Yikes, I Don’t See The Appeal || Not My Type || He’s Alright || I See The Appeal But I’m Different™ || Cute But On Alternating Wednesdays || He Has A Kind Face And That’s Good Enough || Pretty || Gorgeous || I— I Love? We Don’t Deserve Him.

Jojo love of my life, we’re married already but yes👰🏻‍♀️

@lucifcr​ said: “   if  you  don’t  have  to  go ,   don’t .   ”

THE TIP OF HIS thumb grazes across the pulse of her wrist, a tender touch that leaves a trail of electricity in its wake. She’s wearing only the scent of his cologne, her naked legs twisted in his silk sheets. They have come together as gracelessly as animals in the wild. Once, Diana fancied herself a teacher, guiding him through the art of lovemaking. Instead, it was Lucifer who was the instructor, displaying to her that the union of two bodies could indeed be a meaningless thing, a primal instinct rather than a portrayal of deep emotion. 

She feels empty inside afterwards. Especially on nights such as this, when they invite strangers into their bed. Her heart is hollow. Not because she failed to enjoy herself; no, it is precisely the opposite. Rather, she quite relished the feel of a stranger atop her, their chests grazing and their hearts beating against one another. What does it mean when pleasure can be derived from such carnality? Nothing at all, Diana decides. There should be no shame in such encounters. 

Why, then, is Diana melancholy? Because he does not love her. Either he refuses to do so, or he simply does not. My darling, the devil does not love, he would say, not hearing the shattering of her heart. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, the devil is loved. By her. 

She stares down to where his skin meets her skin. He’s asking her not to leave. He’s asking for her to forsake her mother and crucify the blooming of summer. Diana looks at him with hooded eyes. A challenge lies there. 

His presence looms largely behind her. Perhaps less of a romantic would describe it as a black cloud. But Diana feels only love, only childlike mirth. She performs quite the show, yet not for him. It is her own joy she seeks. And that, that, is why she is free. 

❛ When I finally allow you to make love to me, shall you still look at me with such hunger in your eyes? ❜ She speaks, finally, as though remembering that Lucifer is here. Her teeth pinch at her bottom lip, though it does not suppress the grin that spreads her cheeks wide. ❛ Mother says that is always what happens with the likes of men.❜ 

tegan…a squonk….

a meme lost to time and space | not accepting

     “No I haven’t,” Kara says automatically, but it’s halfhearted at best and she hasn’t exactly done anything to cover up her red-rimmed eyes and slightly smeary eye makeup. She’s not really sure why she even bothers trying to lie to him anymore when he can see through her so easily, but she lies about a lot of things in her life. It comes with the territory of a secret identity– hiding entire parts of herself is second nature.

     He’s got that knowing look in his eye and that infuriating half-smug, half-concerned smirk. She’s still not really sure how he manages to be completely obnoxious while simultaneously displaying how much he cares about her, but times like this she can’t question it

     “Don’t worry about it,” she finally acquiesces, “I’m alright.”

     That is at least only a half-truth, but she’s not really in the mood to talk about it. Sometimes family stuff is just… family stuff.