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#forced proximity is the shit

gayofthefae · 1 year

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I know motelgate is kind of all about one bed right but what about those we both couldn’t sleep in our separate rooms and now we’re standing at a motel vending machine together at 3am in our pajamas talking and staring at each other in an infinite hallway with nobody there, enjoying the intimacy arguably even deeper than being alone in a small room of being in a public place where there could and should be people but aren’t.

#the cold air #there is just something so poet and beautiful about hotel/motel HALLWAYS not room conversations #not forced proximity for such a long time you have to talk or share a bed but that you were so in sync that you got up at the same time #like how jancy didn't share a bed at murray's place #....at first #ooooh them talking about the real shit but out of their rooms like jancy at murray's like jancy at murray's #parallels to their motel AND the living room talk #stranger things #motelgate #byler #byler parallels #byler²

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Forced Proximity

"Bye, James!"

"Bye, Sam!"

"Bye, Steve!"

"Bye, James!" you repeat, waving all three men off.

"What was that?" Loki questions, a smirk tugging at his mouth as the two of you walk away from the hangar and back into the compound.

"What?"

"You said bye to Barnes twice," he points out.

"Oh," you shrug, walking faster through the halls. With the three men off on a mission and the others working on different missions of their own, it left you all alone with Loki until they got back- much to Bucky's dismay.

"Does someone fancy a certain super soldier?" Loki teases, picking up the pace so he's walking just in front of you.

"What? No," you over-dramatically scoff, abruptly turning down another hall to avoid any more of Loki's questions.

"You do remember that I can tell when you're not being truthful, right?" he reminds you, his voice falling further and further behind as you make random turns through the halls to get away from Loki.

"Right," you mutter, continuing your walk to the kitchen until Loki suddenly pops in front of you. "Jeez," you squeak, your hand flying over to your racing heart.

"That's what happens when you try to avoid me."

"Hey, why didn't you go on the mission today?" you ask, deflecting from Loki's current line of questioning.

"I'm feeling a bit mischievous today," Loki wickedly smirks.

You make your way around him, nodding along to his response. "Oh, makes sense."

Loki continues his pace right behind you, following your every step. "You're not going to ask me what I'm going to do? You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head, stopping at the kitchen island to rearrange a bouquet of flowers that you'd already arranged this morning. Anything to take your mind off of Loki's interrogation. "No, I trust you."

He looks at you in confusion, sensing that you're not lying. "Most people that trust me end up regretting it."

"Eh," you shrug, turning away from the island and walking over to the sink to wash your hands. "I'm not one to judge."

"And you're still not lying. Interesting..."

"Why would I lie?"

"Aren't you scared of me?"

"No," you chortle.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended by that or not."

"You shouldn't be," you smile.

Loki looks around the room for a moment. The pink flowers, your pink dress, the sugar cookies you'd made yesterday with heart shaped sprinkles on it. "What is all this pink?"

"It's Valentine's Day," you explain, trying to find something else to distract you. You see the confused look on Loki's face and remember that he probably doesn't know about this Earth holiday. "Right, Asgardian. It's...it's a day to celebrate someone you care about- someone you love."

"You need a day to show someone you care about them? You all have the strangest holidays. "

"I think it's sweet. You ask someone to be your Valentine, show them that you care about them. A day dedicated to that one person in your life, it's nice."

"Are you going to ask Barnes to be your Valentine?"

You keep your head down to avoid looking Loki in the eye and so he doesn't see the blush on your face. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because..." you mumble, opening the fridge door just to close it because you don't actually need anything in there.

"Because?"

"Because I'm not going to," you reply, opening the door again, only to forget what you needed again.

"So you're not doing to anything to celebrate?"

You sigh, trying to pull yourself together, but instead you end up just standing and staring at the closed refrigerator door. "Me and Sam usually go to the store day after to buy all the chocolate that's on sale. Then I make cookies with the little red and pink M&M's."

"But you're not going to ask the man you fancy to be your Valentine?"

"I don't fancy anyone," you mutter.

"You're lying again," Loki laughs.

"I'm not lying," you scoff.

"Lying again..." he teases, enjoying how flustered you're getting about this one particular person. "How many times are you going to open and close that?" he taunts, flustering you even more.

"If you're not going to help, can you at least stop messing with me?" you plead, turning away from the fridge.

"Don't worry, little one. I'm going to help you," he wryly remarks.

"Thank you," you huff, not realizing the double meaning behind Loki's words.

By the time Bucky is back, he finds you on the couch watching a movie on the big TV in the lounge. He's already debriefed, taken a quick shower, and handed in his mission report, so he carelessly flops down on the couch right beside you ready to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening.

"I missed you today," you warmly smile, pausing the movie.

"What? Loki wasn't as much fun as I am?" he quips.

You playfully roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder away. "You know no one is."

Bucky clutches his chest with both of his hands. "You warm my cold, cold heart."

"Only for you," you coyly respond.

"For everyone," Bucky corrects.

"Mmm, but you're extra special," you giggled, scooting yourself closer to Bucky, swinging your legs onto his lap. He smiles in contentment, placing his own hand on your thigh.

"My, my, don't you two look very comfortable," Loki suggestively comments, striding into the room.

"What do you want?" Bucky begrudgingly sighs, his hand still resting on your leg.

"Oh, the other one in your little trio said he need some help in the training room."

"The other one? You mean Sam?"

Loki cooly shrugs. "Sure."

"Did he say what he needed?" Bucky probes.

"No," he says, turning to walk away. As he walks away, he calls over his shoulder, "Oh, right! He did say it was an emergency."

"And you couldn't have led with that?" Bucky glowered, watching the man walk away.

You swing your legs off of Bucky, still feeling the lingering warmth of where his hand was. The two of you run to the training room. It takes you no time to reach the training room, the both of you stopping your sprint once you're several feet into the room. You immediately notice the lack of an emergency or even the lack of anyone else in the general vicinity. You whirl around once you're certain there's no one there, turning to see Loki standing there in the doorway, cheekily smirking at you. With a wicked smile, he smugly waves at the two of you who still haven't quite put together Loki's scheme. As the realization hits you first, you bolt to the door, but it slams shut leaving you and Bucky trapped inside.

"Loki, this isn't funny!" you shout, banging on the door.

"Loki," Bucky barks, suddenly right next to you. His metal hand pounds on the door, creating an even louder effect. "Open the door."

The two of you pound on the door, hoping that someone will hear the commotion or that Loki will give in, but it's several minutes later and you're positive that Loki is not coming back.

"Alright, I can open the door. No problem," Bucky says, rubbing his hands together before placing his hands in the small crevice of the door to try and pry them open. "What the hell? Why won't they open?"

As Bucky continues trying to open the doors, you remember something, "Um, James? At what point would be a good time to mention that Tony had the walls reinforced?"

"Right about now," he groans, removing his hands from the door with nothing to show for his effort except a small dent in the crack of the door.

"Well, let me try," you offer, taking a step back and channeling your abilities. Other than a muted groan of the door, the door remains woefully closed.

"Great," Bucky huffs. "Now what?"

"We just have to wait for someone to come find us. Someone's probably already realized that were gone and they're looking for us right now."

"And if they don't?" he sighs, sliding down the wall to sit onto the floor

"Eventually someone's going to need to come in here. Most of the team works out in here at least once a day," you rationalize.

"Yeah, but we all train in the morning!"

"Right. Well Sam's definitely noticed that were not around. He'll come find us."

"Sam's got a date tonight," he reminds you.

"Right," you hesitantly nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Well, what about Steve? He'll definitely notice if you're not around."

"Right," Bucky mutters, though he's doubting that anyone will notice that the two of you are stuck in there for quite some time. He looks around the room, trying to find anything useful. When he looks over his shoulder, you're right there, smiling at him, looking at him with wide eyes and an bright expression, and the room seems to shrink, bringing you two even closer.

Bucky starts to panic realizing he's going to be trapped inside this room all alone with you for an undetermined amount of time. "Why? Why?" he groans, banging his head against the wall.

"Come on, I'm not that bad," you joke.

"No! Not like that. You're not- I'm- It's just a bad night to get locked inside of the training room," he sputters.

"Is there a good night to get locked in the training room?" you ask, carefully examining every single inch of the door.

He huffs out a laugh. "No, I guess not."

"Did you have a date tonight or something?" you meekly ask, momentarily turning away from the door to watch Bucky's expression.

He chuckles again. "No, it's just me tonight. You?"

"Just me," you shrug, your attention back on the door.

"Really?" he asks, the question flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

"Why is that so surprising?"

"Because you're gorgeous- I mean, you look gorgeous today. Not that you don't look beautiful every day, but you're all dressed up-"

"It's okay," you chuckle, stopping his rambling. "I know what you mean. Thank you, by the way."

"So no one?" he asks, his voice full of hope.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek again, you quietly admit, "I mean, there was one guy, but I don't think he's interested."

His stomach sinks, his smile dropping as he processes the new information. You're still standing at the doorway, staring at it like you can will the doors open. "Then he's an idiot."

"No," you sigh in defeat, padding over to where Bucky's sitting on the floor against the wall. "I don't think that's it. He just doesn't see me like that."

"Again, an idiot," Bucky grumbles.

"What about you?" you ask, sliding down the wall to sit right next to Bucky. "No lucky lady caught your eye?"

"She's interested in some other guy, I guess."

"Well, then she's not very bright either," you comment, feeling your own stomach sink at Bucky's revelation.

Bucky's sigh is long and drawn out, he's not sure what to do with the fact that you're interested in someone else. Somewhere between Sam's and Steve's urging, he started to believe that there could be something there between the two of you. But now it looked like he'd waited too long.

Of course you had, in Bucky's eyes, you were perfection. It shouldn't be a shock to him that some other guy had seen that too.

"Oh! I think I have a pot of soil around here somewhere," you audibly wonder, standing up from where your spot next to Bucky to rummage through the supply closet.

"A pot of soil?" Bucky whispers to himself.

"Here it is!" you exclaim, holding up the small ceramic pot.

"Are you going to explain or...?" Bucky trails off.

"What's your favorite fruit?" you ask, setting the pot down and sitting back down next to Bucky.

"What's your's?" Bucky counters.

You playfully roll your eyes before closing them to focus. Your hands hover over the pot while Bucky watches, waiting for a single clue as to what you might be doing. That's when the first little sprout emerges from the soil. A smile grows on your face as the plant grows larger and larger. When the first fruits crop up, your eyes flicker open. "Strawberry?" you offer.

"You're amazing, you know that," Bucky marvels, plucking the fruit from it's stem. You blush, picking your own fruit from the plant. "So tell me about this guy," Bucky asks, wondering just how much you like this guy, and also possibly wondering if he still stood a chance.

You meekly shrug, unsure of how to answer without embarrassing yourself.

"Come on, it's not like we're going anywhere any time soon, please?"

You dejectedly exhale, "I don't know what you want to hear. He's great, but I don't think he sees me like that."

"Do I know this guy?"

"You do," you vaguely reply.

"So he works here?"

"He does."

"Okay, that narrows it down to a couple hundred employees," he remarks, his mind running rampant trying to figure out what guy caught your eye. "What floor?"

"This floor," you blurt before you can think of a better response.

"So he works with the team? Or he's on the team?" Bucky waits for you to respond, but you don't, taking an incredibly long time chewing a single bite of your strawberry. "He's on the team!"

"James," you warn.

"Now you have to tell me who it is!" he begs.

"Why don't you tell me about this girl?"

"Oh," he frowns. "I don't-"

"Oh, someone doesn't like being in the hot seat now, do they?" you tease.

"Fine," he sighs. "She works here too."

"Do I know her?" you ask, your voice subtly laced with jealousy.

"You do."

"Is she pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous," Bucky wistfully sighs. "She's nothing like me. She's smart, funny, brightening up every room she's in. She's perfect."

"You really like this girl," you state, envy pricking at the pit of your stomach. "You should go for it. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"And you should tell this guy how you feel," Bucky counters.

"It might complicate things - him being on the team if he doesn't feel the same."

"I'd bet you anything that he does."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Any guy that catches your eye has to be the luckiest bastard on the planet," Bucky comments.

"He's older," you say, a little too eager to dismiss as casual. His remark gave you the slightest bit of hope, just enough to be a little more forward than normal.

"Yeah?"

"Depending on your definition, I guess a lot older."

"Like how old?" Bucky probes, hope slightly tugging at his heart.

"Physically only a few years older than me," you say, your voice dropping as you lean closer to Bucky.

"How old?" Bucky gruffly asks, his voice and actions mirroring yours.

"A hundred years give or take," you whisper.

"Please tell me you're not talking about Steve," he exhales against your lips.

"I'm not-" Those two words are all Bucky needs to hear before closing the gap between the two of you. At first, his lips are hesitant against yours, as if he's expecting that you're going to shove him away and berate him for making that assumption. You feel the anxiety radiate off of Bucky, so you rest your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Without breaking the kiss, you shift to your knees, slowly crawling closer to him. He lifts you the slightest bit off the floor, each of your knees come to rest on either side of his lap. Your hands move from his shoulder to wind their way into the nape of his hair.

"Is anyone in there?" the familiar voice jolts you to out of your reverie.

Bucky clears his throat, pulling away slightly. You try to stand up but Bucky's grip remains firm on your waist. "Yeah, we're in here."

"Hi, Steve," you breathlessly call through the door.

"Uh, who busted the keypad?" he asks.

"Loki," you reply.

"Guys, the door's stuck," Steve shouts. You hear him fumble with the broken keypad, presumably trying to get the door open.

"We know!' the two of you groan in unison.

"I already tried to get the doors open, it didn't work. Just trust me, Steve. We're okay in here," Bucky calls, desperate to get his friend to leave the two of you alone again.

"Buck, why don't we try to pull the door apart together? On the count of three, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky impatiently calls, though he makes no move to get you off his lap or get any closer to the door. With a wry grin, he places a single finger to his lips, telling you not to say anything. You smile back, silently agreeing.

"1, 2, 3," Steve calls through the door, and at no point does Bucky try to pry the doors open. "Damn, the door is really jammed! Tony's gone for the night, but I can call him, see if we can get you out."

"Don't worry about it. We're fine in here," Bucky assures him.

"You sure?" Steve calls.

"Yeah," you agree. "We're good."

"Really good," Bucky smugly mutters, his voice dropping so only you can hear him.

"Alright, let me know if you need anything."

"Okay," you both reply.

Bucky waits only a matter of seconds before grabbing your waist and pulling your lips back to his. In the midst of another heated kiss, the intercom crackles overhead with Steve's familiar voice, "You do know there's cameras in there?"

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Masterlist

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purlturtle · 21 days

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Romance Tropes Bracket, Semi-Finals!

The Battle of the Quadrant Winners!

I'm gonna go into some more detail on the winners (and losers) again, so again I'll put it under the readmore.

Left-hand side

I've said it before, but none of the tropes in the red quadrant really did it for me - and this carries through to the bracket between Second Chances and Holiday Romance.

Holiday Romance is absolutely great and good for what it is, and stories that revolve around it/use it as a basis can be the perfect read I reach for when I feel like it. It can carry familial conflict, for queer stories additionally coming-out-to-your-family dynamics, it allows for interesting exploration of culture and traditions especially if the story is about a cross-cultural couple. And since it's often set in Northern hemisphere wintertime, there are winter wonderland themes that I also truly enjoy. It is fitting that it should advance to the semi-finals - but it is also okay that this is where its run ends.

Second Chances, though. It's not quite enemies to lovers - it's people who have hurt each other in the past, and need to deal with that to find happiness in the now. Or maybe two (or, hell, more!) people weren't the right people back then, but they are the right people now. (This pertains, for example, to my oldest of all ships, Deanna Troi and Will Riker. Mutual annoyance to lovers to ex-lovers to co-workers to friends to lovers? FUCK ME it's so good.) It's about being honest about what you did and how that hurt them, the why's of what you did and the ways you've changed since then, the hope that the other person (or persons) might acknowledge that and forgive you, the work you need to do to forgive yourself - the tentative hope that there might be a happy ending possible after all that? the despair that it might not? Oh it is delicious (and also a big part of my all-time favorite ship, Bering and Wells. They have Second Chances written all over them in big capital italicized letters.)

So, yeah, Second Chances it is.

Right-hand side

This was an even stronger fight: Forced Proximity vs. Friends to Lovers?! How dare this bracket make me choose!!

I'll start with the defeated trope again: Friends to Lovers. I love it. I really, really, really love it. It has so much: mutual trust and affection, the realization that there is something more (and how deliciously long that sometimes take, when the protagonist(s) are just too dense to figure it out, or too scared to even acknowledge it to themselves!), the worry that it might not be mutual, the agonizing about "Do I tell them and risk destroying what we have if they don't feel the same?". And the shining brightness and happiness of "I can have it *all*? I can have friendship AND love? With *them*??!" And if the story continues on, also the way that some dynamics change and some stay the same, the negotiation which the couple (or polycule) wants to change or not, the way that how others see them might change - so much potential, so many things to love. It's both gentle and nerve-wracking, it's such a good trope - and then there's Forced Proximity.

I mean ideally the two go hand-in-hand, right? Have your friends-to-lovers protagonists, still at that "I don't know if they love me back aaaaahhhh I can't risk it!!" stage, and toss them into forced proximity until they *have* to come clean. But, one must win. Only one can move forward! 😭 And I couldn't resist the strength of the impulse to bang my blorbos together and make them kiss (eventually). To put them in scenario after scenario in which they are stuck with each other and nothing else to do but Talk About Their Feelings - Or Make Out. @performativezippers you mentioned that specific queer situation of having confusing feelings for your same-gender friend in your write-up for friends-to-lovers; I agree - and I often find that a Forced Proximity moment can help with that and also can lead to confessing or acting on one's feelings, and *that* part of it, I find so very compelling. The resolution, for which forced proximity is such a good catalyst!

It wins out by the skin of its teeth, by that very virtue of being the catalyst and moment of resolution rather than all that's gone before. Honestly though? Run this bracket again in three weeks and it might win out. They are both that strong.

#romance tropes bracket #semi-finals #second chances #holiday romance #forced proximity #friends to lovers #shit man this was HARD

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hardlypartying · 1 year

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“i’m not the bad guy you think i am”

“i got a boat that can get us off the island… we gotta get out of here, it’s better if we work together”

“they’re going to find john b and your sister” “sucks for them, that’s good for us tho”

“i told you we just had to work together”

“i can give you a ride out, drop you wherever, somewhere safe”

“i know your friends and my sister are on the island, i’m not helping them, i can’t trust them okay… i’ll give you a ride out but not them”

“i mean i always liked you kie, you’re at least half kook”

“i just lose control in moments like that, i’m trying to get better” kiara nodding along and her small “okay” as he explains himself

and her “oh god” and teary eyes when he starts slapping himself

HOW is this canon we were fed a full course meal 😭

okay anon you did it-- this delicious assortment of canon dialogue is the straw that broke the camel's back bc now i've got a new fic in the works directly based off of the line “i can give you a ride out, drop you wherever, somewhere safe”

or, the one where sarah was right and ward/rafe are the ones after them and rafe accidentally kidnaps kiara instead of sarah and uses her as extortion >:)

#and also the “im not the bad guy you think i am” line..... did i not have that in chap 3 of bad habit??#bc i remember writing something like that bc of the darkling and felt rafe was angsty enough to say some shit like that #feeling so happy with canon rn #living life loving life <3 #anyway for the new fic (no ETA at all rn) it'd be kiara being taken back to Guadeloupe #and forced proximity (the greatest trope ever imo) where she's trying to get away but there's literally no way to and rafe is all #"???? wtf are u tryin to do ur safe here???#and kiara is very much Not for that and is always like “they're gonna come for me”#and he's an absolute dick and is very much “hm sure how sweet”#ANYWAY #it'd be a morally grey kiara which i'm gonna need to roll up my sleeves to do but the way i'm seeing it its totally possible #absolute carnage of them getting involved in some dark ass underbelly of illegal markets for the cross #i need to figure out how long it's gonna be first and work with that #reluctant allies ultimately #enemies with benefits #asks #riara

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communistchilchuck · 8 months

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dick fuming at the thought of jp and holding a grudge is really funny and semi-accurate admittedly but i do really love the progression of their dynamic through most of the azrael solo as like... things are still tense from knightfall but dick is willing to spar with him and team up with him on decent terms and though jp is jealous of dick in his own way for a while he's also blunt enough to tell dick 'you don't like me, huh?' and try to ease that tension through being honest to dick about his half of said tension. he's jealous of dick, but dick tells jp that the things jp is jealous of are things he's also insecure about. and they bond a little bit! they make a pretty decent team *and* dick is still willing to help jp when he's at the end of his rope. idk. i think the nuance is good and fun. also:

we are smoking straight symbolism

#granted it kind of goes to shit when jp has The Final Spiral but thats The Final Spiral. i liked the progression of their dynamic for a #while until then. and! i'd love to see them forced to be in close proximity for a long time. i think dick can handle him in small doses #but... not in. i was going to say smth that sounded WAY different than i intended. not for long stretches. itd be fun to see them chafe but #ultimately work together

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 months

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ppl will be explaining how a difference is a difference & not a Deviation from a Superior state, & people who are the ones considered Default Normal (superior) will be like "okay....to be polite....i Might say i consider Some aspects of Some people's existence mere 'difference' & not being less than me...." as like hey i'm a Benevolent god. i still actually get to consider you worse & don't have to "humor" anything that challenges my superiority. if you only want everything to fit into the norm then it will all come back to upholding the norm. thinking of people's analysis of their own realities as equally legimate as being like Obscure, Irrelevant, Superficial & then using that reasoning to justify dismissing them. same as worrying that the [Different Lessers (Others(tm))] as Everywhere = a manifestation of the awareness that, yeah, respecting them as equals Does threaten your norm which is smothering everything everywhere. ppl who need to lock in the idea of Borders around personhood like um Yes they're all delineated separate Identities outside any hierarchy & so i think it's relevant to for some reason push back against "ohh so now Everyone's queer" like why not. why couldn't they be. what if they were. what if queerness was everywhere b/c it's ideological not a cordoned off Alternative Identity that is accommodated by focusing on Love(tm) as the new border around whose existence we might begrudgingly accept at arm's length (i.e. being otherwise "normal"! just imagine swapping out the binary gender (or, deep breath, presumed Private Parts) of one partner in an exclusive romantic lifelong nuclear family marriage, & that is Gay / Trans Rights. still gross but maybe we can do it, as long as they don't talk about it or shove it in our faces or even exist for more than one encounter w/us in our lives b/c what are the odds). evergreen laughing at someone suggesting ableist logic might be embedded in language of past & present b/c it's just So little to ask for that it's irrelevant but it's also So much to ask for that of course i'm not gonna do anything more than pass it along like "this is why i don't take ableism seriously" like yeah it's the disabled randos like it's the individual cringe teens(tm) ruining [the cishets would take Gender seriously otherwise!!!] & that's why you won't think about it or do anything about it & continue being comfortable with the norm & resent that actually their Difference is Less & disability is something worse that ppl "excuse" & all these ways that people are & all these things that they do are funny & weird & inexplicable & etc & one can't possibly be cruising along perpetuating a hierarchy with a sense that you're reasonable, well meaning, kind, etc etc & thus Justified, systemic oppression definitely wants to maximize how uncomfortable & arduous it feels to everyone rather than push to make it more streamlined & rewarding to embrace, or at least accept, whatever superiority over others you're afforded

#circled around to lovelessness as a lens there. so long as one was loving. so long as one wasn't consciously malicious #really just mask off about keeping the same perspective of Superiority when conflating disability & ppl ''making excuses''#same as like e.g. that ppl consider everything an autistic person does as being Bad / Wrong / Worse. (this includes ''unskilled''!!!)#(crushing the Social Skills(tm) framework in talking abt allistic difference in my fist)#such that they think sm1 saying Autistic!! is then something they might be unfairly Beholden to to Put Up With their Wrongness #at special times in special scenarios....rather than like in some contexts you are no more ''right'' than the other party #different groups & cultures whose Norms Standards & Expectations could render You presumed rude thoughtless pushy etc #obvious overlaps to consider re: the Norms of like english speaking as ''universal'' someone noticeably speaking it as nth language?#time to Presume their ideas & contributions are Less. if they had the good brain like you their fluency would render their linguistic #Wrongness in having a diff 1st language invisible thus irrelevant. like the ''ideal'' for disability! as the ''ideal'' for anyone Passing #in any way! queer ppl surely all want to be as proximate to cishet ideals (just as cishet ppl should!) nonwhite ppl to Ideal White #women's rights = Proving they're As Good As men. ladies you're using too many exclamation points!! be Confident be Pushier!!#but ofc nobody actually wants the Others(tm) to be Equal. they're just saying ''it's your innate Wrongness that means you Aren't''#the ableism logic in everything. men just Are better at xyz. oh we Can abuse autists...into being as proximate to allistic as possible!!#just actually means ''oh we Can abuse autists.'' the ''correctness'' is your Difference ''intruding'' less into allistic existence #force you to be harmed & diminished all day then save your meltdowns for when you're alone & out of the way #ppl's tweets like ''when ppl say 'omg too sensitive ofc i wasn't talking abt disabled ppl!' like yeah no shit b/c you never think of #disabled ppl'' like yeah most people idk aren't making their life's agenda to stop everyone from saying Stupid #but like believe me people organically sense the Vintage R words when you get called Idiot in exactly the same spirit & purpose #i mean that's so rworded as in that's so gay!! cmon!! & it's fine if you don't say either to gay ppl or. or. [insert the office quote]#oh i don't call um 20th c disabled ppl morons it's bad taste!! but b/c i use it Figuratively in the present it's fine it's so Different #fr i can't remember like. an article w/1 matter of fact sentence from a doctor using a [now Just a childish insult!!] as Diagnostic Label #for someone's disability & it still registered like ice water in the face. presumably no ''especial'' Malice just matter of fact!#it wasn't ''idiot'' it may have been ''moron'' fr. the vintage ''factual'' r word is There plain as day #like yeah ofc the ableism gets channeled into alternate language. & then complaints abt that is like UGH CMON!!!#like idk shouldn't you be fine using the R word then too? not really sweating this issue thee most all thee time either but like #it's not sooo funny even if someone seems pressed extensively abt it. not that hard to in fact just not use all these words all the time #ppl will be throwing out their ableism w/o Any labels talking about how Weird Offputting Etc someone acts so you can Tell they're bad....#and yeah you should think abt that. anytime. the [difference used to categorize ''other'' is Just difference] Is Everywhere All The Time #the idea it can & should be ''contained'' for especial limited specific occasions (when you're feeling Nice!) = upholding the status quo

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softfists · 4 months

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I love that "fuck you" feeling I get when some administrator is being dumb over email and I CC my advisor (doesn't fuck around, big name at the institution) into the thread who immediately shuts that shit down

#not actual power but proximity to it #for real though it's as useful for procedural academic shit as it was for forcing HR to let me change my name when i transitioned #a lot of allyship in these settings is just being the person with institutional power who responds to the call of the cc

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sneetsnootyoit · 11 months

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In the process of writing the most FOUL, kinky, toe-curling smut for an Agent Whiskey x Reader fic that has enemies to lovers and smut and forced proximity at one point. There's a lot of feelings and porn with plot. This is probably going to be one of the most unhinged things I write. How unhinged? Just look at the tags, man

I really hope people actually read and like this fic when it's done 🫣

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empty-as-the-sky · 11 months

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TLDR: It’s super valid to not consume art that’s potentially super heavy or harmful to you personally for any reason and it’s also valid to just not like it but calling it bad art or thinking it’s less valid than other art because you don’t understand the purpose of art that shows morally questionable people doing morally questionable things - you know, like life - makes me really unreasonably mad.

The sheer amount of people on here and in real life who don’t get that the LITERAL POINT of some media - whether it be TV show, book, or movie - is to present complex, unlikeable characters who do morally questionable things and to show why they might do those things while still not excusing their actions - is making me go absolutely bonkers. Especially when the piece of media is self aware and doesn’t make excuses for characters’ poor choices? It’s called sociological drama, that’s the point, how boring would media be if everything was just super likeable people who always did the right thing? I don’t understand. Human beings make nonsensical, fucked up choices all the time and it makes for really interesting drama. You don’t have to agree with characters’ choices or personalities to understand why the writers did what they did and to understand why it makes good art. I don’t know why people have this bizarre idea that good characters = good art?? If it’s not your cup of tea to consume art that’s going to upset you, or you’re only into consuming light, funny stuff right now, that’s super valid! Sometimes self care is going “I can only do light stuff right now” or “I can only do light stuff forever” and both are equally valid and cool! Take care of your mental and emotional health! And it’s valid to criticize art for being damaging and not self aware, especially to marginalized communities. That’s not what I’m talking about here. But when people are like, “But the characters are terrible people who do terrible things” like it’s new information to everyone when THAT’S LITERALLY THE POINT OF THAT PIECE OF ART I just go bonkers.

Yk like, there’s a difference between saying, “this just isn’t the kind of art I enjoy consuming” and “but this is Not Good Art because the characters make choices that I don’t agree with and they aren’t likeable”. End rant I guess.

#I’m talking very pointedly about tell me lies run #can you tell #tell me lies #the literal point of the show is to show the destructive force of toxic relationships amongst a group of very young people #why are you surprised that they aren’t all likeable lol like what #also I don’t agree #obviously Stephen is a piece of literal garbage narcissistic abuser #as is his mother of course #like that’s very obvious #but everyone else mostly just seems like a flawed traumatized person who is learning how to deal with their shit #sometimes in more effective ways than others #it’s supposed to be nuanced and complicated and yea obviously Lucy’s proximity to Stephen makes her more toxic #that’s the POINT #I’m gonna scream #I haven’t seen all of season 1 yet but still it’s very self aware #I don’t know if we’ll get to see all of it but it’s also spanning a period of like 8 years and we start when these people are 18 or 20 #of course they’re going to make bad choices #besides the abusers I find it really relatable and endearing watching insecure young people make bad choices trying to fit in #this also applies to wuthering heights #and succession #and everyone seems to understand the latter pretty well

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ohbother2 · 3 months

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Lucifer x f!reader - Forced Proximity

PART II

PART I

This was supposed to come out at the weekend, but holy shit the previous part already has 1k likes so here you go a few days early.

This is just smut, no plot, you've been warned. Minors DNI.

Btw I'd love to hear your feedback! I'm not very experienced at this type of writing, so I'd love to know what you think!

(Srsly, thank you guys for the amount of love on the previous part, don't think I've ever had a piece of writing be so popular)

Tag list - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

"You know," You complain, letting him guide your face back down towards him, you prop your weight on your hands either side of his head, not allowing him to pull you into another kiss quite so soon. "you could've let him leave the door open. I'd quite like to be able to see you."

His free hand slides down from its place against your shoulder blade, and he hums contemplatively as it slowly trails down your spine, finally resting on your hip. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he looks as though he's struggling to focus.

"You can look at me later." He tries to crane his neck upward, but you're determined and turn your head slightly, his lips only finding the corner of your mouth. He groans in frustration.

Realising you weren't going to kiss him any time soon, he presses his lips against the side of your throat, giggling into your skin when you gasp in surprise. He doesn't stop though, and you feel his fangs graze against your jugular teasingly.

"Are you not uncomfortable?" Both of his hands are now on your thighs, rocking you gently.

"God, no." He mumbles against your throat, too distracted with covering the areas of sparse unblemished skin he had glimpsed when the cupboard had been opened. "I'm very happy here."

"We could've gone somewhere with more room." Your eyes close, sinking into his touch as he peppers kisses along your collarbone. You start moving your hips lightly to join his movements. He exhales deeply, one palm pressing against the small of your back to press you down onto him.

"And where would we be?" His voice is quiet, husky, and muffled against your shoulder. The question was non-commital, not expecting you to answer.

"Your desk."

He inhales sharply and his claws dig into your thighs painfully, you feel him stop breathing beneath you. His lips detach from your neck and when you glance down his wide eyes are staring straight at you, suddenly far more alert.

"Y-You," His voice audibly cracks, mind reeling at the images that assaulted him. Images that he had been burying for the past several years. He almost feels sad; he definitely should've made a move sooner. You smile at how strained he is, voice an octave higher than it should've been. His trousers were suddenly painfully tight. "should stop talking."

"Flustered?" You hum cheekily, a hand resting against the side of his face, fingers carding through his disheveled locks as you lean impossibly closer, teasing him with a kiss. His head tilts with your hand hopelessly, and you watch his eyes flutter. Your lips graze against his own and a high-pitched pathetic little sound catches in his throat. Your lips ghost away from his own, across his cheek, and finally press firmly against the crook of his jaw.

"No." He breathes deeply, but his composure falters again when one of your hands slithers between your bodies, tugging gently at his belt. He was a bad liar. "But you keep talking like that-" He gasps, high and airy, as you slowly pull the zipper down his front, fingers grazing generously at the tent in his boxers. "and this'll end before it even begins." His voice pitches and warbles when you lick a line up from the hickey you had been leaving at the juncture between his throat and shoulder.

Your hand rests teasingly against his waistband, a finger slipping just below the hem and pulling playfully. He whines, a hand gripping your hair and pulling your face up to meet him. "Please," He gasps as another one of your fingers teases at the band of his boxers. You can feel his knees spread behind you, allowing room for you to press against his upper thighs. "kiss me."

He was staring at you desperately, the hand in your hair beckoning you closer, but not forcing. Oh how you wished you could see his expression, and you wanted to punish him for not allowing the door to remain open. You catch a glimpse of his furrowed brows, barely visible in the dim light that emanated from his big eyes, and you bite your lip thoughtfully.

"Sweetheart, I'll beg if you want." You didn't doubt it, leaving your fingers pressing against his quivering stomach.

"Next time," You instruct, and you can see the way his eyes flash red at the prospect before settling back to their amber hue. "I choose where, even if that means you have to wait."

"Anything." The word is half whispered, half mumbled against your lips as you finally lean down. He doesn't waste any time, hand gripping your hair tight and forcing you closer, guiding your head to tilt to the side and forcing your lips to open. His tongue snakes its way back into your mouth, and you have to grip his hair for stability, barely able to reciprocate the bruising force of the kiss, never mind keep up. He groans again at your fingers against his scalp, he hums something incoherent, and you're only allowed a second to gasp for breath before he's pulling you in again.

You were too distracted to notice the way his free hand slithered down your body, gracefully unbuttoning and unzipping your trousers. You were even too distracted to notice the way his fingers had pulled at your underwear, but you do notice when a cool finger presses exactly where you needed it to. You moan into his mouth, and you can feel his lips smile as he rubs a small tight circle over your bundle of nerves. "Luci." You whimper as he pulls back for a breath, your damp foreheads pressed together as you try and steady your heart. He pulls you back into a kiss, muffling a whimper when two of his fingers push deeper, gliding easily against your wet folds, pressing against your entrance as his palm rubs against your clit.

"This wet already for me?" He tries to sound seductive, but the breathlessness of his chest and panting of his breath betrays him. "I've barely touched you, love." A fingertip presses in lightly, and your legs spread wider invitingly, but he pulls back to circle two fingers against your peak. He swallows your whine with another breathless kiss.

You writhe on top of him, and his hips jerk involuntarily when you plead his name against his lips. One finger finally breaches your entrance, sliding in easily, and you rut against his hand to speed up the agonisingly slow pace he was taking.

Lucifer had been playing along, grinning against your lips and flexing his fingers enticingly, showing you what he could do but not quite giving you a pace that would accomplish anything. He glides a second up alongside his first finger, and his own moan catches in his throat at the way you tighten around him. You mewl at the pleasurable stretch. Truthfully, he had been thinking ever since you had made your comment about his desk, and the many ideas he had come up with on his own whilst sat there pining after you. He had an idea. He wasn't going to let you interrupt this plan.

His fingers suddenly pull away, leaving you empty and confused, chest heaving as you sit up, staring down at him.

"Off." He pats at your thighs, tugging at your trousers and shimmying them as far as they would go. The smile in his voice was palpable, but you didn't question his sudden giddiness, lifting your hips to help him. It was a little awkward with the small space you both had, but you eventually wiggle free of the tight garment, underwear following in a heap in the corner.

You sit back against him, completely bare on your lower half whilst your top still bunched around your elbows. You lower yourself all the way, folds pressing against the tent in his boxers and grinning wickedly. He doesn't react as you'd hoped though, staring up at you with large shining eyes, admiration in their depths, as well as something else you couldn't quite distinguish, something a little more, mischievous.

Without warning he thrusts his hips up, and you nearly crash into his chest at the sudden forceful jerk. His hands grasp your bare ass firmly, claws digging into the supple flesh. You're so impossibly close to his face you can just make out the grin adorning his features.

"What are you-" You go to sit back against his hips, but his hands stop you, forcing you up instead of down. His own breathing had picked up in anticipation. You hover above him, not sure what he wanted you to do.

"Come on, sweetheart." The words slip from his lips fast and energetic, and his strong arms pull you higher up his torso, now hovering above his sternum. "I promise it'll be worth it."

"Wha-" Realisation hits you like a freight train and your breath leaves you horribly quickly. You had never done this before, and you most definitely had never had someone excitedly trying to yank you up their body. "Luci- I-I don't-"

"Please?" He pleads, and you twitch when he turns his head to place a quick peck against the inside of your knee.

"You want to-?

He doesn't even let you finish. "Yes." His hands tug you closer, inch by inch, and you tentatively let yourself be risen. "I wasn't lying earlier; would've been on my knees for hours."

The way his voice had taken on a whiny pitch had you clenching around nothing in particular, struggling to believe such a powerful man was here, on his back, desperately trying to persuade you to- to- you couldn't fathom it.

"I've never done this before." You hesitate, your nerves growing in the pit of your stomach as you stare down at his bright eyes. If you could see anything in this darkness, you'd see his ear-splitting grin and the way his tongue flicked against his lips as he positioned you. You'd also notice the way his cheeks and chest had flushed feverishly once he had realised you were actually going to let him do this. Instead, you focussed unwaveringly on his bright eyes, which constantly flicked between your face and the growing heat between your thighs.

Something in his chest jumps, knowing he'd be the first to do this to you. His mounting resolve had just solidified, you were most definitely not getting out of this now. You hover direction above him and he places a clawed hand on either of your thighs, gently coaxing you down.

"Perfect," Some of his cocky self had come back now that he was finally getting what he wanted, and his hot breath fans across your thighs as you slowly lower down, your hands grasping the shelves above your head to stabilise yourself. "just let me take care of you."

You pause your decent when you feel his hair ticking at your thighs, and he takes the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. You gasp, fingers clenching around the shelf above you, as he sucks your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. He hums, slowly licking and kissing his way towards your core. He presses a delicate kiss against your heat, and you automatically lurch upwards, but his grip around your thighs prevents you from moving at all.

You breathe deeply, and his eyes connect with yours, gently but forcefully pulling you closer.

"it's okay, sit."

You comply, albeit hesitantly, worrying for his head when he pulls you closer, your thighs flush against either side of his rosy face. You stare down at him, wide-eyed, as he stares back. Without warning another kiss presses against your folds, and you jerk again, but he had been anticipating it and his hands flex against you, rooting you in your spot and digging deliciously into the flesh of your upper thighs and hips. He kisses again, and again, each one lengthening and growing more sloppy. You pant above him and he watches your expression gleefully, finally suckling your little bud into his mouth. You jerk as he presses his forked tongue against your most sensitive spot, and a moan heaves from your chest when he grazes his teeth against you, lavishing that one particular spot with unfaltering enthusiasm.

Just as you begin to whine, hips twitching at the ministrations, he shifts lower, long tongue lolling from his mouth and licking a decisive stripe up against your entire length, parting your folds and gathering your juices on his tongue. You moan his name sinfully, and he whines, hips raising against nothing as his tongue finally delves its way into you, slithering inside your walls and licking up into your heat. You gasp in surprise: his tongue was long, sinfully so, and its forked edge delved deep as he explored.

His claws grip you tighter as you shift around, pinning your hips in place as his tongue presses against that special spot inside of you. You whine, and you can feel his teeth press against your opening as he grins, a mumbled "found it" lost against your damp flesh, tongue licking harder against that spot. His eyes close completely, brows furrowing as he concentrates, sinking into the floor and making sure to drag your hips down with him.

"Oh- Luci-" You gasp, fingers tightening against the shelf as he withdraws his tongue, sucking your clit back into his mouth like a man starved. He uses his forearms to make sure your hips stay down, hands coming to grasp the insides of your thighs and forcing them to stay apart as they threatened to twitch close. He hums against you, and the sounds of his lips against your core is downright sinful; you spread your thighs further and he groans when he realises he can reach more of you with his mouth.

"Yes, hngh, yes-" You moan, hips beginning to grind down to meet his tongue. "There-!"

"mhm" He hums in acknowledgement beneath you, grasp tightening on your thighs as he abuses your clit. His own chest was heaving as he worked, and his forehead creased as he concentrates, swirling his tongue in circles and sucking just the right amount before it became painful.

He cracks one eye open, suddenly incredibly aware of the lack of your hands against him, and he follows your twisting torso up, frowning at seeing you grip the shelving unit above his head. He doesn't stop, tongue continuing to lick its fiery trail against you, and his eye closes again as he lifts his hands from your thighs, travelling up the length of your body.

You shiver at the contact, head thrown back and eyes flickering wildly behind your eyes as you continued to grind down against him. You feel his hands travel up your shoulder blades, down your biceps, your forearms, coming to rest against your wrists with a tight grip. You allow him to pull your hands away from the shelf, and your eyes open as he draws them down to his hair, tugging them against the strands and tangling your fingers in his locks before his own claws are settling around your thighs again.

Had he just wanted you to touch him? You wonder, though it was hard to form a coherent thought as his tongue thrust into you. Experimentally, your fingers tighten against his blonde locks, and he moans hoarsely, teeth grazing your folds as he drags you impossibly closer.

This new position allowed to you to glance between your arms at his face, and you pause confused when no dim light meets you. Then, your core clenches as you realise what he was doing. You couldn't see his eyes. He had closed his eyes. The realisation has your own eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingers tighten against his hair, pulling painfully at the roots. He whines, a high-pitched cracking groan, hips jerking up voluntarily.

He carries on working his tongue against you until you dissolve into a panting mess, sweat beading down your forehead as you hips jerk against his mouth, that familiar tight coil winding quickly in the pit of your stomach. You moan weakly as he continues to abuse your cunt, and the muscles in your thighs tighten as you feel that coil suddenly tighten to its capacity.

"Luci." You warn, hands tugging at his locks so tightly that he opens his eyes to gaze up at you, a bleary pair of ruby eyes looking up at you questioningly. "S-stop, I'm close."

"nuh-uh" He hums against you, eyes slipping closed as his hands fasten their hold around you. His tongue leaves your entrance, your clit once again finding itself in his mouth as he sucks harshly. You got the message: 'no chance'.

"Luci!" Your voice raises a pitch, and your hands pull so tightly against his scalp that it hurts; he whimpers, hips shifting as he continues his ruthless pace against your heat.

"W-wait, shit-" You gasp uselessly, teetering on the edge of losing complete control. Lucifer seems to realise, and he pulls out a move that he'd been saving. His mouth opens as wide as it would allow, and his tongue slithers out and into your folds, immediately pressing against your g-spot as his upper lip closes around your clit, working the small bud between his upper lip and the base of his tongue. The double stimulation has all air forced from your lungs, and it only takes one press of his tongue against your g-spot before your crashing down from that blissful tightness. Your toes curl as he licks against your spasming walls, claws lightly breaking your skin as he wrestles your thighs to stay apart. He moans into you and you see stars, hips faltering as you let him do as he pleases.

You can't form words as he guides you through your orgasm, body tight and hunched forward, his head grasped tightly between your hands as you moan and whimper. "God." You groan as he grazes his fangs against you clit, sparks shooting up your entire spine at the oversensitivity.

When it finally ends you slump forward tiredly, hands still knotted into his hair as he presses one last longing kiss against you. He guides you down his chest with his hands until you lay flat against his chest, breathing ragged and core fluttering as you try and regain your bearings.

"Good, sweetheart?" Lucifer hums against your temple, but you can hear the shit-eating grin in his breathy voice, and you just know the he knows he was good.

"Yes." You mutter, placing a kiss at the base of his throat as you breathe deeply, heart rate beginning to come back down. "Absolutely amazing, Luci."

You can feel him shift at the compliment, a breath catching in his throat, and you arch a brow inquisitively. You prop yourself back up, and immediately place your lips over his, kissing him deeply and taking him by surprise. You can feel the wetness that coated his chin and lips, and a hand against the side of his face tells you he was practically covered in you, the skin damp and warm beneath your touch. He grunts against your lips, returning the kiss with as much excitement.

"You were so good to me." You hush against his lips when you pull away, and you grin when his breath hitches and his pupils dilate. You had him.

"We can't leave you like this, can we? Not after you were so good." You grin more when he gulps, hands landing on your hips when you shimmy down his torso, pressing your soaking heat against his still clothed, painfully-hard erection.

"Am I that easy to read?" He questions through deep breaths, a hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Just to me. I did notice how you always got so flustered at compliments." You reveal, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

You turn awkwardly, straddling him backwards as you make quick work of his trousers and boxers. You tuck your hands into the waistband and gently tug down, unable to really see what you were doing so moving carefully not to accidentally hurt something. He lifts his hips to help you, and hisses when the cool cupboard air finally reaches his throbbing cock.

Unbeknownst to you, he had grown impatient as you struggled with his hips, and pushed himself up by his elbows to gain more access to you whilst you finished sorting his trousers. You feel him kissing the back of your thigh as you push them past his knees, and you have to force yourself to breath as you finish pulling them down to his ankles.

You pull away from his reaching hands which had tried to tug you back towards his face, swatting at him playfully as you turn and reposition yourself.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." You can hear his smile as he rests back, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting against your hips, thumbs pressing into the divot of your hipbone.

You could hear his deep puffs of breath in the darkness, still trying to recover from the energy he had used when treating you, and you decide that you wanted to work him up a bit more before you rewarded him in return.

"I really wish you'd let him leave the door open." You start complaining again, resting against his thighs instead of his hips, a hand running slowly down his sternum and tickling the sticky skin that quivered under your touch. "I want to see how pretty you look like this."

He stares at you from the darkness, utterly dumb-founded, mouth agape and his breath quickening.

"Trust me, I'm a mess." He forces out a nervous chuckle, but you can feel the way his fingers flex at the compliment, and your confidence only grows.

"I don't think so." You slide your palms up either of his sides, feeling the way his lungs expand as you slowly wind your arms behind his neck, drawing yourself down closer until you can feel his nose brush against your own. "I bet you look gorgeous. More handsome than you usually look, and I can barely keep my eyes off of you normally, you're just such a pretty boy."

"W-What?" He questions quietly, breathing deep when you tilt your head and kiss against the shell of his ear. His hands fall slack against your thighs, too enraptured by your words to bother to control your movements.

"Hmm," You hum, and your warm breath against his ear has him shivering. You kiss just beneath his ear, whispering huskily. "Such a handsome man. The most powerful man in Hell, and yet he's beneath me, eager to please, letting me do whatever I want, being so good."

His cheeks burst into a fiery red at your compliments whispered against the shell of his ear, chest almost caving in with the way he struggles for breath. All he can think of is you, all he can feel is you: your hands resting against his chest and against his throat, your lips and tongue peppering their way along his angular jaw, your hair brushing his forehead as you move closer.

Your hand sneaks down his chest lazily, finally grazing against his throbbing member resting heavy against his stomach. He stutters when your fingers graze against him, and you grin into the skin on his jaw when you feel how damp he is, pre-cum covering his length and puddling across his stomach. He was already fully mast, and you hadn't even had to touch him.

"Eager?" You question, hand finally wrapping around him as he pulls you in for a heated kiss, whining into your mouth when you give a leisurely stroke, thumb swiping across his slit. His hips jerk at the small action and he bites at your lips when you grip him firmer, pulling once, twice.

"You're the Devil." He gasps against your lips, tongue already flicking out to lick across your bottom lip, fully intending to pull you into another kiss.

"I think you'll find that's actually you."

You let him snake his way into your cavern, tongue filling your mouth as you shift your hips, stroking his cock agonisingly slowly, coaxing him into position without him even knowing. You take him by surprise when he feels his tip pressing against your opening, and his eyes shoot open with his tongue still mid-way towards your throat. You grin against his lips as you sink down, sheathing him in one steady rock of your hips. A pathetic little sound screeches in his throat, eyes screwing shut at the pleasurable pressure and hands regaining their death-like grip on your hips. He whimpers against your lips when you rock your hips again, beginning to set a slow, steady rhythm.

"Oh- oh, darling." He whines the pet-name through clenched teeth, hips jerking erratically as you try and find a rhythm.

You loved the little sounds he made, and you decide to let him know, carding a hand through his tussled locks, breathing against his lips. "Such pretty little noises."

You catch a glimpse of his eyes rolling back before they're hidden behind lilac-hued eyelids, a pitiful whimper rewarding your compliment, and his hips slowly begin to match your rhythm. You attempt to sit up, to really take control, but his hand at the crook of your neck prevents you from pulling too far away from him, and he grasps desperately when he realises your attempt to pull away. You could pull away if you really wanted to, plant your hands on his chest and begin setting the pace you wanted, but his needy little whines and the way he clung to your neck has you leaning forward and succumbing to the slow and steady rhythm.

It didn't take long for Lucifer to become a panting whimpering mess, not with the way your walls clung to him so achingly, hips rolling against him in such a deliciously delightful way, and lips meeting his own like an unholy prayer.

"C-close." He warns, gasping against your lips and continuing to raise his hips to meet yours. Both of his hands grasp your hips, but he allows you to set the pace, clinging on for stability more so than control.

"It's okay, Luci." You assure him, grinding harder as you edge him towards release.

"No." You feel him shake his head, hair swishing against your jaw as he licks and sucks at your throat. A hand leaves your hip and circles around to your front, thumb pressing harshly into your sensitive clit and circling it, hard. "'m not done with you yet."

You feel his thighs spread behind you, his feet planting firmly on the floor as he thrusts harder than before, pummelling that pleasant spot inside of you with renewed urgency. He was close; he couldn't cum before you did again.

"Luci," You gasp in surprise, hands fighting to find purchase and ultimately finding their way back into his hair. The rest of your sentence dies in your throat, his thumb circling harshly against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his cock drawing pleasure from the deepest parts within.

"Come on, sweetheart, please just one more. For me." His voice was a wreck, a plea muttered between gasps and chocked-back whimpers. It was the gentlest, and yet most sultry thing you had ever heard. His desperation was palpable, his throat tight, the muscles in his neck and chest rigid, his toes curling inside his shoes as he tried to fight back the pleasure rapidly building in his stomach.

"I-I-" You don't think you can until the very last second where his dick hits that deep spot inside of you in one particularly hard thrust, and then your vision blotches around the edges as pleasure sparks from the tips of your fingers all the way to the soles of your feet, your spine rigid and hips stuttering as you moan and pant. Your body shakes with pleasure, and Lucifer silences your cries of ecstasy with his lips sealing over yours, brows furrowing as he continues to rub tight little circles over the centre of your pleasure.

Your walls flutter and spasms around him, and Lucifer grunts and groans as he tries to fight back his own high, both hands falling back to your hips as he tries to concentrate, brows knitted together and mouthing thoughtlessly against your lips. You had no chance to recover from your own orgasm, his hips stuttering up into your with a frantic urgency, thrusts sloppy and out of rhythm. His resolve completely shatters when you decide to sink your teeth into his bottom lip, and then his voice is breaking and his hips are humping pathetically as his own orgasm crashes over him.

Some attempt at your name is whimpered against your rouge lips, his arms encircling your waist fully as he pumps into you once, twice, hard aborted thrusts attempted on shaking legs. When he's finally spent, with nothing more to give, he pulls away from your lips, forehead pressing heavily against your own as he gasps in a shuddering breath, panting pathetically and gazing at you with blurred eyes.

His arms don't fall from your waist as he sinks back into the cool ground, all muscles in his body lax, the aftershocks of pleasure thrumming through his weary muscles. You lay flat against his heaving chest, fighting to catch your own breath, beginning to feel the bruising muscle of your thighs, continuing to straddle him, neither one of you wanting to pull away.

"Sweetheart," His voice is rough, and he has to clear his throat before he continues. A hand slowly slides up and down your spine as he talks, clawed fingers gentle and delicate as you shiver at the sensation. "if I'm ever as dumb as I have been for the past six years, I want you to shoot me."

You giggle at how serious he sounds, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes are upturned towards the ceiling.

"I mean it. Can't believe I waisted so much time with you because I was scared." He laughs around the last word, embarrassed and not quite believing his own sheer stupidity.

"You were scared?" You question quietly, a finger tracing an imaginary pattern against his side, your eyes closed to the world as you breathe deeply.

"Of course, look at you: you're so fun, so happy, absolutely perfect at everything you do. Hell, you even join in with my lame jokes and terrible dancing. You're too good to be true, especially down here."

"If it makes a difference, I could've acted, but I was scare too."

The cupboard falls into silence for a moment, nothing but the sounds of your slowing breathing filling the silence. His palms slide up your back slowly, claws grazing the skin lightly, teasingly, repeating the motion along the expanse of your back and hips, again and again.

"There's plenty of time to make up for lost time, we've got forever." You mumble against his chest, sighing as both of his hands massage over the bruises he had unwittingly left across your thighs. Your tone turns cheeky, and you pick your head up to look at him properly. "How long do you think we have left in here?"

He seems to take the hint, gaze snapping down towards you. You grin when you see his eyes brighten in the darkness. "Give me five minutes."

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