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razzle-n-dazzle · 3 months

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Hihi!!

Can I ask for some Adam dating headcanons?

MY MAN NEEDS LOVEE

ᯓ★ "Alright, Sugartits. You, me, you know what we're going to do." Adam / reader | Headcanons This man deserves so much more love!! >:v

ᯓ As the first man, and proclaimed original dick, Adam not only is rather obnoxious with his titles though can be rude and a bit sexist. At least, that is what you first thought when you met him all those years ago; what felt like years but had actually been a few decades.

ᯓ You first met Adam in a council meeting, having been recently promoted to sit upon the council (or having been a sinner that Charlie was trying to redeem). Either way, you were not safe from Adam and his mischievous nature and it was like he could pick out new blood in the court room like a shark closing in on it's prey. You had been minding your business at first, settling yourself before you heard the sound of large wings flapping in your direction and a pair of footsteps landing behind you. Followed by another, smaller pair. The marble floor wasn't great in hiding their landing, but you guessed they weren't trying to be sneaky the moment that Adam had opened his mouth.

ᯓ "Shit, you're the new guy that Sera was talking about? Man, you're even shorter than I thought you were, Babe." Adam would laugh, jutting out his arm to measure the height comparison between you and him. You would turn around to this, and was quickly unamused by his antics. "Adam, I presume?" You would mumble back to him, face dropped in annoyance that he didn't seem to pick up on. He just seemed rather overly excited that you had knew his name. "Oh fuck! Mortal souls still talk about me down there on Earth? Well, I wouldn't expect anything else I fucking rock."

ᯓ He was pretentious, that was the best word you could describe him as. Rude, arrogant, obnoxious, pretentious. He boiled your blood anytime he opened his stupid mouth and you often just wanted to shove your hand down his throat just to rip it out. He would constantly barge into your office and appear behind you in court just to annoy you and see "what you're working on," since he's technically "your boss" and he just doesn't see anything "wrong with it". You've had to shove him out of your office so many times; had even complained to your superiors about his behavior and yet no one seemed to take you seriously. They would shrug their shoulders (especially Sera) and just claim: "That was Adam" and you just had to "deal with it." Oh and that made you want to punch the little fucker even more.

ᯓ Your 'professional relationship' with Adam started off extremely rocky and you tried your best to avoid him in the halls and courtroom at all cost. The less you had to see him, the less you had to hear about him, the less your had to hear him or even stand to be near him, the better.

ᯓ And Adam noticed. He noticed really quickly actually.

ᯓ Not like it was hard to notice, you basically avoided him at all costs. Taking another hallway if you saw or heard him coming down one, shoving past him if he tried to block your path, ignoring him if he tried to talk to you, and so much more that he brushed off. Constantly, you heard him turn to Lute and point at you, jokingly telling her: "It must be that time of the month." With his stupid grin and cheesy smile. (Does this even if you are male) And you thought it was just him trying to get under your skin and annoy you into talking to him again; or even acknowledging his presence. You also had a hunch that it was him trying to save his 'precious little ego' that makes him so insufferable to be near.

ᯓ Yet, it was odd. For how much you hated, no loathed Adam, you couldn't get his stupid face and idiotic voice out of your head when you were along, shrouded in the dead of night. Especially on nights like tonight: Where you were sat along in your office, the chimes of midnight ringing along Heaven, as night clouded and contaminated the once gleaming city of day. You were leaning over your desk, trying to finish an assignment given to you by Sera; an assignment that was important to your continuation of climbing the council ladder. And yet all you could hear was that stupid fucker's voice in your head constantly. His remarks, his tone, his- ugh! His stupid, stupid voice why couldn't it just leave you alone.

ᯓ Why couldn't he just leave you alone?

ᯓ . . . but, dammit, why did you feel comforted by the thought?

ᯓ In reality you shouldn't be, you should never feel comfortable around a prick like Adam who only searches for one thing in women; sex, ass, and tits. Three things, okay, but it's all in the general same category. He was the man who would be at the top of your hitlist, if you could have one in heaven, yet his voice was the only thing keeping you up right now; Letting you fight off sleep for another night and finish this report sooner than Sera said she wanted it just to show her how capable you are. And as you continued to scribble away, letting the moon crescent slip back under the clouds to let it's sister sun peak over with it's gleaming light, it hit you. And the realization of WHY hit you hard, and the truth made you stop in your tracks. The final period to end your assignment taunting you along with your thoughts:

ᯓ Somehow, someway, you had started to grow a crush on that fucker.

ᯓ Somehow, by some grace (more like punishment), of God did you begin to harbor something other than loathing for Adam. For the annoying Adam who constantly picked you out in a room and came over to talk to you. The Adam, which you never noticed, began to grow more tolerable even if you kept up your act of avoiding him. The Adam, who constantly comes in to see what your doing but then asks you a million and one questions, not because he cares about your work but because in some twisted sense in his mind, that's him caring about you or trying to get to know you. The Adam who called you Sugartits and Babe all in your first 2 seconds of meeting. "Fucking Adam.." You would grumble under your breath, slamming your pen down to finish that last period as a mix of emotions boiled in your blood.

ᯓ "Fuck me? Kinky, but what the fuck did I do to you, I just got in!" Shit. Well, this is such a great start in trying to get to know Adam better. (I hope you can hear the sarcasm that is basically pooling on the floor)

ᯓ Yet, somehow, no matter how rocky the situation ship started, somehow Adam had a big enough of an ego to see it through and you had gained enough patience to put up with his bullshit. And trust me when I say, you need either need to match his energy, yet in a more responsible way, or have enough patience to deal with this man or your drowning under his egoistical bullshit. (Adam needs a Hispanic wife desperately. /j)

ᯓ For the most part, your relationship is actually rather lovely. Most wouldn't believe it, seeing as Adam is.. well Adam, but you were able to see the weirdly good intentions behind his rather questionable and problematic choices. As for such, when he had gone to Sera to start the extermination, during the whole meeting all he could think about was keeping you safe. What was the best way to keep you safe? How could he keep you from being entranced by Lucifer or Lilith and their sin and evil? He didn't want to lose you like he lost Eve and Lilith. Sure, he joked about being a fuckboy and a player (at least that's how he comes off) yet he never has actually touched anyone after Eve. He was waiting for someone, someone like you, to capture his attention and soon after his heart; and he chased after you and he was going to keep you, and he was going to protect you if it was the last thing he did. Because as much as Adam hates to admit it, he is terrified to be alone; to live all the rest of his immortality by himself, going home to an apartment with no one to share the warmth and feeling that empty wound in his heart.

ᯓ Adam, on the lighter note, is also the type of man who will go to a restaurant with you and claim he'll try something new; i.e. lobster. You had known, at an instant, that it would go wrong and decided to order any sort of red meat you could find that you knew Adam would like. And, wouldn't you know it, when you two got the food he couldn't bare eating that lobster. So, you offered to switch your plates and he was more than happy to. You don't think he's caught on yet, but you'll keep it a secret just to be able to see the excited grin he gets before snatching your plate with a "Thanks Babe!" and even kissing you later.

ᯓ You learn very quickly the only way to get Adam to start cleaning around the house is to either A) let him play his guitar for you, to simulate that he's helping by giving you motivation (and swooning over his voice a little) or B) playing music similar to that Adam plays (like AC/DC, Imagine Dragons, anything Indie-rock) and give him small tasks to do that slowly equate to one larger task. And then, of course, there is always his favorite option C) hug your waist and make it impossible for you to clean your shared apartment as he basically speaks dirty into your ear with his classical snicker.

ᯓ You're guys sex life is amazing though, Adam makes sure of that (so that cunt Lucifer can't take you from him like he did Lilith and Eve, through 'temptation'). But, honestly, you're the only person he has given head to or has eaten out, pick your choice. Either way, man goes crazy if you tug on his hair or tell him you won't ever leave him.

ᯓ The first time you saw Adam with his mask off was an experience, both for you and for him. For a long, long time Adam kept his mask on around you, even while in private, and you've always asked why he did so but he would never give you a straight answer and would brush around it. You often chalked it up to be a comfort thing for him, to make him feel stronger than he actually was and you didn't bother him much. Yet one day, you got oh so curious about what his face was like under the mask that you couldn't help yourself: Sitting next to Adam outside on the balcony, you listened as he prattled on about his work day all the while he ate. He was having some burgers you had cooked for him before he got home, as he exclaimed about, "These bitches don't know who the fuck they were talking to! I mean, hello, I'm fucking Adam I'm the dick master and I would have fucked them into next Friday! I'm like 10 times cooler and stronger than them, bitches thought they could come into the exorcists and make fun of me, well I-..." Adam paused unnaturally, a confusion sweeping over his digitalized golden-accented features. "Babe, what the fuck are you doing?" He would add on no more than 5 seconds later, noticing had you had moved from your seat and basically were straddling him right now. Though you didn't hear him, well you did but you shut it out as soon as he opened his mouth again; "You know, this is making me fucking hard right now and if you just wanted your sweet little insides-" "Adam." You hushed him as his arms wrapped around your waist and brought you closer. There was no missing the way his eyes widened in suprise at your sterner tone. Though his grin returned, another crude comment about to slip from his lips before he hushed again; Doing so as your hands had meet and cupped his cheeks in such an oddly tender way. And Adam had a hunch what you wanted to do, or well what you wanted to see, and he felt those same nerves churn in his stomach again anytime this topic was brought up. Yet, no matter how much he noticed the want in your eyes, you didn't ask him. All you simply did was lean towards him and place your forehead against his, closing your eyes. And all Adam could do was stare at you, stare at your beauty in the light of the setting sun, and feel those nerves slowly string loose. And he felt safe; for the first time in a long, long, time he felt safe. "Babe.." And his voice cracked, causing your eyes to shoot open with worry. You drew away from Adam, your hands darting down to his shoulders as you wondered if you had somehow offended or harmed him. Yet all he did was smile softly at you as his wings fluffed out, basking in the light for a moment, before encapsulating the both of you. He was hesitant, his eyes drawing away from you as he took a moment to gather himself before he pulled off the mask for the first time. And you swore, in that moment, you somehow both practically died again and fell for him. "Oh shit.." You would mumble, catching Adam's attention rather quickly. You saw the worry contort on his face, "You've been hiding this handsome face from me, Adam what the fuck?! I would have much rather look at this than your fucking mask when you were blowing my brains out you b-" "Woah babe," Adam's hand rushed up and covered your mouth. You saw his scheming smirk playing onto his lips, "I can fuck you now if you want to, but I thought we were having a moment! Look at you, ruining it this time instead of me!~"

ᯓ Oh the fucking tease.

ᯓ Adam isn't perfect, far from it, but you aren't either. You honestly probably help each other over come traumas of the past and heal together. After all, you're both just a burning pile of hot mess, so why not be a burning pile together?

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ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

(Hope this was good! :D I haven't written since I had gotten sick and writer's fog/block, so this might be a little more shaky than my regular work. I would appreciate any constructive critiques you may have!)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #not proof read #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #god help me please #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin headcanons #x reader #headcanons / ooc.#headcanons #there is swearing and sex jokes in this my god #help

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othercrossee · 1 year

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#z rants #NOT MAD ANYMORE ITS JSUT FUNNY TO ME NOW #okay i eed to actually ramble about this cuz i ended up laughing reading shit on twt about how what he said was a mistranslation #ill be censoring his name cuz i dont aant it leak into the tag and i dont want yall pieces of shit to argue with me #a fat person who can comprehend what he said and how it cpuld come across despite it not being his intention 👍#also cuz as a fan for 5 years who love these guys a lot but still see them as human who can very much do wrong and judge them for that #yall bow to these bitches a little too much like they arent grown ass men who are being idolized by many its so crazy #first of all. an apology is so easy idk why u think he csnt comprehend what he said or refuse to answer but sure #lets get into it #amother thing is yall must be some pretentious little cunts telling people to apologizs to hao instead #i do want cunts who were bodyshaming him in recent news to do that whatever but. people who r rightfully mad?#they have the rights to be idc what wrong translation when u read at the sentence throughly it stil came off....weird #lets not make this into a personal issue thing we all know the industry is filled with fatphobic cunts whos awaiting the moment to say sum #so what he said is apparently * they need to stop esting but i cannot say it thoughtlessly. because whatever your body type is-#you just need to love yourself* which is understandable mind u. id say this is an okay answer #but i do think the way he just word this shit is so bad like u didnt nedd to add the first part my god 😭😭😭 sir 😭😭#he meant well mind u i do think he does but its just craazyyyy #* they need to stop eatinf but i csnt say it thoughtlessly* just dont say it then bro 😭 not that hard #do u not see the undertone of that? EVEN IF that wasnt hsi intention #thats another one of fatphobia undertone babey! csnt say it thoughtlessly. god thats so good man #so if u were to say it thoughtfully what would it be then? they ened to eat healthier?#let me repeat this. no matter which is his intention. he should still be educated about this more #especiallh coming from a person like him with skinny priviledge and in an industry so filled with hate for fat people #twt bitches r a bunch of bootlicking little bitches be serious for once yall r too dramatic idk laugh a little #*theyre attacking him! apologize!* we r asking a 25 yo man to be accountable for what he said as an idol with milliosn of fan #who all comprehend his answer differently and how that answer could mean when u think of fatphobia rhetoric 😁#twt carat dni yall cannot think st all its sk crazy that the first thing i saw was someone being so emotional about the whole issue #and how the people who r mad should rethink this snd spologize and r fake fans #must be so much to not use your brain at all like them #grown ass man accidentally says sth fatphobic and csnr even apologize a little bit when we all kmow its get swept under the rug anyways

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strawberryoc · 1 year

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i was a bit worried about the influx of Twitter uses because I mean they're twitter users, but then I realized that spreading drama on here is like. Literally impossible. Unless it's something insane like the bone thief or whatever then it wont gain much traction.

#not to be like. whats it calles. pretentious or whatever.#nobody is better than twitter users because they dont use twi #okay i just typed that out and realized that lkterally ANYTHING is better than using twitter. saying thaf as someone who does use twitter.#i also just realized a lot of information about politics comes? from twitter?#like political accounts are on there and they interact with the general populace (most of the time for the worse)#but on here we have like two celebrities and every other one was ran off the website by rabid users #like howre they gonna spread shitty political takes now. on their aestheric tumblr blog. lmao #maybe theyll go to facebook or whatever alternative they came up with out of their ass but lets b real thats not reaching very many people #lmao rip i guess

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lisafication · 7 months

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This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game.

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her!

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling.

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?!

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle!

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to.

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him.

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #andrew graves #ashley graves #spoilers #multipost

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

Text

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films.

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down.

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since.

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job.

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before.

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face.

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air.

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow.

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left.

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again.

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films.

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!”

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously.

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him.

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly.

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence.

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant.

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open.

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies.

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies.

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it.

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again.

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them.

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant.

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door.

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What -- the hell are you doing here?”

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time.

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity.

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work.

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.”

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more.

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you.

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you.

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him.

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive.

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply.

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off.

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch.

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants.

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas.

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy.

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him.

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on.

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing.

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day.

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh.

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck.

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started—

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.”

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register.

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time.

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass.

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer.

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him.

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth.

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled.

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you.

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching.

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch.

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin.

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release.

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him.

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.”

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you.

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust.

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch.

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips.

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin.

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings.

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail.

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl.

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole.

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better.

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing.

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.”

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly.

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure.

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you.

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you.

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit.

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet.

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter.

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too.

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go.

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed.

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again.

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable.

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole.

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately.

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously.

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you.

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex.

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…”

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right.

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly.

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice.

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length.

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis x reader

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part one.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 505,281 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername a smiley lando is the best lando in my books! to celebrate the end of the 2023 season, here's a handful of my favourite photos from throughout the year!

view all 3,171 comments

mclaren What a happy lad! We can't wait to see that smile again in 2024 😁🧡

↳ yourusername you and me both! 🤝🧡

user she's got the dream job omg

↳ user IKR??? imagine just getting to follow lando around and take pictures of him all day, i'd be dead within the first hour

↳ user he'd smile at me and i'd be asking “what are we” on god 😩😩😩

↳ user is that literally all she does??? she just follows him around and takes pictures??

↳ user there’s probably a technical term for what her position is and i just don’t know it, but bc there’s so much going on around the track at any given moment, sometimes the press and other media workers are focused on something or someone else, so she’s hired on by mclaren to specifically focus on mclaren to make sure that there is content for mclaren or mclaren sponsors to use. she’s not just lando’s photographer, she also takes photos of oscar, the pit teams, and the other staff that work in the garage, but she was hired on when lando started so her portfolio is pretty full of him. hope this helps!

user didn't know i could need so much orange in my life but here we are

user LANDO NORRIS SUPREMACY

oscarpiastri i see who the favourite is 🫤

↳ yourusername you literally SAW me picking photos for your post too

↳ oscarpiastri yeah but you posted his first 🫤

user guys this is the face of the 2024 wdc winner take it in now

user i could write a 50 page thesis on the importance of these photos and what they mean to me and how the serotonin they make me release could replace my depression meds

user lad’s like a mini danny ric with how smiley he is

landonorris best photog right here folks

↳ yourusername you're only saying that bc i always get your good side

↳ landonorris i'll have you know that all sides are my good sides 🤨

↳ yourusername whatev helps you sleep at night luv 😊

In 2019, when you took on the job of being McLaren’s lead photographer, you hadn’t expected it would garner you the amount of attention it has, or that it would slingshot your career to levels of success you never could have anticipated, or that you would get a best friend out of it.

When you first met him back in those early days, you’d thought Lando Norris was an arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous prick who thought he was hot shit because he was a Formula One driver. However, he’d quickly proven you wrong when he’d admitted to you that a lot of the confidence was an act━ carefully constructed to hide his insecurities about his performance both on and off the track.

“I mean, we’re drivers, yeah?” He’d said. “But we’re also actors. We’ve got these personas that we have to uphold even out here on the paddock, and I’m always worried I’m not playing the part well enough.”

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to you then, you thought he was pulling off the persona of Total Douche remarkably well, but in Shanghai, things changed.

After the Chinese Grand Prix, things were dour. Lando had DNFed━ the first in his Formula One career━ which contrasted greatly with his previous accomplishment of P6 in Bahrain. Carlos Sainz hadn’t been doing very well, either, and it didn’t paint a very pretty picture for McLaren so early in the season. You’d thought he’d throw a hissy fit, tear Daniil Kvyat apart for his role in the crash, or at the very least throw some shade his way, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d accepted his fate with grace, joked to the media about how boring the race had been because of what had happened, and then gone on to congratulate Carlos for at least finishing.

What was even more shocking, was that despite his disappointment and the frustration he must’ve been feeling, instead of going back to sulk in his lonesomeness or drown out his feelings with booze and loud music at some club, he’d comforted you later that evening.

The morning of the race, as you’d been getting ready in your hotel room, you’d gotten a text from an unsaved number admitting to you that they’d been taking part in a months-long affair with your boyfriend but had been previously unaware that he was already taken and therefore wanted to let you know to clear their conscience. You’d managed to hold yourself together then━ mostly because you’d already done your makeup and, quite frankly, didn’t have the time to sob it all off and then attempt to salvage it━ but as the day drew to a close and the adrenaline of the race and its excitement wore off, and with nothing else to keep you distracted, you were struggling to keep yourself composed.

Lando had somehow noticed in that weirdly perceptive way of his that something was off, and he’d sat with you, asked what was wrong, and listened when you━ through tears━ explained the situation to him.

“He sounds like a total fucking muppet,” he’d commented after you’d said your piece, and he’d done it with such a deadpanned expression that it had startled a genuine laugh out of you. Because yeah, you’re (now ex) boyfriend had been a muppet.

After that━ and after all the rom-com and ice cream binging you’d both done in his hotel room afterward much to the chagrin of Lando’s nutritionist and the displeasure of his PR officer━ you’d rescinded your initial judgment of him. He was significantly less dickish than you’d originally thought, and it let you finally understand what he’d meant when he’d talked about putting on a persona.

The cocky, know-it-all prick that Lando pretended to be half the time was all just an act to hide his overly self-critical nature fueled by his insecurities.

By the end of the season, he’d gained a little confidence of his own and had subsequently toned down the assholery when he no longer needed to “fake it til he makes it,” and you were calling him your friend.

It’s 2023 now, and he’s since been upgraded to best friend status━ a role he takes very seriously, and constantly reminds you of.

“I’m your best friend━” case and point, “━you have to come to Bali with me. Literally, like, what am I gonna do without you there? Do you expect me to just go by myself? What if I get lost? Or what if somehow the mafia, who have unknowingly had a hit out on me for years, track me down there and I’m kidnapped and ransomed off for billions of dollars? What will you do then?”

“You just want me to take pictures of you,” you answer, rolling your eyes only because you know he can’t see you through the phone.

He gasps in mock offense. “I cannot believe you think I value you so little! I want you to take pictures of me and be here to help me make fun of awkward tourist spray tans so I don’t feel like a total asshole for being the only one who laughs.”

You laugh at that. “Well, unfortunately laughing at bad fake tans doesn’t pay the bills.”

“But taking pictures of me does.”

“Yeah, when McLaren is paying.” You turn back to your laptop, a photo put on pause mid-edit splayed across the screen. It’s of Lando, as most of your photos tend to be despite your attempts at keeping things even between the McLaren boys. It’s the last of the images you need to send over for their 2023 sendoff, and when it’s finished you’ll officially be without work for a painstaking two months. “I’m on break too, technically, until they need promotional shit for the new season.”

He huffs, and you can almost imagine the childish pout on his face. “What are you even doing, then?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want Lando to know about your winter plans, but because you don’t really know how he’ll react, which means it could be anything between genuine happiness for you and congratulations, or abject horror and feigned screams of anguish. He’s always been dramatic like that, but even more so now that he’s comfortable enough with you and himself to have crawled a decent way out of his shell.

Even still, he’s your best friend and it would make you a pretty shitty person if you didn’t tell him.

“Believe it or not,” you start, wringing your hands together, “but Manchester City actually hit me up with an inquiry. Asked if I’d be interested in working with them on a project documenting their training throughout the winter months. I said I would love to.”

He pauses for a good long moment, and you prepare for the screaming, but all he says is━ “Man City? You traitor. I thought Man United was our forever!”

“Be so fucking real right now, Lando Norris,” you answer, laughing as you do so. You’re relieved, at least he hasn’t gone the feigned anguish route, but you also can’t tell if he’s happy for you or hiding his true feelings behind humor like he’s prone to doing. “You know damn well you only watched them for Christiano Ronaldo and he hasn’t played with United since 2009.”

“Technically he played for them in the 2021-2022 season,” he grumbles.

“Yeah,” you deadpan, “and he was dogshit. We both agreed to pretend it never happened.”

He groans, “I can’t believe this. My day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.”

“Oh, get over yourself. It’s only for the winter. I’ll be back in McLaren Papaya by February when they need me snapping shots of you and Oscar next to the new livery,” you promise.

The reality is that it’ll probably be sooner. McLaren has always been good about getting you back at HQ pretty quickly, either to get some snapshots of the beginning of Lando and Oscar’s pre-season return or to just capture some material of the engineers at work to promote their readiness. You understand why they can’t keep you around all year━ no Lando and no Oscar means no you━ and with the sheer amount of content you capture and edit for them throughout the season, they’ve got enough to last them the handful of weeks you aren’t working.

Unfortunately, you aren’t working with a driver’s salary to keep you sustained over the break and rent certainly hasn’t been getting cheaper. In past years, your bank account has been chirping with crickets when you’ve returned to work after the winter, and that was before your landlord had decided to make your life a living hell.

You have an important job, but it’s by far the most important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Working in sports media taught you that early on.

“Who knows?” Lando’s voice snaps you back. “Maybe Jack Grealish with his perfect hair and perfect calves will steal you away and you’ll be in sky blue forevermore.”

You laugh, “Jack Grealish is a happily taken man, and although he does have perfect hair and perfect calves, I’m more of a Haaland girl anyway.”

He guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re so far gone that you already have a preferred player. Jack Grealish is England’s poster boy! Everyone loves him whether they like City or not!” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Christ, I can already feel you slipping through my fingers. I give it a week over there at Etihad before you call me up telling me I can find a new best friend because you’ve replaced me with Phil Foden and Julian Alvarez.”

“For someone who supposedly hates Manchester City, you’re certainly well-versed in their roster.”

“Well duh, I need to know my competition,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“Ah, yes,” you snark back sarcastically. “Because you, a Formula One driver, have to be worried about the football players of Manchester City.”

“Apparently I do if you’re calling yourself a Haaland girl now!”

You burst into cackles and he’s following shortly after with chuckles of his own that eventually peter out into a comfortable silence. You are really going to miss him for the few months you aren’t working with him.

The Formula One schedule is so jam-packed across the season that it typically means you’re getting to see him every day for an hour or two at least, if not for the entirety of the time he’s at the track. You follow him and Oscar to their sponsor obligations, their interviews, and everything in between. It’s honestly rare if you’re not getting a moment to goof off and dick around with one another━ and it’s even rarer for you to not actually see one another face to face in passing at the very least.

The off-season is your least favorite time of the year for this very reason, and though it makes you feel a bit full of yourself to think so, you imagine Lando doesn’t enjoy this time of year much either for the same reason.

“I promise I won’t replace you with any of the City boys,” you say after the silence has stretched on a moment longer.

He huffs again, but you can envision the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even if you do, I’ll just show up to a match and steal you away again.”

“As if. Have you seen Grealish’s calves?”

INSTAGRAM.

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footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward caught with mysterious woman revealed to be well-known Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The two were seen sharing a romantic evening on Friday, the 5th of January, ringing in a passionate start to 2024. Garrett Ward has been with Manchester City since 2021 but was out on loan to a lesser-known Championship League team until 2023. He has just recently begun to play for his team again, but an injury early into the season has seen him benched for a majority of his time back. Y/N L/N is a photographer for Formula One racing team McLaren and has been working with them since 2019. Recently, she has been working with Manchester City to help promote a new docuseries following the men’s team’s winter training. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

view all 12,971 comments

user OMG GARRETT WARD??? NOTORIOUS BACHELOR GARRETT WARD???

user who is she? like genuinely how is she relevant 🤔

↳ user no literally cuz like who even gives two shits about formula 1?

user girl works in f1 why can’t she stay there

↳ user i’m sure there are plenty of drivers who’d smash her idk why she needs to try and get footballers too like bffr 😒😒😒

user aint no way this bitch is kissing my man rn

user literally what does he even see in her??? she’s not even cute AND she’s wearing man united colors 💀💀

user Y/N L/N??? I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS???

↳ user LITERALLY ME TOO?? like she posts him all the time on insta so i just kinda thought they were an item or smth?? trouble in paradise maybe

user she’s fucking ugly wtf

user i wish these footballers who get with regular women would realize there are so many better girls out there that would ACTUALLY treat them well and would support them in their careers. like i bet this girl doesn’t even know anything about football. she works in f1 and that’s where she should stay bc nobody cares about that shit round here. she probably doesn’t even know the first thing about how football works, but i bet she’ll be at matches pretending like she knows what’s happening. garrett ward is gonna flush his career down the troilet for this chick bc she’s gonna convince him his busy schedule ain’t worth it and then city will be down a great forward for good, and it’ll all be her fault

user i mean she’s kinda pretty tbf

↳ user stfu she really isn’t

↳ user she gen looks like any random bitch off the street

user these comments are not it…. 😬

↳ user maybe you f1 fans just don’t know how to handle constructive criticism

↳ user is the constructive criticism in the room with us rn?? cuz all i’m seeing is bullying and hatred directed towards an innocent woman who’s only “crime” was going on a date

user ok so she can take photos?? 🙄🙄 maybe she should get a real job

↳ user she’s probably only with him so she can mooch off of him like a fucking gold digger

user AINT NO WAYYYYYY

user it’ll last a month max 😌 i’m calling it

user ayo lando come get your girl

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette

━━ a/n: here we have it! took me a bit longer than the start of american smile did, but lando's story is officially here! (and it's a whopping 2.9k words to start us off). first and foremost, before we get started, garrett ward is 100% an oc and obviously does not play for manchester city, and this is bc i would feel absolutely horrible portraying a real person in the way that garrett will be later on. gather from that what you will haha! regardless, i hope you enjoy this first part and stick around for the rest!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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animentality · 11 months

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Dude I'm so confused

Why are the redditors refugees here-

Whats up with the tag 196

AND WHY IS EVERYONE BEING SO NICE WITH THE TWITTER REFUGEES CAME WE GAVE THEM HELL (almost)

The Reddit refugees are here because several subreddits have gone private in protest of reddit's new policy of charging third party developers for access to its API.

Hence the term reddit blackout.

196 specifically was a very queer friendly subreddit that had one rule: that you post before you leave. 196 is trending because those Redditors have come here and they're basically sharing their memery here instead as they protest reddit's greed.

As for why we're welcoming them when Twitter refugees were seen with a little more irritation, well.

Think of the culture similarities.

Tumblr and reddit have far more in common than Tumblr and Twitter.

Twitter is about clout and manipulating algorithms and discourse in 280 characters or less. It's about bad takes that reach the right people and it forces you to see things you don't want to see and it's crawling with the worst people imaginable and you're forced to see them, all the time. They also brought bad tagging and 2016 Tumblr discourse with them, because Twitter culture really involves starting fights for clout and braindead opinions that no one really wants to come back to Tumblr culture.

There was a time when Tumblr did the same thing, but worse, with more words...but nowadays, it's really calmed down.

The worst people...went to Twitter after the porn ban. Ironically, it made the site less toxic and hostile.

But then they came back.

And it was like...hm. no thanks. Stay back where you came from.

But Tumblr and Reddit have much more in common.

Both have a more streamlined way of customizing your online feed. You can choose what subreddits you see on your home screen, just like Tumblr only shows you the content of your followers, on your dashboard, and in chronological order rather than what's trending. You can join a very specific weird niche group of freaks with a shared obsession, and not care about the rest of the site at all. You also don't have a character limit on either site, which lets you ramble more and share weird detailed stories.

Reddit might have karma, but like Tumblr, the majority of people are lurkers and not posters. It also allows you to downvote bad opinions, and moderators who have to adhere to certain guidelines of behavior, which means a lot of banning disruptive people.

Granted, sometimes their mods are power hungry, but. You know.

It does more to control its users than Tumblr do, and that's a good thing in terms of keeping toxicity and illegal shit off its subs.

Reddit also has a way more leftwing attitude than you would think.

It has a reputation for being full of incels but I honestly think that's outdated.

It's cleaned up its act quite a bit since the old days.

I see way more vile shit from Twitter and TikTok. Like seriously.

Twitter is crawling with conservative bots and propaganda machines and just outright inflammatory lies. TikTok literally has the worst comment sections I've ever seen, like edgy teenagers cracking racist and misogynistic humor and acting like it makes them different and special. Its algorithm also spoon feeds you garbage and is designed to be as addicting as possible.

At least reddit's culture, while chauvinistic and regressive in certain subcultures, is mostly on the tech positive, atheist libertarian side.

It can be a little pretentious and caustic about certain subjects, and a little full of itself. Some reddits are also very male leaning and disregard female concerns in favor of moaning about how men have it worse than anyone else on earth.

But for the most part?

...well.

I welcome them here, because if they left reddit in protest, then we always support protests. But 196 specifically is also a queer subreddit, and we support that even more.

Plus they're funny as fuck.

What's not to like, really?

You should welcome them with open arms too.

#reddit blackout #196

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

hai semi long time lurker first time asker

may i request a little luci drabble, perchance maybe him and reader out somewhere, and when he starts acting up (that man is a brat and ill die on this hill) reader has to pull him off to the side and...correct him, all while he whines about "i wasn't being that bad" and "please be nice to me" even tho he was being that bad and he does not deserve kindness 😞🙏🏽

ANYWAY EVEN IF U WRITE THIS OR NOT I LOVE UR WORKS SM I CLAW AT THE WALLS WAITING 4 UR POSTS UR SO TALENTED N I ASPIRE TO BE YOU

idk if this one has been used but

-⛈️

a/n — Lucifer content I love you so much. Anyways I love brat Lucifer reuther’s thank you.

summary — After a particularly bratty attitude from Lucifer in public, you pull him off to the side and reach him a lesson on manners.

warnings — semi-public sex, sub Lucifer, dom reader, hand jobs, degradation

It hadn’t been a big deal, really. But god, did it piss you off. Lucifer, who was probably one of the most insecure men you’ve ever been with, acted so oddly high and mighty around his citizens.

Which would have been understandable, he was the king of hell, after all. However, sometimes his uppity attitude got to you.

Like right now. One friendly looking sinner had simply approached you two at a restaurant. They weren’t threatening, nor did they try to steal anything as you were watching their hands the whole time.

However, despite the rare friendly attitude from the demon, you saw something strange in your boyfriend. He was rude, and no, he probably didn’t realize he was, but that didn’t change the fact he was not kind to the demon at all.

For a moment, all the stranger got was a blank stare. One that lasted far too long, and in the end, felt pretentious and almost accusing. The stare felt so rude, it struck you to your core.

Afterwards, instead of a smile, which you had to admit was attempted, he simply sneered and looked side to side uncomfortably. When the demon asked for an autograph, he cleared his throat and muttered something about how he ‘doesn’t understand who would want an autograph from the devil, but alright.’

His tone was playful, but had an undertone of all knowing prestige that irked you. It made him seem like a pompous rich brat, you didn’t like that.

Finally, the sinner shook his hand, thanked him and left. The worst part was the aftermath.

Lucifer wiped his hand off, wiped his hand off, on the nearest napkin and turned to you with an awkward smile, “Can you believe that? Weirdo, amiright? Should probably check my pockets for my wallet!”

Although Lucifer laughed, it faded quickly after he noticed how you were not laughing.

“…uh, something wrong, dear?” he asked hesitantly, already growing nervous at your less than positive response to his ‘joke.’

You stare at him for another moment before breathing, “Bathroom, now.”

Less than gently, you pull him by his arm to the bathroom, receiving a few stares from other people on the area. Luckily, the restaurant was crowded. And besides, the loud background noise would come in handy soon.

Tugging him into an empty restroom, you begin to scold him, “Do you even know how much of a dick you just acted like?”

“What?” Lucifer seemed extremely perplexed at your accusation.

“The way you treated that sinner?” You hiss, backing him into a wall, staring down at him with angry dissatisfaction.

“Oh come on,” he crossed his arms and glared up at you, “Those people are just the worst. I was being nice!”

Your knee slipped in-between his legs subtly so he didn’t notice at first. “You were being a pompous brat,” you not-so-subtly use your hand to pin him closer to the wall, completely pressed up against you.

Lucifer stared up at you and gulped, awaiting your next move.

“And you know what happens to brat,” you hiss in a whisper, “They get punished.”

You weren’t sure what was making your usually obedient Lucifer act out tonight, but whatever it was, he doubled down.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” his irritation was apparent, “you’re overreacting— fuck!”

You palm his dick through his pants and Lucifer moans loudly. Although, he remembers his environment and shuts himself up by biting his lip and glaring up at you.

With a knowing smile, you tug his pants and boxers down, eyes meeting his as you pull his cock out.

“Oh, you piece of shit,” he groans quietly as his eyes dart to the side, blush rising in his cheeks.

“Uh-huh, keep talking. See where it gets you,” you condescend, beginning to stroke his dick at an agonizingly slow pace.

His hand shoots up to cover his mouth as he lets out a gravely whimper.

“Remember where you are Lucifer. It’s rude to cause a scene,” you smirk as your hand speeds up, “but you wouldn’t know that.”

“Oh god—“ his moan is muffled as he stares at you through furious half lidded eyes, “Oh, fuck you.”

Your hand shoot straight to the base of his cock and back, and you tut softly, “Someone has an attitude problem tonight. I outta teach you some manners.”

He whines, shaking his head vigorously as his other hand comes up to press down on his mouth as well.

The circumstances were more than upsetting, he couldn’t be loud, others might hear. But doing this was a risk in itself. You weren’t even in a stall. If anyone walked in on you two he would have to look at their shocked expression.

He let out a choked moan at the thought, “Be nice to me, please I didn’t—“

Your hand speeds up once more, “Oh? Because just a second ago you were calling me a piece of shit.”

He whines, clearly frustrated at the whole situation. Your movements are aggressive and your words are condescending. Oh, how he hated when you were mad at him.

But your actions irritated him slightly. Had he really been that bad? In his eyes, he still wasn’t convinced.

The way your hand moved, though, was clogging up his thoughts, making it harder to be upset. Still, he clung onto coherence.

“You’re so— fuck. You’re so mean,” he whined into his hands, looking up at you with much less malice than before.

“And you’re a pretentious brat,” You remark, feeling precum leak onto your hand, “So I guess we’re both in moods tonight.”

He moaned loudly, leaned further up against the wall and squirming desperately, still being pinned down by your free arm.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered as he felt his climax building, “I’m sorry, fuck. Can I please cum now?”

“Shush, Lucifer,” you make an obvious movement of glancing around, “You forget yourself. Wouldn’t want anyone hearing how much of a slut you are.”

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he fought to contain himself. It was agonizing how much he was holding back right now. From cumming, from being loud, and at the same time trying to remain in a somewhat coherent headspace.

“Please,” he pleaded in a whisper as he attempted to stop the single tear from coming down his face.

You considered for a long time. You were in a crowded restaurant and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet. For a moment, you thought you were going to say yes.

Instead a smile formed on your lips and you yanked your hand away. Lucifer whined terribly as another tear slipped down his porcelain skin.

“Pull your pants up, our food might be here,” you wash your hand off and begin to walk out of the bathroom.

Lucifer just started at you, mouth agape at your cruel plan. He was going to have to sit through dinner needy and hard, and still have to face a punishment when you both arrived home.

“Come on, Luci,” you tease, “It’s rude to stare.”

a/n — Wow gang! It sure is lucky that no one in that super packed restaurant had to go to the bathroom.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #inbox open #dom reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #sub lucifer

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