#from doom to bliss

[kruemel8]

#from doom to bliss #or the ball scene #and the other ball scene #look at them smiling again #so many emotions #top notch acting #crown prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #the most beautiful boy #s2e4 #young royals

[al-the-remix]

Years pass but people still remain gross about WAGs. And now they dress it up with “intellectual” terms like industrial complex and post-colonial supremacist whatchamacallit. Give me the messy puck bunny blogs at least they’re open about hating WAGs.

Yeah, I can't say I have many complex things to say on the topic, except that that dialogue has been in this fandom forever (all fandoms forever; tumblr, the birthplace of the 'not-like-other-girls-girl') but it's especially bad in rpf and I'm exhausted of reading the same tired iterations on "well, I could NEVER understand how another woman could live like that--" STOP. Just stop it, it's not your life, and it's likely never going to be your life, for all the aforementioned unfair reasons. You don't have to compare yourselves to them constantly. It doesn't make you lesser or them better for being (presumably) born into a more privileged circumstance and it doesn't make them lesser and you better for achieving some enlightened pearl of knowledge.

The puck bunny blogs irk me just as much, and if you find one better than the other I guess it's more a question of what rolls your stomach more: spite or smugness. But in my opinion, calling Kathy an ageing escort that Sid pitty dates is just as nauseating as talking down your nose about her like she's some ignorant waif that cant make her own decisions about her life or her relationship.

Yes, the NHL is an intrinsically racist, misogynistic, homophobic, capitalist, fatphobic--and all the other bad terrible things--nightmare creature whose ailment runs all the way up to the giant sucking malignancy attached to its heart that is Garry Bettman and Bill Dayley, and further, to the executives that they shill for, and even further back to the time period, tenets, and culture that the sport was founded on. Remember, this is the same organization whose administrative and players (retired and current) repeatedly spit in the face of their teammates who've suffered chronic and debilitating injuries, and continue to mock journalists and veterans who try to bring those issues to the forefront, stating that the injury is worth it to win -- (or that the possibility of injury is worth it, considering these comments so often come from players that are still relatively hale).

Hmmm, sounds incredibly familiar to the position the NHL takes on another rampant issue in the sport: sexual assault.

There's a reason why the NHL is falling behind in popularity (and in value) compared to other sports organisations and it's because they cling to their archaic values and methods and flat-out refuse to let them go -- and thus attract players and administrative and fans who find all that entails appealing. It's not everyone in the sport obviously but it's a large enough faction to keep things stagnant -- just go take a look at Ian Kenedy's twitter page and start scrolling through the replies to his tweets if you want a taste of what we're up against here.

If you want to do anything, ANYTHING AT ALL to help improve the hockey culture, there are multiple avenues to explore that might actually make a difference --first of all getting involved in your community not just the internet community-- in chipping away at who this game attracts, how they see themselves, how they see others, how they see hockey players, and how those hockey players see themselves and others. Those avenues do not include dunking on wags. I get it, they all look the same, haha. it's weird, their children and husbands can't tell them apart, hahaha. There, I said it too and now I never have to hear that fucking joke again. Move ON.

I understand that the lines between reality and fiction can blur easily when it comes to rpf, but making actually, completely serious judgements on other people's private emotional lives and relationships is completely out of the realm of reality. You can't know, you can never know completely. It can be difficult enough to identify these things when it comes to a friend or a family member how are you possibly going to make a pronouncement that someone's relationship is stale or without intimacy or connection when literally have no idea who they really are? I've been stalked and I've had people write fanfiction about me and I can 100% say that what they gleamed of who I was and what my life was like from the outside did not run true.

Analyzing those aspects and their intersexuality is worthwhile -- if anyone has an actual interest in these topics I suggest reading: Wille O'ree's biography, Bern Saunder's biography, Fred Sasakamoose's Call Me Indian, Black Ice: The Lost History of the Colored Hockey League of the Maritimes by Darril and George Frosy, On Account of Darkness by Ian Kennedy, Why I didn't say anything by Sheldon Kennedy, Crossing The Line by Laura Robinson, Major Misconduct by Jeremy Allingham, Finding Murph by Rick Westhead -- There are more than that if you're willing to dig for them ... but especially after the back to back Kyle Beach and Hockey Cannada lawsuits I've just had it to up to here with the takes about the ~uwu poor hockey men~~ and their repressed homosexual longings and lack of overall male intimacy and companionship --- who do you think is doing said repressing?? THE HORRIBLE UWU MEN. (Said in exaggeration and jest but also not fucking really.) They are victims unto themselves. 99% refuse to speak up or do anything about the inequality, harassment, and overall intrinsic issues in the sport, the ones who bravely do are shunned by the others who refuse to help themselves or others. They don't see themselves as emotionally underdeveloped manchildren stranded on the frigid island of masculine solitude and arrested development. They like their lives, they don't care about what kind of impact that lifestyle has on other people (or on the environment or on the economy). They like their cookie-cutter world, conservative sandbox and comfortable wealthy liberalism... and most of all they like their hot blond skinny wives and they don't care what sort of social constructs have led to them pursuing a very specific type of woman. The vast majority of them have zero interest in having their eyes opened to a more complex and diverse worldview and it's not the fault of anyone but themselves, least of all the women who get pulled along in their wake.

#no offence to the ghost of andrea dworkin but I feel her possess me every time I'm forced to here a take like this #not that i claim to be in her league in literally anything only that the wags would benefit from living together all together in a lesbian #commune away from the internet experiencing bliss and many orgasms while the men are doomed to play out a pantomime of heterosexual sex #on the ice penetrating each other with their skate blades and sticks and shins and elbows night after night forever all the while grinning #and proclaiming it's all for the love of the game #im sure this is filled with spelling errors and mistakes but im tired and i tap out #ill be back when i have saved up enough energy for my next rant or someone posts a new picture of steve yzerman in the tag

[sysig]

Like a dream (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #Max Vyer #Dexter Favin #The latest reread really brought up some Feelings I wasn't expecting lol ♪ I thought I'd gotten them all out before but nope! New thoughts! #I love Max as a character quite a lot - he's a mess in so many ways and I really find him interesting! #He's probably one of the few characters that I actually have a ''Please for the love of god take him out of situations for once'' feeling #Everyone else I'm constantly like ''Make them sufferrrrr'' which I mean - I'm not about to say I don't also feel that way A Little to him #The proportions are different! That's all ♪ #He's just fjdsalfd he was failed on so many levels! Repeatedly! Despite how much of his pain is self-inflicted I can't help feeling bad ♥ #Max is not a good person! But I really think he could've been and the potential of exploring that gives me Feelings #Like what kind of environment would be good for him ♫ What kind of life would cultivate him #My brain immediately went to a scenic coastal village where he and Dex can eat fresh fish and work for dinner money and bicycle hehe #And sleep together in worn sheets <3 It's not fancy but it's theirs #But of course their story is a tragedy #The saddest part really is that Max was doomed from the beginning #Even if Dexter had taken him away - he really never would have though would he ♥ - but even if he had #Even if he had gotten clean and started to make a life for himself it never would've mattered because he's still not Max in there anymore #The thought of them escaping and everything being quietly blissful and Dex comes back to a Max sitting on their - /their/ bed #Just staring at his hands and smiling back at him #Hhhhhhhhh there's a lot of feelings <3 <3

[fuckthewest]

There is something deeply fucking wrong with me I'm so attracted to negativity and misery etc. That I'm literally viewing cautionary tales as semi aspirational. My dumbass is playing disco elysium and becoming so enthralled by the angst of Harry s. Dubois that I don't even mind - and even sometimes morbidly look forward to - that I'm becoming like him. I fr play the scene where he meets his wife in the dream and my heart aches so much and I'm like "that's gonna be me" and my heart aches even more out of a disgusting excitement for misery. I have become so entrenched in negativity and angst and melancholy that I have become comfortable revelling in it. Fuck my entire life.

#tormented one sweep #fr im fucked #worlds worst coping mechanism #i am filled with a sincere love of melancholy even my positive moments are tinged with misery #my entire fucking worldview is centered around sadness #when i think of my partner i think of the dull ache of longing rather than the bliss that comes from being around them #like bro! you will not survive the coming struggle! its over and you arent going to make it! #idiot doom spiral over here thats me

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

»»————-　★　————-««

Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #reader insert #fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #ikan writes

[confessioncassette]

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧! 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞”

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 - 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.

𝐭𝐰 : 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 𝟑.𝟓𝐤

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝?

Pillows caress your head as you fall into bed for the night. Your blankets are a warm caress, urging you to sleep the day off with a gentle hug. 

Blissful sleep swirls through your body in soft waves as your eyes grow heavy. Eventually you give and are swept into blissful rest without a care in the world. 

Tap, tap.

Tap.

You stir without opening your eyes. The tapping gently woke you, nothing to be startled about. Hoping it’s just the house “settling” or the wind blowing tree branches against your window. This house is old anyways, you’ve heard plenty of noises throughout your time here. 

Tap, tap tap.

You pull your comforter over your shoulder as you change positions, turning away from the noise.

Is that… static?

Soft static buzzes throughout your room - a noise you’ve never heard in this house before. You don’t even own a radio. 

Tap, tap. 

The static grows louder. 

And that’s when you feel it.

The hairs on your neck stand up and your heart plummets to your stomach. You can’t shake the feeling of someone is… watching you.

Goosebumps litter your skin and the back of your head feels like it’s on fire. Your head thumps loudly as your heartbeat picks up. 

It’s probably nothing, nothing at all. You’re just working yourself up, this is stupid. You’ve never had a “paranormal” experience in this house, why would it start now? Your body feels like it's racing, blood pulses violently under your skin as your mouth fills with a tangy taste. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to seal them closed forever and forget about this ominous feeling. 

“Look at me.” 

You blanch. Your body stiffens with pure fear. Your eyes shoot open, starting straight into the darkness of your bedroom. You can’t help it, you can’t pretend anymore. 

Your feet, your palms, your whole body is striked. You feel clammy, all parts of your body hot and cold at the same time. 

“Look.” The voice calls again with more demand. 

Unbeknownst to you, you oblige. 

Turning your body over you’re met with darkness other than blown wide, glowing red eyes  and a sadistic grin. 

You shake with paralyzing fear, and you swear you might release your bladder onto your mattress. 

But before you could even process, you blink and the face is gone. 

–

It’s been a week since you’ve dreamt of… whatever that was. You’re convinced it was a sick dream, even though it took hours with the light on to sleep again that night. 

You go through your nightly routine of tidying up after you come home from work, pick out your clothes for the next day, showering, skincare and finally cozy up in your bed. 

Picking up your phone, you scroll through social media. 

After a few hours of doom-scrolling, your eyelids grow heavy. You turn off your phone and roll over to let sleep drift you away. 

Until, that static fills the room again. 

It’s just your imagination. Nothing can hurt you. It’s just your imagination. You think over and over, until it becomes true. Sleep.

Ice cold air washes over you and you force your eyes shut, ignoring the fear pumping loudly through your body. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Just your imagination.

Sleep.

“Sweetie,” a staticy voice gently calls to you, “Open your eyes.”

“Not real, not real..” You say, covering your face with your comforter like it’ll protect you from whatever lurks in the corner of your room.

The sounds of static grow louder, prickling your skin in a teasing way. Like the static is real, and it’s caressing your body. 

The voice calls out your name softly and your stomach threatens to release your dinner all over your bed. 

“But I am real, open your eyes.” 

It’s a threat.

Your body stiffens as bile rises in your throat. Your skin is so tight from fear that it hurts to remove the blankets off your face. 

Your eyes open slowly, terrified of what you’ll see in the corner of your room. 

It’s pitch black, but somehow the figure that stands in the corner is even darker. Shadows curl and twist off his body. The eyes you meet are red, but not blown wide as last time. A too-wide smile glows, contrasting against the darkness. 

The creature observes you quietly, static humming gentler now. 

“You’re not real! Go away!” Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper due to your lungs constricting under your ribs. 

The creature's face tilts to the side as his eyes narrow down at you. 

“That may work on lesser demons, but I am not one of them.” 

Your body violently shakes now, the fear washing over you is frigid and stuns you in place. 

“What do you want?” You manage to say. 

“Something, but not tonight, my dear.” It says before shadows twist up the figure's body and he’s gone. 

—

Every few days, you’d hear that tap, tap behind a door, in the walls or even through the window next to your bed. The advances at night begged for your attention, begging you to look at the creature but you refused. You haven’t slept right in weeks. 

Static would pass by your ears while you're alone, but more so at nighttime. It seems like this creature wants you to know he’s there, watching your every move. Despite those occurrences, he has not shown himself directly, or spoken to you. 

You’ve decided to move out of your room to see if he would leave you alone. And for the past couple of weeks, you’ve staked out in your living room. Every night, you leave the TV and the lights on. And to your relief, the creature has not paid a visit. 

It’s late on a weekend, so you stay up scrolling on your phone curled up in blankets on your couch. 

Stretching your arms, you yawn and check the time. 

2am. 

You sink deeper into the couch and put on a comfort show to fall asleep to. You close your eyes before you hear that bone chilling voice mixed with static.

“You think sleeping on the couch with lights on would stop me from paying a visit?” 

The lights in your house flicker and your TV cuts out to static. 

Your eyes shoot open, ready to curse the creature out. You thought this would end, why is he stalking? Haunting? Following you? What the fuck does he want? 

“Get the fuck out of here!” You sit up on the couch and face the creature standing a few feet from your couch. You’re desperate to show him you’re not afraid, but your shaking body shows him otherwise. 

The creature - man - stands tall, towering over your body even from a feet away. He’s nicely dressed in a red suit with a long coat and a cane. The red eyes you know all too well by now look down on you as his cheshire smile grows. Atop his head he has small horns and ears that twitch when you yell at him. His posture is nothing but sophisticated. You wonder why he’s presented himself to you in this way now after everything. 

“Oh darling, that’s not how a lady talks, now is it?” 

It’s fear and anger that boil in your chest now. 

“What do you want from me?” You stand your ground, determined to banish this creature forever. Before, you thought that it was your imagination, but now you see he is completely real. 

His picks lint off his jacket, “I’ve been watching you for a while now,” he begins. And you know that. You fucking know that. He’s been terrorizing you and your home, he even exiled you out to sleep in your living room. “And you have something I want.”

His hands re-adjust to rest on top of his cane. 

“What are you?” You ask.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart, I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you play a game.”

Your nose crinkles, “A game? Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Now, now, my dear. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure.” He reaches out a hand, but you don’t take it. 

“I see,” he hums, retracting his hand to rest over his cane again, “I apologize for scaring you before. I must say that you’ve intrigued me, my dear. I want to offer a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Your brows furrow at his request. “Why would I want to make a deal with you? Are you some kind of ghost? A demon?” 

“I’m someone who can make your wildest dreams come true, sweetheart!” 

Alastor steps closer to you extending a finger to your chin. You try to back away, but he grips your jaw gently between his fingers to force you to look up at him. 

“All the riches in the world. All the luck you can have. I know what desires you have, I’ve been studying you. I will give you everything you wish until your time here ends.” His body towers closely over yours sitting on your couch. His figure is enormous, and his eyes look down at you with a glimmer. 

You process his words carefully. 

“In exchange for what?” 

“Your eternal enslavement in hell of course, my dear. I’ll own your soul once you die. I will say that it sounds a lot worse than it is.” 

An eternity in hell for everything you could want while you live on earth. You mull it over.

“This is why you’ve been stalking me? Why me?” 

“Darling,” he removes his hand from your chin, but doesn’t move, “You’re just what I want. I’m very curious about you, as I said, you intrigue me.” 

You wait for more, but he doesn’t answer. 

“Your soul after you die, for your life to be filled with every earthly delight you can imagine.”

“I’m- not sur-” you begin but he quickly cuts you off. 

“I know you, more than you think I do. I know all your little secrets,” His eyes darken, “I will protect you, here and in hell.” His head cocks to the side, his eyes narrow down at you.

“You’ll protect me? For eternity? And give me everything I want here while I live?” You look down at your hands, “That's all you want? My soul for you to give me everything?” 

He hums, “Yes, my dear. It would be a pleasure to work with you,” he takes a step back and flips his cane swifty before catching it. He extends his hand once again for you, “Do we have a deal?” His lips curl, showing his gums to you as he smiles. 

You take a breath and think how this deal couldn’t hurt. Everything in life for your soul. You could live comfortably and happily, rich even, and all you have to do is go to hell with him. But, you’ll be protected on either end of the deal. 

You extend your hand out to his and shake. “Deal.” his hand grips yours tightly, and his eyes and smile glow green. Shadows expel off his body and surround your limbs in a caress. 

Before you blink, Alastor is gone once again. 

—

You don’t see Alastor for a few days, and honestly you don’t mind that. But you have noticed that your life has gotten… better. Small things like people offering to pay for your groceries, you’ve gotten a promotion at your job and a hell of a raise. Little things that make you think what Alastor did isn’t just a fever dream - that he’s real. 

You try not to think of your eternal enslavement at the end of your life. But you cling on to the promise he made to you, that he would protect you even after all is said and done. 

Slipping into your covers at the end of a long week, your body burns with need. The end of an exciting week was a lot for you… and you want to take the load off. Feeling happier than ever with the events of the past few days were a dream come true, but the stress of it all somehow makes you feel like you have a lot on your shoulders now. 

Your hand slips down between your legs, a finger gently slides over your clit for a tease. Your core burns hotter with need. Pressing into yourself, you draw little circles over your bundle of nerves. Your free hand slides up to tease a nipple. 

You groan at the feeling. You buck your hips up into your own touch as your fingers do the work. You know exactly what you like and how to do it, and your body becomes hotter with every movement. 

Your slick builds up at your opening, as you dip a finger down to catch the slick to bring it back up to your clit. You huff, working yourself so well that you -

“Busy, darling?” 

Alastors staticy voice startles you. Your hand shoots away from yourself and you quickly pull your covers over your body. Heat flushes over your face as mortification bubbles in your gut. 

“Alastor!” You gasp, you can’t bear to meet his eyes. 

Alastor stands poise as ever, his head already tilted to the side, grinning down at your body. 

He knows. Of course he knows. 

“If you needed help, you could have just called me.”

Your face twisted with embarrassment and confusion must have given you away because he continues, “Yes, you can call me here anytime you want. That was a part of the deal, how else would I be able to come at your beck and call to give you what you want?”

“Alastor, please, not now,” you mumble and his ear twitches with annoyance.

This is a sick and twisted situation. Guilt, mortification, and sickness floods your body. You made a deal with… whatever he is. To cheat at life. He has access to you whenever you need… or in this case, whenever he wants. 

“Why are you here?” You ask.

“I thought I would drop by to see how my little sweetheart was doing, and I can see she’s occupied.” His steps are slow towards the bed. 

“Not now… please.” You turn your face away from him. Your face is melting, you can feel it burning up your neck, your cheeks…

“Lay back down,” his hand gently pushes you down. You protest for a second, but his strength pushes you down more. 

“I don’t-”

“I can see you need assistance, my dear. Let me take care of this for you, it’s what I’m here for.” His body towers over you as he stands next to the bed. 

“I didn’t think this was a part of the deal,” you look up at him. You don’t want it to be a part of the deal.

“Nonsense.” He dismisses you.

You close your thighs together as his hand snakes over your legs under the covers. 

“Open.” He commands.

“Alastor-” you plead. You want him gone. This is too much. It’s embarrassing as it is…

“Do you dare to disrespect me? The one who owns your fucking soul?” The static in his voice is as loud as the first night he came into your room, and the lights in your room flicker on and off. His gums show as he talks to you. 

Then his hands pry your legs apart. 

“You will listen to me and I won’t repeat myself again.” Alastor yanks the covers off your naked body as a gasp leaves your lips. 

“I can give you anything you want and I’ve already started. Did you like not paying for food this week? Or how about that promotion?” He tilts his head down to you, his face so close to yours as he glares into your soul.

“I did, Alastor.” The coldness of the room makes your skin prickle, your nipples hard. 

“This deal goes both ways for me. You get everything you want and I own you. Which means I get to do whatever I want to you.” 

Before you could respond, metal appears out of thin air and tightens around your neck. Alastor grips at the chain connected to your neck and tugs you forward. His hand cradles your jaw as he forces you to look up at him. 

“Now, do you want to feel good?” He hums.

Your teasing from earlier still burns with need. But you don’t want him to take care of you. 

You nod anyways. 

“Lovely.” 

The hand that grips your chin releases to free his cock from his pants. His cock looks like its aching for you, beaded with pre-cm already as it lays over your stomach. His hand then slides down your belly and rests over your thigh. He grips your thigh roughly, squeezing your sensitive skin so close to your core. His fingers dance over your skin, tickling your nerves. 

A finger flicks up to your opening and you whimper, pulling at the chain in his grip. 

“Already so wet,” he comments, “Look at me, dear.” 

You meet his gaze as his fingers slide up to your clit. He’s not gentle when he rubs circles over it, but the way he does it has your head falling back. Your eyes still hold his gaze as the pressure he gives you at your bundle of nerves make you buck into him. 

“What a good girl.” He praises, then picks up his pace. His fingers work fast and hard, rubbing you roughly in all the best ways. Your mouth slacks open as your core begins to tighten. 

“See? I’m making you feel so good, and you didn’t want this. You want this now?” He tugs at the chain.

You nod, unable to use words as your being carried by the ecstasy he is making you feel. Alastor grinds his hips over your stomach so his cock can feel friction. 

“Speak,” he sing songs to you, “Speak and I’ll let you cum.” 

“Yes, Alastor.” You give into the beautiful feeling he’s giving you.

“Give it to me.” He commands, pressing harder into your clit. His smile is disgusting, his eyes are full of pure delight. He is enjoying seeing you wrecked. 

The tightness in your belly snaps and you scream out. Bucking your hips into his fingers as your ride out your high. Alastor watches in amazement, taking the sight of you in completely. 

“Ahh, that’s a good girl but we aren’t done yet. You want to be filled up?”

You know better than to just nod, so you give him a breathless “yes,” and he’s tugging you up by your chain. 

His arm wraps around the small of your back, hand clawing at the flesh of your hips. Your legs wrap around his waist and he keeps you close. You feel his cock throbbing at your slit, and you’re not sure if it’ll fit. 

Your chain has no give to move so you hold Alastor tightly against you. Your face is extremely close to his, as he leans over your body. 

In one swift motion, he thrusts himself into you. Your back arches as you cry out. 

He hums, “You’ll get used to it dear.” His smile is devilish and confident as he looks down at your flushed face, his eyes are heavily lidded. 

He pulls back just to thrust himself inside you. With every thrust it’s deeper, and deeper. The hand gripping the fat of your waist claws at you and forces you to move to his rhythm. The chain tugs roughly but he still doesn't give any slack. 

His hair tickles your cheek, as he moves his face into the crook of your neck. His teeth bite roughly, drawing blood.

“So sweet,” he hums as he slides a tongue over the wound, lapping up your blood. 

His pace picks up, and you're a melted mess held up by his leash and arm. Your body bounces to his movement. His balls slap against your ass with every rough thrust he gives. 

His tongue laps at your blood in between kisses he gives against your neck. You clench around his cock with this. 

“I feel you,” he murmurs in your ear, “Cum on me.”

His shadows burst out of his body, engulfing all corners of your room. One in particular slides between your bodies and rubs at your clit. Gentler than his fingers were, but enough to have you a babbling mess in his arms. Tears prick at your eyes as all parts of your body are touched. It’s too much. 

Everything is so much. His shadow at your clit, his arm slung across your back keeping you close, his clawed hand piercing the skin at your waist, his teeth and togue working your neck, his hair tickling your face, it's all so fucking much. 

And you give. You groan, a noise coming from deep within as the bubble pops in your lower belly. Your cunt flutters around his cock and it sends him over the edge. 

With one, two, three thrusts his hips stutter and glue them to you as he fills your cunt with warm cum. 

As he does this, his tongue licks along your jaw and his teeth nip at your earlobe. 

He catches his breath relatively quickly, and his face comes to yours. He gives that calm demeanor he gave the night he made the deal with you. 

He tugs the chain on your neck, reminding you that you’re forever tied as he promises, 

“Forever mine.” 

#alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader #alastor smut

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

[kruemel8]

#from bliss to doom in 46min #or when everything turns to shit #but #morning after scene my beloved #and #fish scene my beloved #aka wilmon in love #also lucia scene #a rollercoaster of emotions #s1e5 #young royals #forever my show

[mphountitled]

𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙊𝙛 𝘼𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Song Mingi x Fem!reader

Summary: Your relationship isn't as vanilla as you initially thought

Warnings: ft. Hongjoong, Language, Established Relationship, Honjoong as his own warning, Teasing, Mentions of Bruises, Possessiveness, Slight!Humor, Fluff, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Marking, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, DUB/CON, Massive Degradation Kink, Rough Sex, No Aftercare, Breeding Kink, Dom!Mingi, Sub!reader, fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Slight!Exhibition Kink

HE MAKES ME SO DELULU

Hongjoong's voice is loud and frankly hyperbolic when he decides to disrupt the serenity in the dorms by screaming, "What the hell is that?!"

Your head jerks upwards from Mingi's hard chest, effectively ruining your once blissful rest under candle scented clouds as you stare wide-eyed at your boyfriend's friend. Hongjoong had promised to make himself and the rest of the group scarce on this bustling Friday night, leaving you and Mingi alone in the dorms while they partied up the peroration of the weekend.

But he is still here.

Blocking the view of the TV with his blinding Saint Lairent sequence and attire.

Your downtime, your only time, which was meticulously carved out of both you and your boyfriend's busy schedule is suddenly being hijacked by a crazily grinning Hongjoong, cupping the front of his mouth in apparent shock.

"Aren't you supposed to be gone?" Mingi mutters, refusing to spare Hongjoong a single glance as he swipes through his phone.

Your boyfriend continues in his duties as the big spoon on the wide sectional. His other hand, in its callousness and recklessness, is draped over your hip. Throughout his doom scrolling, Mingi's hand has slipped under your camisole and has taken to rubbing, slow circles along your soft tummy, gradually exposing the dark, purple splotches which caught Hongjoong's attention, just as he was about to leave.

"Aren't you supposed to be a human?" Hongjoong replies smoothly before gesturing vaguely towards your exposed abdomen, "When were you going to tell us you're an undercover vampire? I always had a suspicion, but now I know -"

"Jeez-" You stammer, fighting to force out Mingi's hand and pull down your camisole before Hongjoong could get a closer look. Mingi's hand is an iron glove as he pushes you down by your abdomen, effectively securing you against him.

Without looking up from his phone, he says, "He's in our business,"

"Damn right, I'm in your business!" Exclaims Hongjoong, "Did you see the state of those marks, man?! Honestly, I applaud you-"

Sensing Mingi's already glacial patience waning, by the firm grip across your abdomen, you attempt to salvage the conversation. Mingi very rarely felt like speaking at the best of times, even more apparent was his abhorrence for explaining himself and so you do it for him.

"They're just love bites," You attempt to salvage, but to no avail. "And anyway, I think you better get going, now!"

"'Love bites!'" Hongjoong mocks in slight acquiescence as he begins to make his way to the front door.

Despite the flurry of teasing that he had been attacked with, Mingi is still indifferent as he finally places his phone down. In fact, his hand returns to its designated spot underneath your camisole, resting along your tummy, with his blunt fingernails skimming the softness of the skin under your breasts "You love everything I do to you," He murmurs in your ear loud enough for Hongjoong to hear who finally disappears behind the closed door with another loud cackle. Mingi continues rubbing along your skin as he buries his head in between your neck.

"Show them too me," He says, "I like seeing them."

There is no reality in which you could possibly explain to anyone that the marks you sported underneath your clothes are a product of your desires. One glance at your body, riddled with bruises and love bites, would have anybody sick. To you, however, they were a prize.

"I wanna see them," Mingi says, having suddenly found his deep, fiery, sandalwood voice, echoing throughout the living room.

He begins to paw at anything and everything to get to one of his many marks he left on you and once he peeks over your side, and sees what Hongjoong saw, the flurry of blue and purple bruises meshing into the depths of your skin - it has his resolve snapping in earnest as he pushes you easily onto your back, while he moves to hover above you.

He had not always been this handsy or demanding, and you're unable to stop yourself from thinking back to when things had been different...

You remember the softness of Mingi's hands your first night spent together. How he hovered behind your bent over frame, clenching his jaw as he eased his leaking cock inside of you at snail pace,

"I don’t have anywhere to be, Babe, take your time," you had joked with a lazy smile while Mingi's jaw ticked.

"Carry on with your little jokes and I might not be so forgiving," If only you knew that the further your pussy swallowed his dick, the more his patience was waning. His limbs ached with the need to wrap around you. Adrenaline from the earlier performance was still running through his arteries, heightening his senses. He needed to go quicker. He longed to fuck you harder. This gentleness was going against everything in his very nature. His body burened for him to make a mess inside you, clamp his hand around your mouth and fuck you in front of the greenroom mirror until you begged him to stop… until you would have the marks to prove it.

But he liked you too much

And he had never felt this way before.

And as his hand dug into your soft sides, he promised that he would never let his recklessness steal this away from him.

But you felt him twitch inside you, and you peered up at his brown eyes now squeezed shut,

"What are you thinking about," you had asked him softly, as Mingi began a slow rhythm with his hips- the tip of his cock barely grazing that plush bundle of need inside you.

"Don't worry about what I'm thinking about," He blew out a hot and heavy breath, "what the fuck are you think about? You're gripping me like a vice, you fucking slut," He did not mean to say that. He did not mean for the words to slip out.

Or maybe he did.

There is an immense burst of pleasure spanning inside him, having him rut just a little quicker inside you - inside his beautiful fucking slut.

"Fuck,"

"Holy shit"

A dam had been broken. A holy grail was discovered as you watched Mingi and his slightly parted lips through the mirror. His eyes had snapped shut and a pained, completely fucked out expression overtook him. It had Mingi's cock seeking further, more violent entry, while your thighs framing his hips only locked tighter. The noise of post-perfomance celebration outside was no match for the bass in Mingi's voice that night.

"What are you thinking about?" All thoughts lead back to the present with Mingi presently stationed between your thighs on the big, open couch. Your breath is shallow as you reply, "Guess,"

A slow, almost proud smirk lightly pierces the end of his lips as he sits back on his haunches to splay a kiss against your steepled knee. Your eyes flutter shut as his plush, pillowy lips make contact with your skin, "Osaka?" He asks, voice as husky as it was in that deserted green room, where he forced you to take everything he had to offer while still wanting more.

"Osaka." You nod with finality, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as Mingi's kisses grew slightly more frazzled along your legs. Soon, you're gasping into the air as you feel his sneaky hand drift further and further along your inner thigh, like a serpent on a mission. He remains cool and collected on the outside but his bulge is raging against his sweatpants. It's the lack of immediate gratification on both ends that has your wetness seeping onto your underwear while you begin to paw helplessly at your breasts.

"You know…" Mingi's fingers lock onto your underwear, which he gradually pulls down. His kisses cease, and you frown at the skin-to-skin disconnection as your eyes flutter open, "Your skin is looking a little too boring down here. Not a single mark in sight," He peers up at you from between your rattling thighs with unmistakable innocent eyes.

You arch your back off the couch, already triggered by a deep wave of arousal as you bring your cunt to meet his hand while you reply through clenched teeth, "You can't… on my legs- They'll see,"

"You think I care if any of them see?" It is a question asked in darkened curiosity. You moan with ferocity as Mingi's fingers spear your aching cunt as his head tilts to the side, "You think I care if anyone sees how pretty you look when you're covered in my bruises like this?" He's completely sunken into his wayward domspace as his fingers drift in and out of you with complete focus and determination. You're a mewling, moaning mess as your fingers dig into his choppy dyed hair and you lift your hips to meet each and every obscenely cruel thrust.

"Another finger, Mingi, Please. I need m-more," he was wrecking you with middle finger alone, savouring the way your cunt gripped around him, imagining it was his cock. "Such a cute little slut," He mutters, almost to himself as he obliges and slowly sinks his index fingers inside your soaking walls. Your cunt is eager to pull his fingers in before pushing him out and pulling him in again. Mingi is utterly transfixed, watching you fuck yourself silly on his fingers until they're glistening.

"Lift your top," he says, "I wanna see you." You comply without fail, scrambling to lift your camisole until the cool air flows freely across your hardened nipples. Mingi's breathing becomes ragged when he lays eyes on your exposed breasts, and the dozens of little marks splattered across your torso. Some faded, some blending into the depth of your skin. It is the unevenness of it, the irregularities and discoloration that he put there, that completely blows the lid on his composure.

"Fuck, open your legs," you could not find it in you to tell him your legs were already open. All you do is moan from the loss of his fingers as Mingi crawls up against you. He palms his hardened cock through his sweats as he watches you play with your tits in the most lewd, most lascivious fashion.

"You like acting like such a little slut?" The depth of his voice, had you absolutely weak to the core, like the foundations of earth itself was being enchanted to speak. He knew how wrecked he could get you by simply speaking and it is his most coveted weapon. Mingi's eyes are hooded and glassy as he hovers over you, simultaneously forcing his cock through your wet folds while he looked down at you with fierce conviction.

You're already teetering on the edge as he begins to fuck you hard and rough while his 3 silver chains dangle from his neck, kissing the very tips of your nose.

"Oh- fuck, you're taking me so well," Mingi's voice is absolutely delirious as he pounds into you, his jewelery moving in tandem with his violent thrusts as he brings a hand down on your breasts.

"So, good, you feel so good," He repeats, rutting into you with the same urgency of that very first night you let him get this rough with you. His thrusts are sloppy and erratic as he splays a wayward hand on your inner thigh, prying your legs open to allow his cock to plunge even deeper. Mingi's left arm is beside your head, keeping him afloat while he experimentally brings a calloused hand around the base of your throat, testing. Your back once again peels off the couch as you bring a hand up to his wrist. "Fuck, oh my god-"

"Fuck, Mingi" He corrects, huffing and puffing above you as he urges you to nod along with him, "I want you to say my name, baby,"

"F-Fuck, Mingi," The words escape through pursed lips, accompanied by a whorish moan from you and a deep, rumbling groan from Mingi who begins to hump your cunt with urgency.

For the umpteenth time since you began, you are utterly breathless.

"My dumb little slut is taking his cock so well," Mingi's voice is hoarse as it cracks into a million pieces, "So fucking good,"

He watches with shallow breathing as another moan climbs up and out of your throat... He sends another mindless rut into your pussy, spurred by the knowledge that you are slipping into subspace right in front of him. "You like it when I call you my little slut?"

"Oh fuck-" Your own hips are restless as you lift them to meet his sloppy thrusts.

"That's not an answer," He says before squeezing the base of your throat in warning.

"Yes!" You say, once You're given the gift of breathing, "Yes, I like it when you call me a slut!" Unimaginable pleasure only multiplies as Mingi buries his head in the crook of your neck and bites. He is relentless on your skin- sinking his teeth and rutting his hips until the tip of his cock bruises your cervix. You're completely incoherent and so is he.

"Fuck…I love seeing- love seeing my marks on you baby," Mingi's eyes are half lidded as his lips hangs open, "Fucking love marking my slut and fucking her tight little pussy."

"Oh, fuck-"

"I can't stop," He says, with utter desperation in his tone, enough to have your legs shaking, ready to accommodate your oncoming orgasm, "I can't fucking stop so don't ask me to, okay? P-Please don't ask me to stop," Mingi's words bleed into one another and he feels free. Free to say what he needs to in order to build that well of lust necessary to push him over the edge.

He is so grateful to have found you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill your pussy with my cum-" that is the only announcement needed before Mingi completely releases inside you. His words have you slipping into your own orgasm, screaming and clawing at the hand around your neck as your hips lift to milk everything out of him.

The air that settles is still profoundly charged and Mingi finds himself unable to leave the confines of your pussy, so he doesn't.

"I want you to show everyone these marks for me tomorrow," He whispers with his cock still inside you, "Can you do that for me?"

Welp!

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[hwaightme]

Safe and San

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR MOUNT'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

🟡 pairing: san x afab!reader 🟡 genre: smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship 🟡 summary: in the coolness of an early morning, choi san reveals to you what it means to love in a quiet timelessness, where all that exists is you, him, and the sunrise. 🟡 wordcount: 5.3k 🟡 warnings/tags: fiance san, falling asleep in the living room reading together, sharing hoodies, just loving each other, summer season - yes it is spring but now it is summer because san said so, hoodie san, cuddles, hugs and kisses, sort of edited sort of not (lmk if there is intense chaos anywhere) 🟡 taglist: @doom-fics @legohwa @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven 🟡 a/n: seriously idk where this came from, all I know is that I have been occasionally mindblanking and... here we are. Much love and all reblogs, comments, notes welcome <3

🟡 nsfw taglist: the petname content is intense in this one (sun, moon, stars, summer, honey, darling, love... nicknames...), all the praise, lazy sex, no protection (wrap before tap c'mon), cum inside, cockwarming, sex while in a state of semi-dress, fingering, the softest dom san, basically a service dom

The early morning haze entranced you. An ever-changing palette, the walls of your living room appeared to take on a different hue every time you languidly blinked, still fighting the heavy remnants of sleep. After having forgotten to completely draw the curtains, the luminescence of the cheerful, expectant sun crept across the cold wooden floor in a shy line, barely caressing the cream wall on the other side of the room, centimetres away from producing a kaleidoscopic scene by hitting the glass inserts of the shelving unit. The soft cushions that lined the l-shaped couch, and the woollen throw that hid you from the chill, were a cloud suspended in a tranquil bliss. You studied the familiar, adored surroundings as they metamorphosed from a lilac wonder to a glowing mandarin masterpiece, the brushstrokes of a pastel pink, coating the awakening sky, peeking from the other side of the window, capturing your bleary attention.

Not a sound, except for the level breathing of the man beside you. The man who had your love so fully, so deeply that you were not sure if the slow thudding in your chest was real, or was simply an echo, a comfortable illusion that you had agreed to settle for just so that you could give the heart away for him to keep. He would most definitely keep it safe. Find a neat little box for it, and, if you were lucky, find a place for it somewhere between the books and the video game DVDs, and admire it whenever he would walk past. Or perhaps he would be crafty enough to find a way of putting it in his pocket and carrying it around with him wherever he went – that way, you could miss him less than you normally did when you were apart. Shame you only had one heart, because you would give Choi San the universe if you could.

Your fiancé was like the grand starry expanse in the night, paving the way for explorers, lovers, and mystical creatures alike, and the radiant manifestation of Apollo in the day, bestowing upon the earth a hope, a heavenly brilliance, a magic the secret to which only he knew. With each moment that passed, you had come to understand that there was always more to San. Be it hidden in a sigh, in an enchanting glimmer in his eyes or in a simple gesture, he was an ethereal enigma that you were shocked, and infinitely grateful, existed.

Careful to not disturb him, which was a challenge in its own right considering that you had used his broad chest as your pillow, you lifted the throw ever so slightly and rose into a seated position. You gingerly adjusted the material back, and twisted yourself to be seated on the edge, and facing the literal sleeping beauty before you. You let your eyes travel across his resting face. From his forehead that was obscured by adorably ruffled onyx locks that poured out from underneath his grey hoodie. To his eyelids and lashes that showed the tiniest movement, making the soft light occupying the room land onto the little hairs and turn them to white gold. Down to the perfect line of his nose, the tip of which you liked to plant a quick peck on when you wanted to see your fiancé get flustered. And to his alluring lips which were parted ever so slightly. In the somnolent daze there was an angelic quality to him, a peace that you wanted to sink into and never depart from.

This was one of the first mornings in a while, that you had all the time in the world to keep on staring. For the most part, it was either you or San, or both of you having to get up and rush out of the door for work after having snoozed the alarm a ‘healthy’ number of times. Which is why it was surprising that you were even awake – five o’clock was not exactly your usual territory, and if not for the summer season blessing you with longer hours of sunshine, it was likely that you would not have distinguished between dream and reality, and dozed off lulled by the rise and fall that came with San’s every breath. But your wakefulness had its beauty: there was no stress spurring you on, and the sight of your love beside you, serenity written across his features, made you grateful for the surprising perkiness. For this short while, your personal heaven could be committed to memory, and serve as a transformation for every future when you would need to ‘rise and shine’.

You spotted San’s reading glasses lying, discarded, between his body and the back of the couch, inches from being squashed, while the books you and him had been reading were lying in awkward positions on the floor, much to your amusement. Careful not to damage the pages any more than they had been, you reached to pick the novels up, momentarily studying the covers before marking the pages with what turned out to be a folded receipt and a post-it with the glue segment torn off, and placing them on the coffee table. You settled back into a seated position, tucking one of your legs under you and pulling down the base of your oversized tee. A shiver passed down your back, reminding you of the fact that the air conditioner, your saving grace after the summer heat kicked in, rendering natural ventilation impossible if you wanted fresh air not laden with pollution and unbearable humidity, had been running at full power all night. Only now that you have removed yourself from the human radiator that was your fiancé did you realise this, and began to construct an escape plan that, hopefully, would not break San's peaceful slumber. If you were lucky, perhaps you could snatch and save his glasses.

These small troubles, trivialities of daily life were what brought a smile to your face. Endearing dilemmas that left you confident that what you were experiencing was a continuous blessing. Tongue between your teeth, poking ever so slightly out of your mouth, you concentrated on stalking towards the spectacles. Having stood up from the sofa, you were in a half crouch, bare feet sinking into the soft carpet, with only the rumble of the air conditioner to accompany you. When you were already hovering above San's chest, arm out reached to fish out your target, your breath hitched as he shifted and smacked his lips, following the adorable gesture by placing his arm, which previously was your only line of defence against falling off the sofa, over his abdomen, which in turn made the glasses fall a little deeper, just out of your reach. You mouthed a 'now what', contemplating your next course of action - you were getting cold, but too stubborn to accept a so-called defeat in this miniature game of capture the metaphorical flag.

The only way out was to summon the powers of feline agility and hope that San decided to be a deep sleeper today. Knee sinking into the edge of the pillow, the stitching digging into your skin as you inched forward while trying to keep a toe still on the ground, a peculiar source of security for the case that a quick retreat might be needed. Fingers flittering across the material, reminiscent of the pitter patter of rain - every effort to blend into the dormant landscape, an accidental echo of a season recently culminated. Closer and closer, your leg was a mere few centimetres away from San's torso, and you were arched over him, checking for any sudden changes in his position. But he was still. Almost too still. You narrowed your eyes and scanned his face, but could not detect any difference, aside from his mouth now being pressed together, however he did that in his sleep on occasion, so you paid it no mind. Suppressing a shiver, what used to be careful manoeuvring turned into risk as you took one final look at what you determined to be the sleeping form beneath you, and made a reach for the glasses, quietly hissing out a congratulations to yourself as soon as you felt your fingers touch the frame. Just a little more and you would be able to go get a sweater. Or turn the air conditioning off. Perhaps, since you were still occasionally blinking away the remnants of dreamland, you would get a cup of morning brew ready, and properly greet the sunrise by lounging on the tiny, but nevertheless welcoming terrace encased in shimmering glass. Or so you had hoped, until, as you were making your so-called journey back, a strong pair of arms snaked around your waist, and sharply pulled you in, so you now found yourself pressed flush against your sleepyhead love.

“Hmm… where are you going?” San mumbled, voice deep and groggy, resonating right above you as you wiggled to nuzzle into his neck, triumphantly holding onto his specs with one hand, pleased with yourself for having accomplished your initial task.

“‘s cold, so I need something warm.” It always took some time for him to register what you would say to him as he was waking up – on a number of occasions, he had not been able to recollect a single thing. So you kept your words simple, but even that made him give an exasperated whine as he hugged you tighter and rubbed the side of his face against your head, resulting in his hood being pushed back to reveal more of the heavily ruffled locks of jet black hair.

“But you have me… Y/N…” while answering you, San had managed to kick away the blanket fully, so that it now formed a dark grey heap at the other end of the sofa.

“I didn’t want to wake you, love,” you whispered back, shutting your eyes and relishing in the sensation, “you looked so cute and so peaceful.”

“What?” the sudden question made you raise your head momentarily, only to find San squinting right at you, “Nah… no.”

“No? My Sannie isn’t cute?” you asked, voice tinged with playful disappointment as you let your head fall back down, and took a deep breath.

Much like the early morning light, the mixture of cotton and San’s cologne was unequivocally captivating. It was the scent of the lazy days, the moments when you would allow yourselves to fall asleep, much like today, on the living room couch, legs intertwined after having spent the entire evening reading. An aroma of an embrace, a slow dance and a humming of a tune that only you knew, the notes that carried with themselves the melody of sweetest memories. The interplay of hemlock and bergamot, accompanied by heliotrope and mimosa – when you had pestered San enough times, he had read the profile out for you, the brief paragraph now forever imprinted in your mind in his timeless timbre.

A hand travelled underneath your t-shirt, trailing up and down your spine a couple of times before settling on tracing random patterns on the small of your back. You stifled a gasp as your fiancé took to toying with the waistband of your tracksuit bottoms, and, still laden with sleep, grunted and uttered his short, gruff retort.

“Not when I’ve read what I’ve read… ‘m surprised I even fell asleep.”

“Oh? And what was it you read?” a soft grin settled on your face as you sank into the feeling of San’s hands moulding you to his heart’s content. Unable to settle for one place, they roamed your body, worshipping every curve.

“Mm… too sleepy to explain…” he leaned into you, and upon nudging you to lie down a little bit higher, trailed a series of kisses down from your jawline to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, “…but I could show you.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m more than interested.”

“Wake me up a little bit more and I’ll give you a spoiler.” One of his hands travelled to meet your chin, and tilt it forwards so that his dark, glowing pools of adoration could meet yours, pupils trained on every micro expression despite being cradled in a blur, contained by relaxed lids and wispy eyelashes.

“Such a tease, Sannie.” You whispered, and gave into San’s guidance towards his soft lips, closing the space between you.

The infinite gradient of the sky’s spectacular hues exploded in your vision, as love’s intimate caress ignited a radiance within. With every passing moment, just as the cherry blossoms twirled to the ground in a muted waltz, giving way to flamboyant hydrangeas and mystical lilies, you too, fell deeper and deeper only to bloom once again with a new evolved adoration. A love that grew day in, day out. A love that motivated you to go on until tomorrow, for you knew that you would love even more then, and come to understand the naïve emptiness that you had trusted to be infatuation in the past. Fuller and fuller the soul became. The fuelled up inner fire that contained and protected your safe haven and your eternal paradise. While lilac skies and lavender fields blended into a heavenly unity only for a season, gifting natural beauty for a fleeting appreciation of its temporary existence, the reality that you and San had crafted was evergreen. It was, of course, expected to waver, much like any flowers that were meant to bloom, but together, you would sway and intertwine, two lifetimes turned to one harmonious duet in an everchanging landscape.

New leaves and blossoms replacing those that wilted, but to inexperienced eyes, devoid of recognising the impeccable, intricate details of time, it meant continuity. It meant immortality and a youthfulness that did not know time. This was how life with San had been and will continue to be forevermore. Each tender gaze and caress, the sweetest sigh into your ear was a rekindling of something greater, and left you in an ecstatic daze. The invisible paths of his strong hands exploring every inch of skin left behind a budding desire as you thought back to the transforming garden of hues outside the apartment, now turned to a colourful prologue for the beginning of your hazy summer day.

“Tease… I’m very polite, I’ll have you know.” You giggled as San broke away from the kiss, revealing his lovable pout. Unable to resist, you pushed your free arm up and cupped one side of his face, running your thumb over the cheek, poking his nose with your own as you broke into a wide grin. The action had an effect on San as he moved and tightened his grip to your hips, not once breaking his gaze, while the expression changed entirely.

Like a traveller who had finally found their oasis after an eternity of roaming the scalding hot sands, persevering through madness, he revered you. An unfiltered, unabashed, quiet love that could only be felt amidst total tranquility emanated from him as he resisted the urge to never let go, instead relishing in the beautiful, fleeting instances that you could spend together. Timeliness had taught him to treat each moment with special attention, but with you, he need not try. You were the moment. You were the one who shared his rhythm. You were the meandering river that he would forever prefer and worship over a roaring, cacophonic ocean. Elegance, grace – an identity that could never be replicated. In the rolling tides of strangers, he would always search for where the river met the sea, and would marvel at just how quickly he gravitated towards you. His priceless love and life, the one with whom he wanted to see every sunrise and sunset.

“Well then, gentleman, care to warm me up? Since I have been so politely intercepted.” The attempt at a joke flew over San’s head, but nonetheless, your wish was rapidly granted as he propped up his left leg so it was bent at the knee and his foot was steadily positioned on the couch. Arms still wrapped around you, he gave you another peck and inquired, voice low:

“Y/N, may I… roll you over?”

“Yes, you may. See? Such a sweetheart.” Words of praise always found their way into your responses when it came to your fiancé. Sometimes to obtain his shyness – a breath of spring, or relief – to last the autumn and the biting winter, or, like now, to lie down, impressed at the evoking of the blazing, sultry summer.

He encouraged you to give up any balance you had, and with impressive care switched you places, so that you were now the one resting on a fabric pillow, enveloped between the echoes of San’s body heat on the material, and the man himself, who had one arm on either side of you, and a goofy, proud smile adorning his features. Unable to contain yourself under his intense scrutiny, you raised the glasses you had been securely keeping, and unfolded them to try place a barrier between San and you. But to no avail. Reading your intentions, what used to be a pure cheekiness suddenly gained a darker colour, that of an intimate dusk, and lifting a hand, he hooked the spectacles right out of your outstretched hands, and raised an eyebrow.

“I can see you pretty well, darling. I am more than awake and focused now.”

He tossed the glasses onto the coffee table, sighing in relief as he saw them stop their sliding journey right before the far edge, which earned him a rolling of the eyes from you.

“All these efforts to get them, and you are ready to throw them into oblivion, yeah?”

“No idea what you mean, all I see is that everything is how it’s meant to be.”

The strength of his glances as he brushed your hair out of your face was reminiscent of the sun at its zenith, while the kisses he peppered on your forehead, flushed cheeks and longing lips were the rays of sunshine that would trickle down from the skies through cloudy barriers. The contrast in his light touches and their intentions as he slid a hand under your t-shirt and found your bare breast was immersing you in your personal summer. Your head fell further back, and you let out a satisfied sigh as San took the opportunity immediately, searching for the sensitive spot on your neck.

Taking his time, San nipped at it, while sending your mind into a disarray once his hand pinched your nipple and began to rub languid circles over its very tip, sending an electrifying shock to your core. One kiss after another, he was soon sucking on the sweet flesh, proudly giving life to a garden of unbridled lust spurred by a desire to show closeness. San wanted to melt into you. Melt with you. No embrace was close enough when souls could be together, and so through intimacy and the approach of ‘a small death’ did he strive to express his adamantine devotion to you. Any evidence of your harmony was nothing but heavenly music for him, and it was with pride that he claimed you, and was elated when you claimed him, be it in gratitude, in bliss or in frustration for your yet to be released high.

Your hands snaked themselves around San's perfectly sculpted torso, pulling the hoodie and the black tee underneath, higher and higher, until you could slip beneath, and your cooler skin touched his. The action made San stop his teasing and chuckle against your neck, while his body reacted automatically to roll his hips against yours, member concealed by layers of clothing growing more prominent and pressing against the material of his bottoms.

"Cold." The comment, uttered hoarsely though holding nothing but excitement for what is to come encouraged you to tilt your head and kiss San’s jaw, preparing to return his little, colourful favour.

"Told you."

"Mm, I know a way to fix that." Alas, you were not fast enough, and he lifted himself off you, the loss of contact making you whine. To remind you of his proximity, one of his legs remained between your thighs, knee too close to your core for you to interpret his steps as unintentional, innocent, serene.

With one final smirk in your direction as he caught you eyeing his body voraciously, San took off his hoodie, and motioned for you to sit up – only for him to grab your hand, and cautiously pull you towards him, grinning once you understood his mission and raised your arms above your head. It did not matter – the design, the colour, the cut… any item of clothing that belonged to him, in his opinion, looked better on you for the simple reason that it could hug your form, be an extension of him if he was away and could not wrap you up in his arms. At times, when you were showering, he would purposefully replace your clothes with an item of his just so the scent of your favourite shampoo could linger, and your image would be even more easily imprinted in his mind. Not that it was much of a challenge in the first place, but having all of his senses being preoccupied only with perceiving you was a state he wished could turn into permanence.

“Ah, but there’s a catch, my love.”

“Come on…” you whined and fluttered your eyelashes.

“These,” he grabbed onto the waistband of your tracksuit pants, “off.”

“Yes sir.” As soon as you uttered the phrase you noticed a lustful darkness flash in your fiancé’s gaze, one which he, much to your surprise, suppressed and shook his head.

“Y/N don’t do this to me, or you will not get up ‘til sunset.”

“If that’s your plan, would I even be able to get up?”

“And that’s why I want to make love, Y/N. I want to love you quietly… lie down for me, darling?” he requested, interlacing his urge with the words of one of your favourite poets. A tenderness in his directing you, how he reduced the bottoms and panties he had hooked along with them to a mere accessory on the floor, and how he caressed your thighs, revering every detail, was leaving you breathless. But, just as he was approaching your exposed, aroused sex, you called out to him, reaching for the hand that was resting on your leg.

“Then look at me.”

“Hm?”

“I want to see your pretty face, love.”

The dimples that fell into his cheeks as he beamed at you, crawling up to be right by your side much like a cat would, and letting you roll over so that you were nose to nose, sharing hot breath, made you fall in love again. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say ‘rise’ in love, for when you were like this, vulnerable, and yet so totally safe, you felt like you were soaring.

San took no time in finding your lips, relishing in the stifled moan that escaped you as his fingers teased your moistened labia. A leg resting over his, you were enamoured with the gentleness of his worship of you. The tip of his tongue begged for entrance and elicited a muted sigh as it entered to explore you. With an approving hum, San curled his digits and let your walls clench around him, as he proceeded to set an unhurried pace, knowing you, knowing how to coax out every feeble mewl and build you up to an unforgettable ruin. You had the luxury of time, every worry replaced with the opportunity to connect and combine into one.

There was an added pleasure that came with the surpassing of the excitement of your relationship’s novelty. The intricate mapping of your fantasies had now taken on a new level of complexity, and the sequences transformed into a language only you and San shared. Delighted in the lewdness of sound that was produced by the relaxed pumping of his fingers into you, the gorgeous man further deepened your kiss by taking the strings of his hoodie, now adorning your frame, and drawing you in. Whatever illusion of space between was now entirely gone, and all that existed for you was San’s touch, San’s fragrance, San’s body heat, and the knot in your stomach that was getting tighter his thumb ran circles over your aroused clit.

There was no urgency in his movement as he unravelled you, even though, as you adjusted your positioning, you became aware his stiff erection. The sudden friction caused San to gasp, and, when you brushed your leg against his again, to test the waters, he pleaded, voice ragged and airy:

“Let me take care of you, honey.”

“But San-” you protested, hand palming his length, but denied as he kissed the response away from you.

“You’ll help me out with that later.”

“But I can get an early start.” A final attempt, only spurring San on to push his fingers deeper into you, massaging your pussy until he hit your most sensitive spot, earning a yelp and an approaching tender pulsation.

“Needy for this cock, huh?”

“Ah…What happened to… mfph… sentimental lover boy?” you joked through shallow breaths, choking out every word as you clung onto San’s t-shirt for support in your approaching high.

“I’m still here. Still here… You look beautiful, Y/N… taking my fingers so well, dressed up in my hoodie…” he praised, emphasising his role in your unwinding. Gazing at the love bites he had left on your soft skin through hooded, lust-filled fog, he was motivated to give you any satisfaction you could possibly desire.

“Sannie, please… ah that feels so good…”

“Please what, darling? Hm, tell me.”

Continuing to relentlessly abuse your g-spot, San sweetly took in your writhing form, enjoying the power that he had in this moment, while a ray of the morning sun crept across the floor towards you, traversing the territory of the living room like a foolishly courageous voyeur.

“Faster, please…”

“But it’s so early sweetheart, don’t you want to take it easy?” he inquired, knowing full well that you would not give him a well-structured response, intoxicated by the intensifying arousal, climbing closer and closer to a climax.

“Ah… please… Mm… I need…”

“Elaborate, or I cannot heed to your caprices.”

“I need you inside me.”

“Is that so? Well, I can’t deny you anything, my love.”

Reduced to a whimpering mess, you waited with bated breath as San shuffled to finally push down his trousers and reveal his throbbing member, now adorned with rivulets of pre-cum after having been left abandoned while his digits satisfied you. In a matter of seconds, you could feel its tip against your folds, gliding up and down the slick until you inadvertently bucked your hips towards him, unable to hold on for any longer without a stronger stimulation. Luckily, San was in a loving mood, and submitted to your silent begging. Soon enough, he began to drive into you, so agonisingly slow so as to not force how perfectly your pussy accepted him, and once his pelvis was flush against yours, embraced you. He strived to have you entirely, as if, even when you were with him, he missed you.

Overwhelmed by the fullness your head tilted forward, your forehead meeting San’s as he barely withdrew his cock, and re-entered you, mumbling fuzzy words of praise at how well you were taking him, and just how heavenly your soaked cunt was as he went deeper, rocking his hips upwards to drown himself in your heat.

The world on fire, skin lapping against skin like waves of a mountainous current, painting the landscape in the hues of a blazing sunrise, much like how hedonistic desire washed over you. It grew at an alarming speed until it was threatening to bloom, a crimson rose of undying attraction and adoration for the man who was offering himself to you as your cunt clamped around him. San was entranced by you, and wanted more than what ‘more’ could signify, lifting your leg and throwing it over his to bring you to your sensual demise. Your grasp of his tee tightened as the pounding became hungrier, and you dropped the act of being able to contain a portion of your moans, letting the salacious melodies go right by San’s ears, interlaced with expletives and your beloved’s name.

With every affirmation to roll off your tongue that he had only recently confronted with his own, he would grind harder into you with ease, now that you were propped up just how he wanted you. San could never get enough of your flushed cheeks as the ripples of pleasure ran through you, with his cock rendering you speechless, muscles tightening in anticipation of a crashing orgasm. Only feeble, high-pitched gasps bounced around the walls of the living room, blending into the warm ambiance as your climax hit you – a monsoon, the season controlled by none other than your fiancé, who kept up his flow, mumbling barely coherent phrases:

“So gorgeous, my love, that’s right. Come for me, come over my cock-”

It was not long after your orgasm that his thrusts lost their steadiness, San’s grip on your thigh grew unbelievably tight and he dived to find stability in the dip between your shoulder and neck, leaving feathery kisses and biting the area to suppress his low grunts, now turned to helpless moans that served to prolong your own high.

The erratic motions of his hips culminated in a series of deeper thrusts as he buried his dick as deep as he could inside you, groaning as ropes of cum painted your still-pulsating walls, that seemed to be pleading for more, greedily taking every drop. You rolled your lower half a couple of times, ecstatic from the dizzying fullness that his cock and thick release provided, causing some of the cum to ooze out, threatening to coat your inner thighs. San had no plans on moving, at least not until mist lifted from his consciousness, and he could conjure up at least one thought that did not relate to having you again.

While his dick twitched inside you, you attempted to remain as still as possible, regaining San’s attention by whispering his name. Through half-lidded eyes he gazed back, sending you a shy smile so endearing, and so much brighter than every star, contrasting the remnants of earlier intimacy in the form of a bead of sweat that concealed itself under the hair that fell over his face, and the reddened, plump lips.

“San?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d say I’m very warm now.” He chuckled, making you bashfully glance off to the side, catching the reflection of the sky in the coffee table. The simple ability to hear San’s husky voice as he drifted with you in post-coital bliss, an arm lazily resting on your waist, was a blessing.

“Anytime, my love.” He matched your lightheartedness and squeezed your side.

Your precious sun and moon. The one with whom your heart beat in unison, the one who had read you like a novel, front to back, back to front until he could recount every detail better than you ever could. Time stood still as you lied there, on the couch, sharing addictive nectar and basking in the afterglow. The day only beginning, the room decorated in a light gold hue. Unwilling to part just yet, you shared another kiss with San, in adoration for how the early morning haze entranced you.

#ateezlovenet #kflixnet #k-labels #san x reader #choi san x reader #san x you #choi san x you #san x y/n #choi san x y/n #ateez san x reader #ateez san x y/n #ateez san x you #choi san smut #san smut #ateez san smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez fluff #choi san fluff #san fluff #ateez san #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez imagine #kpop imagine #kpop writers #kpop writing

[dilatorywriting]

Hi hi! So this is a request for the 4k followers thing and if it sounds like word vomit I apologize cuz I have no idea how to word this. Could I ask for prompt 10 ("I think we should go to dinner first.") with mc x azul? The scenario here is like that one twitter post that was going around awhile ago about how a falls first but b falls harder, with a being azul and how once he realizes his feelings he resigns himself to forever pining from afar bc he's convinced himself that any relationship between them would be doomed to failure since mc is from another world and would have to go home someday. But while mc is a bit dense when it comes to their own romantic feelings they've always been an upfront person and as soon as they realize they like him they kinda just,,,, barge into his office and say so, and I feel like the sentence prompt would be said by azul after a pretty intense make out session (maybe nothing spicy spicy but yeah) where at the end oh yeah he remembers he's a gentleman

Also after a bit of searching I found the twitter post I was talking about

Gender Neutral Reader x Azul Ashengrotto Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 10: "I-I think we should go for dinner first."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Azul had been avoiding you.

Which was so strange and wholly out of character that the first few days of it went by in a weird sort of fugue. You hadn’t even noticed an entire week had passed in blissful, mafioso-free silence until you were heading to your Friday night shift at the Lounge and realized you hadn’t seen your favorite octopus even once. Normally the House Warden was fluttering around you like a scam artist to an old folks’ home. Poking, and prodding, and ‘ah, Prefect, I know you weren’t a fan of the last contract, but perhaps this one would suffice, hmm?’

And when you arrived in the little, employee-only locker room—still fully unbothered and not offered even a single opportunity to sell your soul—you wondered if maybe he’d gotten sick.

You were in the middle of taking some Savanaclaw student’s order when you finally saw him at all. Just a quick glance out of the corner of your eye to catch his shining, silver head of hair popping into his office. You smiled brightly and offered a wave. But Azul only went stiff and closed the door with a bang.

Which was…

Huh.

“Is Azul feeling okay?” you asked Jade between running an armload of drinks to a table of Pomefiore students.

The eel hummed and gave you one of those smiles that never really looked like it was meant to be a smile. “Our fearless leader is clinically sound.”

You frowned. Because that felt like one of the Vice Warden’s non-answers that he’d throw your way sometimes like a taller, meaner older sibling holding your favorite toy just out of reach.

“So he’s alright?” you pressed, hesitant.

“Oh, I never said that,” he chirped pleasantly, before ducking off to go catch the stack of plates that Floyd was in the process of juggling through the kitchen.

The bubbling panic popping in your gut was the worst sort of tummy ache. The kind that spread its miserable pain until it’d left your chest hurting, and head spinning, and something deeply wrong throbbing at the heart of you. Because Azul, despite his inherent tendencies to treat you like a particularly stupid pack mule, was still your best friend. The person you cared about most in all the world! Sure, he enjoyed bamboozling you and your fellow students, but, like he hadn’t done anything genuinely malicious in ages now! Like a paid hitman retiring into selling seedy vacation timeshares.

The idea of him just—just not wanting you anymore struck something horrible in you. Of finally realizing that the silly little human from worlds unknown wasn’t worth the wobbly pair of legs you were standing on. And it left you feeling small, and afraid, and—and—

“Oh? Are you feeling unwell, Prefect?” Jade called from somewhere behind you.

“Does Azul hate me?” you blurted out before you could help yourself.

The eel blinked his bi-colored eyes at you—slow and unbothered. Perhaps a bit surprised, if you had to put a name to the expression. Jade’s face was like that sometimes. An enigma. Like someone had wired him up just slightly wrong when putting it all together. On any other living creature, that sap-slow nonchalance would have certainly bordered on outright boredom, but you knew him well enough to know there was at least something else going on there.

“Why would he hate you?” he asked, equally dripping and slug slow.

“Because—!” you squawked, and waved your hands around your head. “Because!”

“I see,” he nodded. And then latched a gloved hand onto your shoulder and steered you back towards his boss’s office. He didn’t even bother to knock before wrenching the door open and shoving you inside.

Azul looked up with a start, eyes gone wide behind his glasses and jaw slack.

“What’s going—”

“The Prefect is on the verge of psychotic break,” Jade chirped helpfully, with a closed-eyed smile. “Please be delicate with them, hmm?”

And then slammed the door shut all over again. Leaving you alone with the guy who might have only very recently started to hate your guts. Or—or maybe he always had! And maybe you’d just been really, really dumb about picking it up! You wanted to scream. Or hide away forever. Azul looked like the latter was an exceptionally tempting idea, and you could see his blue eyes flicker around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

But the idea of him running away from you, that you’d never see him again—that he didn’t want to ever see you again—had something horribly enlightening clicking into place in your brain.

“Are you okay!” you asked, so loud it nearly rattled the furniture. And Azul flinched in surprise. “Did I do something wrong!”

“What?” he blinked, startled. “Of… Of course not.” He cleared his throat and stood carefully, making his way towards you in the manner one may approach a rabid racoon hiding under their porch. “Perhaps you should take a seat—”

“I can’t!” you cried, frantic. “Not if you’re upset!”

Another of those owlish, outright consternated bouts of blinking. “You can’t sit?”

“No!” you wailed. That prickling, hot, tight feeling nearly overflowing out of you. “Not if it’s my fault!”

His expression twisted up into something mulish and embarrassed, and he reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a soft huff.

“…it’s hardly your fault,” he said, sounding so stupidly sad that you just wanted to—to—

“How can I fix it?” you tried, panicked. Because he didn’t want to be around you anymore, and you couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t!

Azul sighed, gaze shifting away yet again. He offered you a tight, little smile that felt like all sorts of lies. “It’s alright, Prefect. Truly. It’s just something…” he trailed off, that forced smirk twitching off his lips like he couldn’t help it. “Something I’m learning to live with, hmm? Nothing terrible, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t have to live with something that’s bothering you,” you argued, firm. “You’re the king of fixing other people’s problems. You’re more than allowed to use all those connections and stuff to fix your own!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t really work like that,” he tried, awkward, and you steamrolled on.

“Why not?! You’re amazing! And fantastic! And I love you so much, and you should never have to be upset about anything. And if you’re not in my life for the rest of my life, I’d rather die!” you wailed, and gasped—clapping your hands together like the idea that had just blossomed in your skull was just beyond brilliant. “We should get married!” And then, to sweeten the deal, “Think of the tax benefits!”

“I—” Azul choked, going as red as a tomato. “Y-You—”

“—love you very much!” you finished helpfully.

He ducked his face into his hands, like he could scrub the blush right off his cheeks if he tried hard enough.

“Y-You can’t—” he spluttered into his gloves. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “It’s true!”

Azul’s shoulders hunched up like he was trying make himself very, very small. And then after a long moment of near hyperventilating into his palms, he finally looked back over at you from behind the shield of his fingers.

“You…” he swallowed. “You love me?”

You nodded, certain. Becauese what else could that warm, bright, all-consuming thing be in your chest be but that?

“You,” he said again. “Love me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, never more sure of anything than that. “And we should get married.”

Azul choked again and went back to hiding behind his fingers.

“Unless…” you started, trailing off as something horrible and unsure squirmed through your chest. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. It should be your choice too. Just because I love you, doesn’t mean you have to love me, y’know?”

“That’s not what I said!” he squawked, head snapping back up so fast he nearly knocked the glasses off his face. And then he went red all over again, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he was reaching up to pull the rim of his hat down over his eyes with a curse. “I just…” he began, muffled behind the fabric of his overcoat. “Maybe… dinner first?” he choked. “Before the proposal.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. “Of course. That makes sense.”

“That makes sense,” Azul echoed, sounding like you’d come up from behind him and walloped him with a baseball bat rather than just suggested a completely rational and beneficial mutual engagement. “I… I don’t know why I’m surprised at all.”

You quirked a brow. “Were you… expecting me to say that?” you asked confused.

This time he did look back up at you fully. Hands lowered, and the shield of his collar gone and all. The smile he sent you was small but so, heartachingly warm that it had butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“No,” he hummed, sounding impossibly pleased. “I really, really wasn’t.”

.

.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #My Writing #Writing Prompts

[beautiful-despair]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓸 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝔂

*The TV turns on to show a commercial. You see the silhouette of what you assume to be a beautiful woman, laying on her bed. She speaks to you in a calm and seductive tone.*

???: "Hello there, sweet little cubs of the wild~. Are you tired of your boring day to day life~? Do you feel burnout from a long stressful day of working retail~? Life kicking you in the ass and crotch at the same time~? Well then, allow me to give you the chance to find the perfect paradise for all your woes~." *The lovely maiden snaps her fingers as a lovely sign appears on screen.*

???: "Welcome to Club Despair, where our delightful remnants will do all that we can to help ease your woes~. We take your despair and, to put it in a simple way, convert it all into bliss and pleasure~. And no, it's not through sex, Making that clear now. We're not hookers. ಠ_ಠ" *The screen changes again to show the interior.*

???: "Stop on by and our lovely remnant hostesses will bring you a sense of calm, happiness, relaxation that we know you've long for~. Fufufufu~. Each girl has been training specifically for the sole purpose of making sure that your despair is a thing of the past. Feeling thirsty? Try our large selection of wine drinks that will give you a small buzz in your heart. Try out a wonderful selection of meals prepared by our expert cooking team in the kitchen, where your taste buds will drown in delightful bliss~. Fufufufu. We also have entertainment of the highest caliber and wonderful music of any genre that you may request~. Note that there is a voting system in place, so don't get upset when your pick isn't chosen. Deal with it." *the screen changes show a bunch of beautiful ladies standing across from one another as our mysterious speaker walks down the lane.* "I do hope that our little tour was enough to convince you to drop on by. We are so eager to meet you in person~. Until then, please remember our club's motto~. Tell 'em, girls.~"

Everyone: "Take delight in a Beautiful Despair~!" *They all blow a kiss at the screen while winking at said screen. A big heart appears and pops, showing you the phone number and location of the club. It does look pretty interesting to say the least. Why not check it out?*

@oddblogfullofoddmuses @ultimate-disinterest @the-aikido-master @hopeless-protagonist @ichi-peachy @notsobloody-wrenchs @atuas-artist @class-105 @ultimate-azure-assassin @hopeful-warriors @quiet-therapist @ask-ruruka-ando @dusty-attic-bedroom @pick-and-shovel-laborer @junko-enoshima-ii @photographic-misery @ask-ultimate-mortician @ask-the-ultimate-cosplayer @your-divine-priestess @mikado-sannoji @deadly-despair-gadgets @ask-oumeno @ask-the-otonokoji-twins @edens-garden-au @project-ultimate-children @perfect-bloodcovered-family @the-shy-pony @japanese-ultimateautism @doomed-despairs @gentle-lies @the-princess-of-despair @recovering-remnant @thehypnoticsnakedomain @hopeful-hopelessness @the-plushie-togami-sisters @ask-shsl-scribe @hopes-memorial @the-plainest-of-janes @ask-kuro-twins @smiles-and-scars @morals-and-florals @bloodstains-and-bloodsuckers @mercy-of-the-ashes

[songsofadelaide]

King Laios x succubus!reader who are both doomed by the (my) narrative™️ because: he is being pressured to find a wife to secure the future of the kingdom but he simply cannot help his fascination with the only (not so) monstrous creature that managed to bypass the Winged Lion's curse— a succubus who was shunned by her coven because of her lack of appeal and inability to seduce victims.

You swore that you weren't there to steal his life force, which easily convinces Laios to strike up a friendship with you (despite Marcille and Kabru's dissuasion). You visit him every night to converse with him about kingdom affairs. He doesn't ask questions about how you feed and maintain yourself since he considers it a private matter. You bond over his desire to see monsters again and your wish to form a more meaningful tie with humans.

The more time you spent together, the more you realised just how enticing his energy was to you, so you disappeared— not wanting your growing desires to pose a threat to the only human who saw you as an equal, who saw you as a friend.

Many years pass but Laios never married, opting for the wisest men of the kingdom to select his successor among the most brilliant men of the land instead. He often wondered where you were and what you were doing. Some nights, you let your curiosity get the better of you and check in on him, and you feel somewhat relieved that he shared his bed with no one else.

One night, he caught you leaving through his window and cornered you. He asked you where you've been and what you've been up to, and even commented about how your beauty hasn't changed even after all those years. You remarked on how handsome he still is even though he is already an old man. He finally asked you the most taboo thing of all: what did you feed on?

(You tell him the truth: You fed on the life force of living creatures— not enough to hurt them, though— rather than having intercourse with men. How could you bring yourself to harm humans after being friends with one?)

Laios was both pleased and relieved with your answer. He then offered you to take his remaining life force, eventually admitting that he wanted to offer it to you long ago but was afraid you'd rebuff him or be offended. You granted him a night of blissful dreams but not enough to bring him to his grave and vanished from his life for good— in fear you might kill him from loving him too much.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛 #mari's prompts 🎠 #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #laios dungeon meshi #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #i break my own heart sometimes #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

[holdinbacksecrets]

the moment that empties your head

seungcheol: when he wakes you up on accident while carrying you to bed and whispers lovingly to wait a moment, that you’ll feel the mattress’ comfort soon as if his arms aren’t enough

jeonghan: when he leans into your palm and his eyes close beneath the comfort of your proximity

joshua: when he ties your hair back and the urge to tighten the ponytail doesn’t come— isn’t necessary

jun: when he smiles into a kiss

soonyoung: when he’s asleep beside your reading self, his hand finds some part of you, and the crease between his brows fades

wonwoo: when he takes your hand while walking home and his thumb rubs circles against your skin

jihoon: when he disappears into the darkness of his closet to gather clothes for you to sleep in and he stands in his bedroom for a moment before excusing himself, suddenly stuttering at the thought of your bare skin

seokmin: when he laughs so hard he falls into you and you’re enveloped by his warmth, by his aliveness, and his bliss embraces you

mingyu: when he asks you to stand up so he can take your seat before patting his lap. you fall asleep with your head against his chest ba dum ba dum ba dum

minghao: when he told you to close your eyes and relax because you can trust him before cutting your bangs

seungkwan: when he calls you back to say he loves you and you can tell he stepped away— gained distance from the loud evening so you could hear him properly

hansol: when he wrapped an arm around you from behind before guiding your back into his chest as the platform crowded while waiting for the train

chan: when his eyebrows furrowed across the dinner table and he mouthed are you ok because you hadn’t eaten a thing. he’d excuse himself to heat up the broth he brought and stuck in the fridge upon arriving because he tracks your period and knows you’ve hit the ten days of doom

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen blurbs #seventeen imagines #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #hansol scenarios #chan scenarios

[anna-dreamer]

Finwean generational trauma is so real. I imagine, after Maglor and Maedhros kidnapped the twins, there was a clear and brutal understanding that that was not them giving those children a good life; but also, also, with Maglor and Maedhros being prone to the Oath, with their lives and souls tainted and fractured by bloodshed and murder and violence and loss and despair, they'd think there was no chance in the void for them to make something good out of it. Not with the Oath, not with the Doom, not with the way their father was. Their grandfather, due to whatever eldritch horror haunted his childhood in Endorë, felt that he had to have as many children as possible, so that his family would not fail and he wouldn't be left alone and scared in the dark. As a result, their father, abandoned and traumatised and angry, felt that he had to have as many children as possible, so that he would never be abandoned again, alone and scared in the dark. And he made sure of that. He had seven children, and he tied them up with an unbreakable Oath that would sooner destroy all of them than let them give up on him. So many hurts in this family were attempted to be healed with the use of children. And now here are Maglor and Maedhros. Alone and scared in the dark. True, there are two little boys on their hands, yet they have already wronged these boys so deeply. If there is a small chance of salvation or even redemption through them, Maglor and Maedhros would not take it. Besides, it would not work anyway. Refusing to repeat the old pattern is a first step in the right direction, and on itself it wouldn't be enough, but...

But then Eärendil appears in the sky. This is Elrond and Elros' father up there - and at the same time there is Fëanor too, because it's the silmaril that shines, the unobtainable, unreachable, illusory silmaril, like a father Maglor and Maedhros still desperately long for. Oh, but he will not come back. He is as far away as any star in the sky. The twins can't have their father back, and neither can the last two Fëanorians.

And then it hits Maglor. True, his brother and him are Doomed. True, there is probably no happy ending for them two. But it doesn't have to be this way for Elrond and Elros. With whatever strength and will to live and hope that he has left, he will try to do better by them. Maedhros would try to argue, but Maglor would tell him, They did not have Fëanor for a father! And they will not.

He can only hope that his genuine love and care he will give to the twins is just enough for them to turn out better than Maglor and Maedhros did. Maglor and Maedhros took them in. Now they are responsible. They will try. If redemption comes, it's not through acquiring someone to love you, but through loving them as sincerely and selflessly as your broken heart can. And if redemption doesn't come at all, so be it. It was not about redemption anyway. The second step, to consciously break the chain, is made.

Alas, it does not work as well on Maedhros. He doesn't feel this bittersweet bliss. He has fallen too deep into despair. And as soon as Elrond and Elros are gone, it becomes not enough for Maglor to heal either. He has just enough hope left to argue with his brother whether or not to go for silmarils. But all those last years spent alone with Maedhros sucked a lot out of Maglor, and nothing is left, apart from the feverish devotion, Nelyo knows better, Nelyo always knew better, like a dark shadow of Father always knows better, we will follow him and we will die for him if needed... No matter that Maedhros is not in his right mind. Neither was Fëanor. Their father's Oath is intertwined with their love for each other, and it binds them together ever stronger. Maglor would not leave Maedhros. But Maedhros loves his brother too. He might have not been healed by a star, but he is still Nelyo. The big brother. And while he could not break any vicious circles with his life, but with his death, for his last surviving brother, he would try.

It was not enough for Maedhros or Maglor. But it was enough for Elrond and Elros. With them, Finwean generational trauma was healed. The chain was broken. And i firmly believe that, despite their own trauma, both ultimately had healthy and happy families.

And if Maglor is still out there, Elrond will find him. He will finish what Maglor - his father - has started.

#maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #silmarillion #finweans #are a mess #but it gets better #With headcanons like this #does it even surprise you i love Maglor so much #he who probably thought himself a coward #was actually capable of quiet but powerful deeds of bravery #silmarillion headcanon #feanorians #finwe #feanor #sons of feanor