this. No one deserves to be in this cease pool, especially abby. You'll be taking this to your grave.

****************

You're working outside today setting up for a mothers day event and the sunshine feels good on your face. The closest to freedom you have.

“Your little girlfriend is back” ellie says to me teasing

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“Yeah I saw her walking to her bunk from the intake. She looks beat up”

“I-I gotta go see her!” you start to walk away

“Inmate, get back here! You can't leave during work!” a guard yells and I slowly walk back with my hands up in surrender.

“You'll see her around. It's not like she's going anywhere.” ellie said

*************

After work you go back to your bunk and see that the bed is finally occupied. Could this be Abby's stuff? That has to be a coincidence right? Many girls get processed through here everyday. What are the odds this is her stuff?

“We gotta stop meeting like this” a voice behind you says.

It's Abby. Fucking. Anderson.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #abby tlou #abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #prison au #fanfic #orange is the new black au #fanfiction #abby fanfiction #tlou fic #abby the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #angst #part 2

104 notes · View notes

starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

thinking abt Eddie teaching us how to play dnd. private lessons to start since the campaigns for the hellfire club are serious business but thinking about the way he scoots his chair closer to us so that our thighs touch. reaching for the die at the dice at the same time and our fingers brush and his cheeks and ears turning pink as he clears his throat and continues on with his lesson like neither of us are on fire for one another. i love him. eddie brainrot.

Roll for Initiative

My love, your mind!!!!!! Incredible concept, 10000/10, no notes. Thank you so much for sharing this with me 💖 likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰

Eddie Munson x Femme! Reader

Requests are open!

Warnings: Language, my D&D knowledge is severely lacking, it's a little horny but SFW, only around 600 words, mostly just angst (but I could be convinced to write a second part if people are interested 🥺)

He's usually better than this.

Nobody has thrown him off his game before—Eddie's got a whole arsenal of moves when he wants to pull (normally starting and ending with "hey, you wanna smoke?")—but you've got him bumbling and shaking, stuttering over his words like a fucking virgin on prom night.

And it's not just because you're pretty—although you are. Chewing on your bottom lip, looking wide-eyed down at the table, then glancing up at him through your lashes. It's not just because you're smart, or nice to him, or willing to listen when he rambles about his new campaign, or really, really fucking pretty.

It's not.

"So now I . . ." you glance at him, hand hovering over the little pile of dice in front of you on his kitchen counter.

He clears his throat. "Uh, roll for initiative."

"Right, and that's with the . . ."

"The D20." He reaches for it because it's easier than staring at you, something to think about besides how close he is and how easy it should be for him to slip an arm around the back of your chair.

But you're doing the same, and when the tips of your fingers brush against his own, he's got the electric spark in his bones—like it's actually painful for him to touch you and not in the way he wants—until he has to jump away.

Fuck. The dice scatter, chittering off the table and onto the floor, landing among the crumbs and the few wrappers he couldn't toss in the trash before your arrival.

"God, shit, I'm sorry," he has to laugh because otherwise he'll get up and run, just bolt from the fucking table and this mess and the stupid part of him that ever thought it would be a good idea to try and spend any time alone with you.

You just smile, and you're touching him again, hand resting lightly on his upper arm this time. He wishes he'd changed out of his hellfire shirt before this so he could feel your skin against his and not through his stupid sleeve.

"Don't worry about it, I got it."

Then he watches you slip to your knees—skirt riding up around your thighs as it clings to the seat—before you dive under the table.

God, his eyes actually roll back in his head, craning his neck to peer at you on your hands and knees, his own sweaty palms clinging to his denim-covered legs.

There's the swell of your ass—better than it's ever looked in his imagination—and he wonders what you'd do if he reached out, cupping your warm flesh of your thigh and sliding higher, his fingers just slipping under the edge of the pretty pink silk that covers the rest of you.

He thinks about joining you under the table, wonders if the cheap poly-laminate shelter would make him brave, and he'd be able to take your face in his palms and say something that would impress you, something that sounded clever and funny because he loves the way his lungs burn whenever he manages to make you laugh.

Maybe you'd let him kiss you.

It's stupid. And phony. Just another fantasy—sitting here and staring at the game board full of elves and wizards and dire wolves, just as real as any world where you'd actually think about going out with a freak like him.

You pop back out from under the table, holding out the dice in your hand.

"It rolled a 15. Does that count?"

He smiles, laughing a little despite the hollow feeling in his chest. "Only if it lands on the table."

You pretend to pout, sliding back into the chair, a little closer than it was before, the ripped knee in his jeans brushing against your thigh. He shifts an inch the other direction until the contact is lost.

"Okay, so now I roll for initiative?"

Eddie rests his head in his palm, nodding in response and trying to hide the hurt in his eyes.

Like he said. Fantasy.

Part Two

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #my writing #requests #anons #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four

653 notes · View notes

punkeropercyjackson · 4 months

Text

Nico and Percy have been my favorite dynamic in the entire Riordanverse for a decade now and i'll shamefully admit that for a long time it was in a romantic way because of young and inexperienced naivety but i digress,nobody and i mean NOBODY ELSE'S relathionship has ever topped their's for me and it's incredibly impressive that Rick tried so hard to convince us what they had was never real or meant to last yet their platonic and familial love for eachother is still so there on every page that involves both of them.And now that i've gained proper analysis and writing skills,i know the version that they most deserve is where Percy is explicitly a femme trans woman and Nico is a trans boy instead of just accidental coding

Nico stands at her balcony to give her his plan,not knowing she's a her just yet,and in those moments of eating blue cake together and a few other things happening you realize the boy you hated yourself over was never a boy at all because you put your idolization aside to let yourself relax and see her for who she is.You tell her that and she freaks out for a second until you tell her you're the same in more than just being a demigod and you're both happy and promise to be friends again.Months pass of it not being broken this time and you've taught eachother about what you love to do and her favorite food is his favorite now too and she has his favorite song memorized and her mom is now their mom but he's not free from his monster of a father just yet.Her name is now short for his asshole stepmom's name because she wanted to thank her for helping her transition(ancient greek magic shit)and he won't say it to the asshole in question's face but he thinks it's got a nice ring to it because it's his best friend's name and he's her biggest weakness and the one who made her stronger than ever

You're at the skatepark she used to go to as a kid but stopped when the trauma set in but now she'd back because she can finally truly live as a girl and you bought matching skateboard's in your own styles(Her's is sea themed and very clearly a girl's,yours is gothic with a cheeky colorful twist)and she's teaching you how to do it and you're ecstatic and you both know this meant to be a calm before the storm of the war that you're both too young to be a part of but the adults are no good so you have no choice.And when it comes,the plan that started it all almost fails because your father wanted power over others safety and she verbally desimates him for acting like it's your fault he's unlovable instead of his own actions' and the last straw is when he tries to do the thing he's doing to you to her and you loose any fear and what you say to him leaves him frozen like stygian ice in shock and you break her out while you still can and next thing you know you're side by side and back to back on the battlefield and eventually,you've won.She's the heroine of the Great Prophecy like you always thought and you're both so exhausted from all the fighting and mental strain that she just collapses on the floor of the currently empty Olympus throne room to catch her breath so you do the same on top of her and rest your head on your chest like you'd gotten into the habit to

He says sorry and that he could've been of more help and she says he did everything perfectly so he nods and they decide to sleep,not caring who they'll wake up to because they're both safe and together and that's what matters.I tried to hate you and i thought you hated me.Actually i loved you so much it was killing me and i still love you but now it's different because i know you've always been different,just like me.You're my opposite and we're two halves of a whole.You taught me how to be a kid again and you taught me how to forgive myself and see how amazing i am.You're a piece of my soul.I'd kill anyone who hurts you and i'm willing to prove it.I barely remember my mother but i know you treat me like she would've and you're everything i could've hoped to be when i was younger.I think i'll love you forever

16 notes · View notes

thewhitefluffyhat · 1 year

Text

Ianthe’s Makeover Through a Femme!Harrow Lens

“This seems like a good week to post about how I relate to Harrow as a fellow androgynous-femme,” I say, taking cover behind an industrial strength blast shield. (Joking, joking.)

But in all seriousness, this post has been in my drafts for a while. I’d seen the makeover scene in HtN described as “confusing” when it comes to Harrow’s gender, and I honestly thought it was too on first read.

So I wanted to take a closer look!

Spoilers: I don’t think it’s as simple as Harrow being uncomfortable with wearing dresses in the abstract.

Rather, the main aspect that stood out to me as making Harrow curl up like a shivering wet cat is the loss of control and the sexual haze permeating the whole affair. And I really do want to underline the latter aspect, because even before Dios apate Minor enters the picture, Ianthe herself repeatedly frames what she’s doing in terms of making Harrow more sexually desirable. More fuckable, if you will:

"God, what's this? That's a bit risqué-" You grew desperate. "Let me pick." Harrow the Ninth, p264

"Not even one of the Emperor's fists and gestures could give Harrowhark Nonagesimus a sexy makeover. Sometimes I think you look like a twig's funeral. In the right light, though-" Harrow the Ninth, p264

"You look just good enough that I'm proud of my handiwork, but not so good that I'll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl," she said. "I walked a fine line, and I walked it admirably." Harrow the Ninth, p266

But Ianthe also emphasizes: not too fuckable, Harrow shouldn’t misunderstand and become confident in her body, because Harrow is such a pitiful charity case that the only beauty she can ever hope to attain will be scraps distributed at Ianthe’s mercy. She’s… she’s literally doing the High School Mean Girl schtick of “I’ll help you look pretty as a favor, but don’t you dare challenge my place in the pretty pecking order.”

Which, to be honest, probably says a lot more more about Ianthe and Coronabeth and their issues than anything about Harrow! Like, tell me more, Ianthe, how do you feel about constantly being described as the lesser twin to your face? I’m sure that’s never hurt you and you’re not projecting here at all, haha.

But regardless of its effectiveness, to me this strategy reads as an attempt at a very femme-vs-femme power play. You want to talk about gatekeeping femme identity? Surprise surprise, so does Ms. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss!

As a result, Harrow, being a delightfully contrarian and passive-aggressive little shit even in the depths of having her agency denied, protests this in whatever small ways she can still find:

As an act of meaningless rebellion, you applied the sacramental skull of the Priestess Crushed Beneath the New-Laid Rock, the least beautiful skull in the canon. Harrow the Ninth, p266

“Fuck you and fuck trying to win your rigged game I didn’t even want to play,” essentially.

But note that Harrow doesn't wear a masculine-coded skull to protest Ianthe’s dress. (Are there gendered skulls in the canon? Muir could easily have made one up here, or had Harrow wear a pattern normally used by her father, Crux, or Ortus.) It’s not being seen as feminine or femme that she’s objecting to. Instead, Harrow goes for the ugliest skull, the “I don’t want to be perceived as desirable from any perspective” option.

And this actually reads very true to my own experiences! I’m somewhere between an androgynous and a non-mainstream feminine presentation myself, and I’ve had basically this exact same fight over what to wear at a social event. Right down to finding subtle ways to make myself less attractive to subvert the other person's attempt to control my appearance. Better something ugly that I chose myself than something playing by the rules that femme = signing up to be judged on the fuckability scale.

(Not, to be clear, that there’s anything wrong with pursuing or enjoying sexual attractiveness! Just that being forced into it feels really awful.)

Now, the topic of what does and doesn’t count as femme is… fraught and basically impossible to definitively nail down. But presenting as femme and/or feminine as part of one’s queerness often involves being in dialogue with other forms of femininity, picking and choosing which aspects to keep and which to reject. I’ve seen lipstick lesbians talk about their over the top makeup as a way to mark themselves as different from the heterosexual “natural look” norm. I myself love the gothic lolita look, because I like the idea of being seen as “feminine” in a transgressive way, but also potentially in a way that strikes other people as less sexual. (Though the nuances of lolita fashion could be a whole other discussion…)

Harrow’s presentation preferences aren’t quite the same as mine (she does not enjoy being seen as smaller or more childish), but she seems to share the desire for her unusual femme aesthetic to implicitly deflect from sexual interest rather than attracting it. She’s using her religion as a socially acceptable shield against Ianthe’s advances. Because given Ianthe’s reactions to the subject, flirting with a nun seems to be at least a little as taboo in TLT as it does in our world:

You simply said, “I have always slept alone.” “You don’t say.” You heard the primness in your voice when you said, “I am betrothed to the Locked Tomb, Tridentarius. I slept on a cot in my cell.” “I always forget you were an honest-to-God nun...” Harrow the Ninth, p260

Ianthe is an asshole who ignores Do Not Touch signals, but I think Harrow’s desperate clinging to her nun robes is, in part, another assertion of this implicit boundary. So I read the makeover scene as Harrow having an allergic reaction to being sexualized and objectified against her will (and to the entire idea that correctly performing as femme requires one to aspire to such), rather than disliking being perceived as femme or even feminine in general.

A second layer to this scene is the slimy cultural aspect to what Ianthe does. If the paint and full-body coverings are the Ninth's version of proper female attire, then Ianthe is forcing Harrow to perform to a very Third ideal instead:

“Will you take off that grotesque skeleton corset?” “No.” “What about your face paint?” “No.” “I do not know why I ask these questions,” she said. Harrow the Ninth, p265

I'm always wary of assuming modern racial dynamics apply to TLT’s universe, but y'all... this scene is a white woman forcing a brown woman from a stigmatized, minority religion to perform a normalized Western standard of femininity. Up to a rebuffed attempt to remove her face/hair coverings. Regardless of how much this dynamic applies in-universe, the real life parallels are not exactly subtle! Harrow could be the most feminine femme to ever gender within her culture, and what Ianthe does would still be extremely gross and coercive.

It’s also another direct callback to GtN - Ianthe forcing Harrow into fashionable Third norms is an inversion of the scene of Harrow forcing Gideon into Ninth facepaint. The same way that Harrow’s demeaning “Griddle” gets a dark reprise in Ianthe’s “Harry” and several other echoes in HtN of Harrow having to endure similar treatment from Ianthe as she once abused Gideon.

Ianthe is insisting that in order for Harrow to meet the dinner party’s standards, she must compromise her own culture’s standards. That Harrow’s own ceremonial robes aren’t expensive or nice enough to pass in a formal setting. She can be a well-dressed femme, or she can be a Ninth nun, but not both. Again, I don’t see Harrow’s objections to this treatment as being in conflict with Harrow having a femme-leaning identity, so much as Harrow being made wretchedly helpless and humiliated by having her Ninth heritage erased to fit Ianthe’s Third tastes.

Still not convinced? Finally, let’s contrast Ianthe’s makeover with the scene of Harrow getting ready for Abigail and Magnus’s anniversary in GtN:

She put on her best and most senescent Ninth robes, and became a skinny black stick swallowed by night-coloured layers of Locked Tomb lace. She fiddled with long earrings of bone in front of the mirror and repainted her face twice. Gideon the Ninth, p168

In any case, both she and Harrowhark turned up, gorgeously gowned in their Locked Tomb vestments, painted like living skulls, looking like douchebags. Harrow clinked when she walked with the sheer multiplicity of bonely accoutrement. Gideon the Ninth, p169

Here, Harrow is dressing purely according to her own decisions, and she actually doubles down on the more stereotypically feminine lace and jewelry rather than aiming for something wholly androgynous. She also does her best to appear neat and presentable here despite being a scruffly gremlin most of the time. Perfectionist that she is, Harrow is still nervous about her ability to perform it, but she’s confident in the specific femme aesthetic that she’s aspiring toward.

(Side note: You know who else wears an excessive amount of jewelry at Canaan House? Coronabeth. Was Harrow trying to look more like Corona, and if so, why? More crunchy gender food for thought…)

Ultimately. if your takeaway from the Ianthe makeover scene was "ah, Harrow would have been more comfortable if Ianthe gave her a suit" …I wouldn’t say that’s unreasonable. You could certainly do an alternative read of the scene as Ianthe force-feminizing a butch or nonbinary-leaning Harrow. (And if someone writes that essay I would love to read it!) But I don’t think that’s the only valid interpretation, and my personal read of the scene is that Ianthe is trying to coerce Harrow into a sexualized and gatekept definition of femme that Harrow strongly rejects.

It’s the pain and powerlessness of being told you’re doing your own gender wrong. Then having someone “helpfully” show you how to perform it right …only to look in the mirror afterwards and recognize yourself even less. And at that point, starting to miserably wonder if you’re even allowed to be your gender at all. Does that make sense?

Well, even if it doesn’t, thanks for reading to the end! 🖤 💀 🖤

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #tlt analysis #my tlt stuff #my ramblings #read more #note: edited a few bits 1.10.23 for further clarity of terms #anyway this seemed like a good segue #from last week’s ianthe-themed queue #into the harrow&ianthe art queue I'm planning to do next

136 notes · View notes