#and like. even if it is not all angels would be

[elfwreck]

There's a lot that white men can do to counter the incel-to-nazi pipeline that the rest of us cannot.

There is ZERO amount of support that a woman can provide for a guy who says "why can't I get laid like all the cool guys in the movies?" Zero support she can provide for "howcome women are all friendly with each other but when I walk into the room, everyone goes quiet?"

Nothing she can say to help him understand why his appearance is considered a potential danger. That info has to come from someone he trusts, someone he respects - and if he's asking "why does this random group of [women/Asians/queer people/etc] not instantly accept me as a friend and ally" - he doesn't trust or respect them well enough to understand their answers.

Because, sorry dude, you are not friend-shaped. You are suspect because so many others who look like you and talk like you and have similar backgrounds to you, were discovered to be bigots just waiting for the right excuse to be public about it.

Are there good white cis het guys? Of course. There are even good Christians.

But I can't spot them from a distance, and I don't have the energy to review every one I encounter to decide if they belong in the "safe" bin. They stay in the "maybe unsafe" bin until proven otherwise, and I sure as hell don't have the time to check them all.

Guys who want to prove they're safe can start by respecting boundaries.

...This means NOT pressuring people who say "no." No, I don't want a date. No, I don't want to take my earbuds out to chat on the bus. No, I don't want to sit next to you at the bar. No, I don't want to dance with you. No, I don't want to share my fries. No, I won't review that report for you. No, we don't have space in the carpool. No, we don't have an extra ticket to the game.

Because we have discovered, over and over, that a whole lot of "I am an ALLY, REALLY!!!!" guys are only an ally until someone tells them they're not wanted in a particular group, or as part of a particular project, or (sigh) in someone's bed.

I don't see cis het white (christian) guys as scum of the earth. But a lot of them think I do, because I don't see them as angels, either. They get upset because they start at "neutral, maybe dangerous" instead of trustworthy and respected.

"Why don't they trust me?" I keep hearing.

"What have you done to make yourself trustworthy?" I ask.

"Done? Why should I have to do anything? I am trustworthy!"

...well, that's the problem. How would anyone know that?

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[xoxochb]

“who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm?” it’s jason grace, your honor

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

jason was utterly screwed. from the moment he had entered cabin one and saw you of all people laying atop his bed (yet again— who the hell else would be?) of course it was you, it just had to be you. why couldn’t it have been a harpy coming to eat his intestines? or past monsters seeking revenge? but no, of everyone it was you. he knew that he had training in— by now— under a half an hour but he couldn���t help the fact that right now you had never appeared to be more ethereal, the way you’re wearing his sweatshirt, on his bed, with your bare legs sprawled along it, and the soft light peeking through the thin curtains, like as if the sun had known just exactly how to illuminate your face to make you look like a elysian angel

swiftly, he makes his way to his bed where you sit. you flash him his favorite soft smile of yours and his knees nearly buckle on the spot. you were so doing this on purpose. you close your book and place it on his bedside table before patting the spot beside you for him to sit. and he does, most definitely, without another thought lays beside you. should he make a move and risk being late to training? or perhaps allow you to sit there and look perfect while he suffers horribly? he chose the first option. he urgently connects his lips with yours, sliding a hand underneath his/your sweatshirt. you attempt several times to call out his name, maybe for an explanation as to what the fuck he’s doing, but you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing or why he’s doing it because you’re just happy he’s here and he’s kissing you

with his free hand, jason holds your jaw to assure you can’t part from him as his tongue swipes over your lower lip before you part your lips so it can enter. he lets out a hum of satisfaction when you grant him permission, surely taking full advantage of it. while on the other hand (quite literally), his fingers trail downwards to loop around your lacy underwear, currently the only thing you had been wearing underneath the sweatshirt. painfully slow he slides them down your legs (but again at the same time it was incredibly swift), yet still unsatisfied with the clothing you had own, he pulls back with a frown. with a quiet “life up a little” you elevate yourself from your position so he can remove his/your sweatshirt from yourself before you lay back down as his fingers now find a pathway up your bare thighs

and without a warning (though you should’ve seen this coming), he plugs two fingers into you, eliciting a strangled— somewhere between— a moan and a gasp from you at the sudden pleasurable sensation. his pace begins slow, starting off easy so you can adjust to him at once. but, soon enough he quickens it. you murmur some incoherent ‘sentences’ between soft noises, and as his fingers curl inside you, your mind turns into complete clouds, stopping anything but his name to leave your reddened lips. you tug at his blond hair as you feel yourself growing closer to your climax. what even more so makes your breath grows (progressively) ragged is when you feel an electric shock flow through your veins, once, and twice. at this point you’re completely starry eyed, you arch yourself into him for further pleasure, your moans becoming louder, your legs shaking about ready to collapse beneath you, your hair sticks to your sweat-veiled face— you’re a mess

finally, his fingers curl into you once more, bringing you to the edge. slowing down by only a tad, he continues working you, prolongs your orgasm as you dig your nails into his biceps and you cry out his name. and with one final swirl through you, jason slides his fingers out of you and meets your tear-brimmed eyes with a smirk

“sorry ‘bout that. you look gorgeous in my clothes though, have I told you that before?”

[golden-ebony]

Omg I adored your 10’s a crowd fic!! What if Logan was with a reader who loved the color pink! Their bedroom had pink everything, even wearing pink! You can make them innocent if you want but imagine how Logan would just find the reader so angel-like coming hard surrounded by bright pink pastels🤭

Handsome in Pink‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 1.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, sub!Logan, hand job in the mirror, PRAISE, p-v sex, unprotected sex, a lil cum play (kinda?), a lil orgasm denial

♡ Note: Just a quick lil thing because love a lil sub!Logan and I love the color pink. I specifically envision worst!Logan for this, but do as you please

It wasn't something Logan had noticed about you at first. Pink. Typically, it was something subtle like your nails or just one piece of your outfit like that short little number that drove him crazy. When you causally mentioned that it was your favorite color, it all clicked for him. It wasn't just what you wore.

It was the little coral trinkets and floor mats in your car. It was rose gold key ring. It was the baby pink lace panties that poked out when you reached across his lap to grab the remote. They were all different shades. You saw rose, millennial, salmon, cherry blossom, etc. Logan, on the other hand...

"Hm, the site says pastel but then sends this," you groaned as you eyed the skirt that arrived in the mail.

With furrowed brows, Logan crossed his arms. "Ain't that pastel?"

"It's more bubblegum than pastel."

"But it's pink."

"You don't get it."

Logan would be the first to admit that he didn't exactly have an eye for fashion or design, but when he saw your room for the first time, he knew he had never seen so much pink in his life. There were a variety of pinkish hues were broken up by white furniture and flourishing green plants. The pastel bedding mixed with darker pillows and blankets somehow worked for Logan.

Logan had never seen a room like this. And by god, he had never experienced pleasure the way he did in that rosy room.

Your preference for pink gave people a number of preconceived notions, Logan included. A number of those assumptions were correction. Sweet, romantic, sensitive, tender—these were words that could describe you.

Innocent wasn't one of them. And Logan learned this in the best way possible.

"Look at you, baby," you cooed, feathery kisses lining Logan's shoulder. Both on your knees, you were flushed against Logan's taut back. Logan's large figure towered over yours. Still, you had a clear view of the man in your standing mirror. Your slight hand, wet from a mix of your own saliva and his pre-cum, was wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your nails of your other hand slightly tranced circles onto his back. "So handsome, so big...so good for me."

Logan's chest heaved and abs clenched as you tried to control his breathing. It was overwhelming for Logan. The feeling of your frilled, cerise bralette against his back, your warm hand steadily pumping him, your soft stare gazing at his reflection.

It would be easy for Logan to thrust his hips into your grip, control the pace. But there was something about giving into you, surrendering to your alluring spell.

"Fuck, sweetheart..." Logan's groans came deep from his chest as he tried to ignore every dominant instinct he had. "I need to touch you. Please darlin'."

You relished in his begs and pleads but continued your pace. The deep growls that were emitting from his chest was proof of thin his control was at. Your thumb grazed on his tip causing Logan's hips to unintentionally buck.

Your nails roughly dug into his back, earning a wince mixed with pain and pleasure. "Easy, baby...I think you're doing just fine with what you got, yeah?"

Logan couldn't find the words to respond. The smell of your peony perfume and your soft voice dancing through his head, being under your trance—it was intoxicating. Retraining himself, Logan dug his own palms into the sides of his thighs. He was a mess, and you both were loving every second of it.

It was like a high to watch the indestructible man crumble under the simple weight of your touch, knees digging into the cerise fleeced blanket. With ragged breaths and a twitching cock, you could tell Logan near his climax. You savored the strained breaths and groans that Logan couldn't help but release.

"You're gonna come for me, Lo." Your voice was just above a whisper, but you knew Logan heard you. You weren't asking; you never had to. Keeping your speed steady, you keep your eyes locked on his through the mirror. "Just let it happen, baby. Doing so good for me."

Logan's release was almost immediate as if he was waiting for your divine approval. His body clenched against your, feeling his release tighten every inch of his physique. He'd rather have painted your walls, feel you clench around him. But the feeling of taking ropes of his cum into your palm just to lather his still-hardened cock with it as he rode his high felt like something else entirely. As he watched you lubricate his cock further, his thoughts were completely taken over by your soft moans of approval.

"Oh, Lo, such a good boy," you purred against his shoulder. The sound of your praise made his cock twitch again. And you knew what he wanted.

You looked ethereal as you rode his cock. The sight of his cock continuously disappearing into your tight cunt—leaving a creamed ring in its wake—it was heaven. Logan was more than happy to watch you control your pace on his lap in exchange of finally being able to caress you. With a slacked jaw, his rough hands massaged your soft skin from your thighs to your ass, all while watching provide him levels of pleasure that he hadn't experienced in years. And he never imagined he'd feel this way with blushed, stringed lights in his vision field and rose, satin sheets smoothing his back.

Even when you told Logan not to come, not yet at least, Logan found that there was a level of pleasure of watching you get yourself off on his lap. Yes, flipping you over and hammering deep into you until you drunk from his cock sounded good. Yet, surrendering to your alluring call was something else entirely.

"Jesus, princess." He words were barely audible as his eyes roamed your figure. "So goddamn pretty."

Your hum turned into a worn gasp as you felt your climax on the horizon again. You knew ordering Logan to hold off on his own climax during your last one was difficult. As your grinds turned into bounces, Logan looked desperate. He needed to finish in you, coat his favorite pink walls white.

"I know, Lo..." You were practically about to come apart yourself, leaning down to pressed your chest against his. Your strained yet firm voice rang in his ear, "I need y-you to fill me, baby. S-so close."

His grip on your hips slightly tightened. His needy eyes looked in with yours, scanning for you permission to give you everything he had. He didn't see it but he sure as hell heard.

"Please, Logan, just fuck me! I need you, baby."

Like flipping a switch, his hips thrusted up into you with reckless abandon. Your cries were soon muffled when Logan's lips meet yourself in a searing kiss, but he needed to hear those pretty little moans of yours no matter how sweet you tasted. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he continued to mercilessly thrust into you, feeling the recoil of your ass against his hips.

The combination of his teeth nipping at your pulse and pounding deliciously close to your cervix made your eyes roll. You knew you were good at getting Logan to fall into a wave of pleasure just from your touch alone, but the both of you knew Logan could easily turn those tides.

"That's it, Lo. No one fucks me like yo—fuck!" Your voice cracked as your orgasm shot through your body quicker than you expected. Your nails dug themselves into Logan's shoulder as he continued to fuck you through your high. The cries of his name was enough to push him to his edge.

"Ah—shit! Thank you, baby, so fucking good!" With three final thrusts, Logan spilled into you, completely enveloped in a rosy haze. He came harder than he did earlier, entirely stuffing you with his arousal.

Clinging to your glistened figure, his mind was cloudy. The rose-colored sheets were definitely closer to cherry under Logan's sweating form. He couldn't conjure a singular thought as you slowly grinded against his, singing his praises. There wasn't a better feeling; Logan was sure of it.

If pleasure had a color, it was definitely pink.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[aemnd]

𝒹𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝒻𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦. ⎯⎯⎯ 𝙖.𝙩.

content warnings. -> minors dni. smut. afab. fem!reader. cunnilingus. incest. size kink. pet names. canon!aemond. dom + sub undertones. fluff, with dark undertones. obsessive & possessive behaviors.

𝓵𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦'𝘴 𝓁𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝓃𝘰𝘵𝘦— hihi. !!!!!! ♥︎🧸 first lil fanfic on this new blog :) i hope y'all enjoy reading, lil angels. ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১♡ pls rb & comment to lmk what y'all think. 💭

she was such a pretty thing— a shy, sensitive little angel, made from the moon herself, with a delicate heart and a doll-like face, always so sweetly naïve.

before the war, aemond had always thought her to be divine, enchanting with her natural-born beauty, something he coveted, clinging to the fantasies he would conjure up in his mind when he was just a boy, ready to snap at any moment to claim her as his.

and so, with time, and lots of effort and patience, as well as a bit of bloodshed and cruelty, aemond had finally captured his sweet little niece, claiming her as his fragile bride.

with a low hum, the corner of aemond's naturally curved lips curl up into a soft, lazy smirk, his dilated eye sharp and completely focused on his little wife, observing her naked, curled up frame in their martial bed, amused by the way she continued to pretend to be sleeping.

"my darling wife," aemond purrs, his voice a soft, but deep baritone as he walks over to her petite form, the sapphire that was stuffed into his left eye socket gleaming with obsession, a need to worship her, his perfect little goddess.

"'tis time to wake up, sweet niece."

"mmh... but aemond, i'm still so sleepy," she complains, her voice soft-spoken and sweetly innocent, luring aemond even more under her wicked spell, captivated by the way her slender limbs move to stretch languidly, looking just like a newborn kitten.

aemond's gaze lingers on her beautiful face, memorizing every detail, even the minuscule ones, unable to stop his eye from falling to her bosom, enchanted by her breasts— so beautiful and perky, deliciously sweet, with tiny little nipples just begging to be sucked on and teased.

"mh, perhaps i should find another way to get you out of bed, my sweet," he suggests, slightly mocking, almost taunting her as one of his large, calloused hands reach out towards her, his long, nimble fingers gently gliding across the smooth, bare skin of her inner thigh.

softly, she giggles as she shyly looks up at her beloved husband, squinting up at him with a cute, playful pout. "i think you just love to see me annoyed, husband," the princess complains, sulking, unable to keep herself from squirming underneath his feather-light touch on her skin.

"you just might be right, my love," aemond coos, his voice softened with faux sweetness, his lips curling up into a sharp grin, readying himself to feast upon his wife's luscious body.

before she can utter another word, her husband effortlessly grabs her by her plushy thighs, and then practically yanks her down until her ass meets the edge of the large bed, allowing him to finally settle comfortably between her spread legs— an offering as sweet as the finest ambrosia.

swiftly, aemond kneels before her with a hungry glint in his remaining eye, his lips parted slightly with the need to taste her, to devour her sweetness, to consume her completely.

"aemond... p-please, do not tease me," she begs breathily, sounding so pretty for him, all needy. with little patience, aemond leans down until his face is hovering right over her slick, glistening cunt, her tiny hole fluttering and clenching with the need to be stuffed full of cock.

with a small, satisfied smirk, aemond breathes a light chuckle, his sapphire eye sharp and gleaming as his remaining eye focuses solely on his beloved wife's face, adorably scrunched up in anticipation.

"do not fear, little wife," aemond croons, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across her mound, listening to her soft mewls and sweet sighs of pleasure, making the prince snicker underneath his breath, his lips now ghosting right above where her puffy clit laid concealed by her delicate folds.

"i swear to you, upon my honor as a targaryen— i shall worship this delectable little pussy until you're writhing and begging me for release," he promises, parting her slippery folds with two fingers, grinning sharply as he reveals her little fuckhole, hypnotized by the way her tiny cunt flutters and clenches around nothing, leaking with her arousal.

swiftly, aemond's tongue darts out, licking a slow, deliberate path along her leaking slit, savoring the sweet honey that was her arousal. he groans in approval, the sound vibrating against her most intimate area, causing his innocent wife to squeak sharply, a soft, feminine noise of pleasure echoing and bouncing off of the walls of their chamber.

"mmh, so fucking delicious... you were made for my pleasure, weren't you, sweetling?"

she gasps sharply, her back arching off the bed as aemond's skilled tongue makes contact with her sensitive flesh, teasing her with gentle licks at first before he begins lapping at her eagerly, a low growl ripping through his throat as he feasts on her drooling cunt.

with a girlish shriek, pleasure sparks through her like lightning, igniting a desperate ache deep inside her womb.

the pleasure aemond gives her is always so intense, so overwhelming, nearly suffocating, and yet, she cannot help but crave even more from him, addicted and hungry for more, always more.

it was never enough, she could never get enough of him, and just like herself, her beloved husband was always in need of her as well, an obsessive need to take, to claim, to own… to belong to each other.

"ohh... gods, y-yes! please, aemond," she whimpers, her soft-spoken voice all high-pitched and needy, her fingers tangling in the long, silky strands of aemond's silvery hair, urging him to continue on. "m-more, i...i need... i-i need..."

her hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction against the velvet stroke of his skilled tongue, not caring how pathetic she must look trying to grind her cunt on her husband's blissed out face.

soon, her mind reels, struggling to comprehend the onslaught of sensations, the sheer bliss that threatens to consume her entirely. she feels so alive, so taken, so utterly possessed by the intense, stimulating pleasure that aemond gives to her.

"a-aemond, it feels... t-too much!" she squeals, delirious and whiny with her intense, building pleasure, feeling as if her own pleasure was nearly suffocating her.

aemond's eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he hears her frantic pleas, her body trembling beneath his ministrations. he redoubles his efforts, lapping and suckling at her clit with increasing fervor, determined to push her to the brink of ecstasy.

"that's it, sweetling... let go for me," he growls against her dripping folds, the vibrations adding to her torment. "i want to hear you scream my name as you come undone for me."

aemond's fingers join the assault, plunging two digits deep into her fluttering fuckhole, pumping steadily as his tongue continues its relentless stimulation on her swollen clit.

humming softly, aemond's free hand reaches up to palm at her breast, rolling and pinching the sensitive nipple, further heightening her arousal.

"mine, you're all mine, wife," he declares, his voice thick with desire.

not a second later, her world narrows to the point of aemond's tongue, his fingers quickly fucking into her, the searing touch of his large, masculine hands on her most intimate places. she's drowning in sensation, her mind fragmenting under the force of her impending climax.

"yes, y-yes, yours!" she wails, her voice ragged and breathless, unable to stop squirming and writhing helplessly beneath his mastery. "p-please, husband, make me... make m-me..."

a choked sob escapes from her pouty lips as the first waves of her orgasm crash over her, her inner walls clamping down hard around aemond's thrusting fingers. her vision whites out, stars exploding behind her fluttering eyelids as pleasure rips through her like a tempest, leaving her gasping and shaking in its aftermath.

"a-aemond!" she squeals, girlish whines continuously falling from her quivering lips.

aemond feels his wife shatter beneath his touch, her release gushing forth in a flood of slick desire. with a small, devilish smirk, he works her through it mercilessly, prolonging her pleasure until she collapses back onto their bed, spent and panting.

with a final, lingering swipe of his tongue, aemond withdraws from between her shaky thighs, crawling up her trembling form to capture her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, making his little wife taste herself on his lips, salty-sweet and intoxicating.

"you're exquisite as always, little wife," he murmurs against her mouth, his own still tinged with the evidence of her passion, "however… we've only just begun."

⎯⎯𝓯𝘪𝘯,

[optimisticmosquito]

What if Shen Yuan was transmigrated into Shang Yuan, youngest son in the merchant Shang family and Shang Qinghua's little brother.

At first Shang Qinghua doesn't put much thought into it. He never did write much of a backstory for the other peak lords, so it makes sense the world has kind of just, written itself? Shang Yuan is several years younger anyways (I'm thinking 7-10 years) so it's not like he has a lot in common with him either. Shang Qinghua even joined CQM when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Shang Qinghua was fully prepared to just slowly fade out of sight and mind in his new family, just like he had in his old one.

Except this kid just really hates his guts? He gets letters regularly from his family, telling him how a-Yuan has been asking about him. But every time he visits the brat just shouts and kicks him around. All out of sight of their parents so he can't even go and complain to them! In their eyes Shang Yuan is their perfect little angel.

Honestly, Shang Qinghua isn't even that surprised the original goods turned into a villain if this was how he grew up. And oops, did he say that out loud? Shang Qinghua peeks down at the rigid brat he's holding under his arm in an attempt to stop him from trying to beat him up. With big eyes the kid turns his head up and whispers "you're a transmigrator too?".

From that day on Shang Qinghua can't help but feel a little bit less lonely, and maybe even a little happy. Who would have thought his number 1 anti fan would transmigrate into his didi! They start writing letters, both complaining about the system, and Shang Qinghua about the sect and his martial siblings. When he starts working for Mobei-jun he tells Shang Yuan everything about it. He even has a reason to go back and visit his family!

Shang Qinhua quickly accepts his responsibility as gege. Helping (or trying to) his little didi grow up to a nice young man and giving tips when Shang Yuan starts cultivating as well. And despite Yuan-di's tsundere behavior, Shang Qinghua knows he has his back as well.

In his own badly written stallion novel, Shang Qinghua finally finds the family he didn't have in the real world.

Now as for pairings. Bingyuan would be hilarious just because I want Shang Qinghua to ask, with a shit eating grin, how long Shang Yuan has been coveting his own nephew. And then for Shang Yuan to try and beat the shit out of him for it.

Jiuyuan would also be an interesting pairing (it can always be a jiuyuan if you're brave enough). Shang Qinghua knows his scum villain is misunderstood and not as bad as the book and rumors portrays him to be. But also he knows Shen Jiu is at least a dozen traumas in a trenchcoat. Does it really have to be his didi helping Shen Jiu deal with all of that? Sure Shang Yuan doesn't seem to mind, but Shang Qinghua also knows his didi makes some really stupid choices if you take your eyes off him. But also he's too much of a coward to say anything to Shen Jiu's face.

Hm, better to keep an eye on that from a distance.

[starkeyvhs]

cw: frat rafe x fem scholar reader, small mentions of alcohol / wc: 250 / masterlist

Rafe wanted to seem unattainable to you, just like he did to everyone else. He wanted to be the person you text all night, but then the next morning the moment you passed him in class, he would simply ignore you. He wanted to playfully flirt with you, call you pretty and intelligent and gorgeous, and then not pay any mind to you. He wanted to glance at you across the crowd of a frat party and pass a wink, maybe even come up behind your back to wrap his arms around you and murmur a few words against the shell of your ear, and then just simply pretend not to know you when asked from someone else.

But he just couldn’t.

You had him reeling in a different way, and the late night texts weren’t enough; he wanted to talk to you all day. The flirting wasn’t playful; he thought you were absolutely angelic, and it showed through how you just didn’t seem to ever get off his mind. He was quick to be by your side at any party, to make sure you were safe, no one said anything to you, and no one attempted to drug your drink. He danced with you on the dance floor as long as your heart desired, and then got down to his knees to take your heels off for you when your feet started to hurt.

You were softening Rafe Cameron.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[possiblyreallyme]

Ace thinks you're unbelievably pretty

warning: simp Ace, smut, oral (female receiving), praise/body worship.

Ace thinks you're the prettiest woman in the world, no matter what you or anyone else has to say about it.

No matter if you think your eyes don't look right, he'd stare into them and get completely lost. No matter if you don't think your nose fits your face, he kisses the tip of it and giggles anyway. No matter how weird you think your teeth are, you have the prettiest smile he's ever seen. No matter if you're shaped like a brick, or a pear, or an hourglass, he's swooning over your figure and telling the guys to look because damn, have you seen his girl?

From top to bottom, inside and out, Ace is in love. You could be the hottest model this side of the Grand Line, or the most average-looking girl in the world, and I promise you, he'd think you're an angel sent from heaven just for him.

The way you look when you yawn— a not-so-flattering face in your eyes— is simply adorable in his. When you're laughing and you hide behind your hands or turn away, he's quick to turn you back to him so that he can put a face to the beautiful noise and fuck, he's never disappointed.

And the faces you make during sex? God, he's begged to whip out a camera to capture it to hang it on the wall every single time. You think it's rather ugly, when your mouth goes open and leaves all those crinkles and lines in your face, brows furrowing in a way you'd rather not see or have anyone else see for that matter, drool dripping down your chin because he's just so big. But he thinks it's the prettiest face in the world, to the point he's crying and calling you beautiful, cumming deep in your womb while he starts to rut into you and thumb at your twitching clit like an animal.

Oh God, and your cute little pussy? He can't get enough of it. On his knees with your hips high in the air, effortlessly holding your weight while squishing your ass in his palms and lapping at you like a dog. Your upper half laid out on the floor of his cabin, clawing at the wood while blood rushed to your head and made you dizzy— he couldn't even wait until you got to the bed before he had ripped off your clothes and dove in face-first.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart, holy fuck-" He honestly couldn't believe it, despite seeing it a million times. He's seen pussy before, on raunchy videos and the magazines the crew passed around when Whitebeard wasn't looking, and yet none of them were anything like this— part of him was tempted to bend you over in front of the crew to show you off, but the other part of him wanted to keep you all to himself.

"She's beautiful, babydoll, tastes like heaven." He could barely speak through your folds, lips still pressing heady kisses to your pretty cunt just like he would your mouth after a long mission away, and yet he only just fucked you this morning. "Y'hear 'er? Yeah? She's as mouthy as you are," He groaned, sounding so proud of the cute little noises tumbling from your lips, your walls squelching obscenely when he latched his mouth around your entrance and fucked you with his hot tongue once more.

"Hmmm, see? She's tryin'a get a word in, tellin' me how good 'm fuckin' you." How could you be so perfect? How could you look, act, and even sound like an angel— something a dirty pirate like him shouldn't even be touching, and yet he can't bring himself to pull away.

[wickjump]

lvl20 cross is my no.1 enemy btw. if i see him there will be an unspecified lethal weapon in my paws and it will be pointed in his general location

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel (part 4)

Y/N fails her exam and has a slight miscommunication with Harry, but he takes care of her. (4k words)

warnings: angst, smut, 18+, squirting (sorry i got carried away), fingering.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Y/N woke up with a sour feeling in her stomach. She'd been on edge since the weekend, dreading today because her psychology exam results were coming out, and she knew she hadn't done well.

She remembered how exam week had lined up with her period, the dull ache in her head making it nearly impossible to focus or prepare like she wanted.

Harry had been there atterward, pulling her close, covering her in kisses, and telling her how proud he was and how she'd done her best. In those moments, she'd felt a bit lighter, as if the weight had lifted. But now, as she thought about the results again, that same heavy pit began to settle in her stomach.

Y/N's day was off to a terrible start.

Nothing had gone right since morning.

She'd nearly slipped in the bathroom while brushing her teeth, burned her breakfast because she was so lost in anxious thoughts, and then, on the way to university, a creepy guy wouldn't stop staring at her. All she wanted was to hide away in Harry's room, wrapped up in his arms, safe on the couch.

She wished she could call Harry and ask him to be with her, but she knew he was busy preparing for his own exams. He had a calculus test in a few days and was buried in studying. She was thankful she hadn't chosen calculus this semester—she'd probably flunk it for sure. But Harry was such a nerd, so smart and hardworking, she knew he'd get through it easily. The image of Harry buried in his book, glasses perched on his nose, brought a smile to her face. He was just too cute. 

Y/N sits in the library, her laptop open in front of her. She nervously chews her nails, contemplating her recent life decisions. Closing her eyes, she whispers, “It’s okay,” and clicks to view her grade, silently praying for a passing mark.

She failed.

A big, fat D stares back at her from the screen. Her eyes go glossy as she struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. Embarrassed, she glances around, hoping no one saw her screen. The thought of telling Harry makes her stomach twist—Harry, who always believed in her, his favorite girl. Part of her wants to call him, to feel his comforting embrace, to hear him tell her it will be okay. But another part worries that he might be disappointed, maybe even embarrassed. Harry always calls her smart and brilliant, but how would he react to this? Would he laugh? Would he be ashamed?

No, she tells herself, he would never do that. He loves her; he always takes care of her. Her grade wouldn’t matter to him—she can always retake the test, after all. Taking a deep breath, she decides. She should definitely call Harry.

Harry doesn’t pick up. Y/N tries calling him three times, but each call goes unanswered. She texts him, but the messages remain unseen. Frustration and exhaustion settle in, and she decides she can’t stay at the university any longer. Packing her laptop, pouch, and books into her bag, her stomach growls, reminding her that she skipped breakfast after burning it earlier. She decides to stop by the campus café on her way home.

But as she approaches the café, she sees him—Harry. Her Harry, leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Emma. The same Emma who never missed an opportunity to get close to him. And worst of all, they’re laughing together. Harry says something that makes Emma throw her head back in laughter, standing far too close to him. Y/N stares from a distance, her eyes stinging with unshed tears and a headache starting to build.

Harry and Y/N have been dating for a while now—ten months, and she trusts him completely. She knows how much he loves her and that he’d never cheat. But her chest aches at the thought that he might’ve ignored her calls just because he was busy with Emma. Y/N feels so alone, so vulnerable with everything that’s gone wrong today. 

When Emma places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, Y/N feels a spark of anger she rarely experiences. She’s not usually the jealous type, but today has been a disaster, and her emotions are all over the place. All she wanted was to be with her boyfriend, for him to comfort her, but he's... occupied. 

Of course Harry would enjoy Emma's company, she thinks bitterly. Emma, who's so good in all her classes, probably never fails at anything. She's beautiful, with her blonde hair, perfect white teeth, and tall, slender frame that seems to match Harry's so well. Unlike YN, who feels foolish, even small, in comparison. She's never felt this insecure, this low, and right now, she just feels... dumb.

Blinking away her tears as discreetly as possible, Y/N turns and walks back to her apartment, her appetite gone. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was confused. He was finally done with his studies for the day and wrapped up to go home. He was so excited because he can finally spend the night with Y/N, whom he hadn't seen for two days. He had been so busy with his exams that they did not get time to meet each other. He missed her terribly, and now he just wanted to go to her apartment, cuddle with her, and just be in each other’s presence. She’d been the first thing on his mind all day—the person he’d wanted to see as soon as he got a break from studying. 

He fumbled with his keys as he opened the apartment door, unlocking his phone to make a call, but his eyes widened when he saw that Y/N had called him three times in the afternoon. “Shit,” he whispered, mentally cursing himself for silencing his phone. He dialed her number back, but the calls went unanswered. He tried texting her, but there was no reply. 

Sighing, he slouched on the couch. His muscles were sore and achy because of sitting in front of his laptop all day. That made him think of Y/N’s touch—the way her hands would move over his shoulders, soothing every ache, her voice soft and calming. The thought only made him miss her more. His hair was all messed up and tousled, eyes red and sunken behind his glasses, and a face with exhaustion written all over. 

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to have a proper meal all day. He was so buried in his books that he forgot to eat. But that did not matter. Now he just wanted to be with her, to talk with her, to breather her, and to share a meal with her. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N was a mess. She had been crying for the past two hours and couldn't understand why her tears wouldn't stop. Her face was all blotchy and red. Her eyes swollen with tears, and she declined Harry’s call yet again. He’d been calling nonstop and even texted, asking if he could come over. But she didn’t want him to see her like this—all blotchy with snot covering her face. Y/N knew she was being immature, but her feelings were hurt, and she just wanted to let out everything that had been bottled up since the morning. 

Cuddled on her couch with a blanket wrapped around her as she stares at his contact yet again. She couldn’t help it. Finally, she texted him not to come over, saying she was busy. Harry would just assume she is busy with her assignments. She tried to come up with some other excuse, but she knows if she had told him that she was not well, he would rush over to see her. 

God, Y/N couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

She knew she should just call him and, for the truth, talk to him and clear the air, but right now she just wanted to be alone... with no one around but her broken heart. 

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

Harry visits Y/N the next morning, His night went by tossing and turning, unable to get a wink of sleep, so upset after her text message. There was a sour feeling in his chest, one where he couldn't quite put a finger on. He knew Y/N well, and she never acted like this. Even when she was in an unpleasent mood, she never refused to hang out. This was the first time she had ever done something like this, and he couldn’t help but worry. Weird thoughts started creeping up his mind. But he pushed them aside and made his way over to Y/N’s apartment. He wanted to know what’s wrong and if she is okay. 

Harry rang the bell twice, but there was no response. Concern tugged at him, so he tried opening the door, and thankfully it was unlocked. Slipping inside, he made his way through the quiet apartment towards her bedroom. When he reached her room, he paused in the doorway, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of her sleeping peacefully. A frown took over his face when he looked closely at her puffy eyes and red cheeks. Wondering if Y/N had been crying. He couldn’t help but advance his steps towards her bed and carefully sat beside her. His fingers traced her features: the stray strand of hair, the fallen strand of her delicate nose, and her pouty lips. She looked like an angel, his beautiful angel. 

Y/N stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes, which was somewhat an effort because of how late she had been to bed after exhausting herself. Blinking up in surprise, she sees Harry,

Harry, who was sitting beside her and his fingers playing with a strand of her hair. 

“Harry… What are you doing here?” Her voice barely above a whisper. Y/N sits up, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, pulling her blanket closer around her. Seeing his face clearly after two whole days, worry written all over. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you." He said softly, “You wouldn’t answer my calls last night. And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He murmurs, but his face fell when she looked away quickly, avoiding his eyes.

“I am fine,” she mutters sharply, looking down at her lap. Harry frowns at her response. 

“You don’t look fine, love. What’s going on? Did I do something?” 

She takes a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears that are threatening to pour any second. She hated herself for not being able to control her emotions during such times. She looks down at her lap, trying her hardest to avoid his gaze.

“You didn’t answer my calls either, Harry. I needed you. Yesterday was... hard for me. And you..” She pauses, taking a breath. “You were with Emma.” 

Harry’s brows knitted in confusion. Then realization dawned on him. His expression softened, and he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Y/N, no. My phone was on silent because I was studying, and I didn’t see your calls until later. I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. And Emma..” Harry shakes his head and takes a deep breath before saying, “Baby, she is dating Alex. She just wanted to know, ask me a few things to plan his birthday party, since I’m his close friend.” 

"Oh,” whispers Y/N, more to herself as realization dawned upon her. Her fingers nervously pick at her cuticles. She’d been so stupid, so dumb, to jump to conclusions. 

“You’re not stupid.” Harry says softly, as if he can read her thoughts. He knows her tendency to blame herself for even the smallest things. 

“I just.. I failed my psychology exam, Harry.” She admits, her voice breaking as she sniffles. “I felt like everything was falling apart, and you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think.” Her cheeks were red with tears.

Without hesitation, Harry pulls her into his arms, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. She buries her face in his neck. His clean, masculine scent gives her comfort as she clings to him and straddles his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

“I am sorry, Y/N." He murmurs, “I should’ve been there for you, but failing that exam doesn’t change anything about how smart you are. You’re going to get through this. And I’m going to help you however I can. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

Hearing him say these words instantly brings relief to her, her mind instantly relaxing, easing some tension from her body. The weight of failure soon dissipates. She clings to him tightly. How could she ever think Harry would be ashamed or embarrassed of her? 

He is right—she will get through this; failing an exam doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. It was just a stupid test. 

After a while, she pulls back, feeling much better. “I just felt so alone. I didn’t mean to doubt you.” 

Harry gently lifts her chin and presses a soft kiss on her forehead. “And I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't reach me. I love you, Y/N. The last thing I want is for you to go through something like that by yourself.” 

Her lips curl into a smile. Her heart is still racing at the sound of his ‘I love you’, even though he says it to her so often. “I'm sorry too... for jumping to conclusions.” She whispers back. 

Harry smiles, his thumb brushing away a tear. “C’mon, no more tears, okay? Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll have breakfast together.” He suddenly stands up, with Y/N in his arms, making their way to the washroom. Y/N laughs at his antics. 

He sets her down on the counter, handing her toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. She takes it and starts brushing her teeth, keeping him caged between her legs. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After she was done brushing her teeth, they peeled off each other’s clothes while stumbling into the shower eager. The hot water cascaded over them. Harry applied shampoo to Y/N’s hair, his fingers massaging her scalp gently. She tipped her head back in relaxation, letting her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sensation. His touch felt like heaven. He felt like home; it all felt so natural. She loved these domestic moments—showering together, cooking for each other, sleeping in each other’s arms—like they were meant to be. 

As Harry rinsed the shampoo from her hair, his hand drifted to her shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns into her tight muscles. He was tracing every curve of her neck. Y/N shivered under his touch. Harry hated seeing his baby stressed, exhausted, and drained. He wished he could take all her worries away. 

His hand then moved to her front, cupping her breast in his soapy palm, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Y/N let out a soft gasp, resting her head on his shoulder now, her eyes fluttering shut. How had a sweet, comforting moment turned into something heated? but she didn’t mind. Not when it had been so long since they’d touched each other like this. They hadn’t had the chance to initiate anything with each other in a while because of their busy schedules. So naturally, Y/N was very aroused by his simple touch. 

Harry began planting slow, deliberate kisses along her bare, wet shoulder while his fingers continued to caress her breasts. He could feel the tension in her body and how she was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. “Feels good, yeah?” he murmured huskily, his voice thick with desire. She nodded feverishly, unable to form any words. 

As Harry stood behind her, she could feel him, his hard length pressed against the curve of her ass. The feeling sent a thrill through her. Unable to resist, she pushed back, grinding against him slowly, teasingly. Harry’s breath hitched. She felt a sharp inhale against her ear.

A smirk tugged at her lips; she knew what she was doing. But she did not expect a sharp sting of his palm on her ass. The slap was lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped at the contact. 

"Behave,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low with arousal, nipping at her ear lightly. Her pussyclenching around nothing, she could barely hold back any longer. She was so wet, drenched with desire, her wetness coating her thighs. She wanted him to touch her pussy, make her cum—

In the next moment, Harry turned her around and pressed her against the wall. She gasped at the cool contact with the tiles. He captured her mouth with a heated kiss, sucking her bottom lip. His lips moving hungrily against hers. Her mind was spinning. It took her a few moments to process. Her body arching as she let out a soft, needy moan.

Harry groaned in response. The kiss was messy and passionate, as if they were trying to make up for the lost time. Harry began trailing kisses down her throat and sucking a sensitive spot below her ear. He needed her to know this—how much he’d miss her. He dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Y/N gasped as the heat of his mouth came into contact with her cold nipple; he started sucking gently while his other hand played with her other breast. 

“Harry, it feels so good,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her eyes closed, her hand tugging at Harry’s hair. 

Harry looked up at her, his gaze dark with desire and lust. Seeing her so needy, so desperate for him, he loved her like this. He wanted to take care of her with pleasure and satisfy her needs. Without any worry, Harry dropped down to his knees. He hooked one of her legs onto his shoulder, his fingers slipping between her legs and playing with her wet slit. He looked up, meeting her eyes as he brushed his thumb on her clit. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping, baby,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with need. 

Y/N’s breath hitched, fingers tightening in his hair, as in the next moment he dipped his head and licked a long path from her opening to her clit. “A-aah, yes,” Y/N breathed out. Her moans became more loud as he began sucking her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. His both hands gripping her waist tightly, He smirked at her response. Y/N tightened her grip on his hair and began grinding against his face. Harry groaned in response, the vibrations making her legs shake. 

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with lust as he muttered, “I need to have this sweet pussy for breakfast every day." With a smirk, he dove back in, devouring her like she was his last meal. 

The filthy, dirty words made her feel gooey inside, a warmth spreading from her chest to her core. She’d never understand where Harry got his filthy mouth from, but it always stirred something deep within her, making her brain all mushy and puddled, like she could barely think straight. It made her want to do everything that he said, every sinful thing he whispers in her ear, with that husky and deep voice of his. 

Finally, the deep bubble of pleasure in her belly burst. Her vision hazy, her head tipped back as the loud moan escaped her lips. Just at the right moment, Harry thrust two fingers inside, curling them up. It sent her over the edge. Her back arched as she moaned breathlessly. Harry groaned into her as he felt her walls clenched around his fingers. Y/N squirted, her pussy fluttering, as she tried catching her breath. Harry, whose face was now wet with her release, was lapping up every drop of her arousal like a starved man.

Y/N never thought she could squirt; never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Harry making her squirt, but it felt so euphoric. She was so sensitive, shivering at every flick of his tongue. When she managed to look down, her breath hitched. Harry was still on his knees, his face wet, eyes closed, lost in devouring her. But what caught her eye was the way his own cum dripped down his abs—the evidence of his own release. He had cum without even being touched, just by eating her out. The sight made her clench around nothing.

Harry looked up at her, following her gaze. It took a second to realize what she was staring at. He glanced down at his abs; his face flushed an even deeper shade of red in embarrassment. 

Y/N quickly pulled Harry on his feet, his cheeks red, lips glistening with her arousal, and eyes dark and hypnotizing. Y/N leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers. Pouring every emotion she couldn’t quite put into the words. She could taste herself on his lips. They both pulled away, resting their foreheads together, trying to catch their breath. 

Harry laughed breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess, I got a bit carried away, huh?”

Y/N’s gaze softened as a smile curled on her lips. “Seems like you had a good time down there.” She teased, her fingers tracing circles on his abs. 

Harry chuckles as he pecks her nose. “You have no idea.” He admits. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After they both actually showered and cleaned each other up, tired and exhausted. The hot water relaxing them, Y/N leaned on her toes and began applying shampoo to his head. She loved that he smelled like berries now. Harry wrapped her in a towel and then dressed her in his shirt—the one he’d wore that morning. It reached her thighs, and it smelled like him. It felt like home. 

While he himself walked around shirtless, just in his gray trousers that slung low around his hips. Not that Y/N minded; she loved the view. 

Harry made his way to the kitchen, quickly preparing a breakfast for her. He scrambled some eggs and poured a fresh glass of orange juice. They both had their meal while being in each other’s arms, tugging at the corner of the couch. His arms wrapped around her tightly. 

This morning felt like heaven. Y/N decided she wanted every morning to start like this, filled with sweet words, kisses, and gentle touches, without the crying part, of course. 

She felt Harry behind her, bringing her back to reality. “I’m going to tutor you for your psychology rest, baby. We’ll go over everything, and you’re going to do great; I just know it,”

He murmurs, reassuring while pressing a chaste kiss on her cheeks as she felt all the worry leaving her body. His confidence in her made all the worry drain from her body. She knew she would pass the next exam, with him being on her side. 

[skay-ali]

Tears of an angel

The idea of ​​a Wayne reader, who was well received from the beginning at the mansion and by its members, has constantly crossed my mind. A good family relationship that took an obsessive turn, not only with his family but also with other people.

A weapon, your head felt pressed with great force, so much so that, if you didn't make an effort to keep your head up, the force would surely send you to the floor.

There were many people, an endless number of blurry faces that surrounded you, they were horrible, it made you nauseous to see them, although some were also reindeers, it was difficult for you to recognize them, not only the criminals were vile, sometimes even people who seemed normal hid big things, you learned throughout your life.

Of all the possible hostages, you were the first to be threatened, you regretted leaving your home, you should have stayed locked in the safest place you created.

Yes... you should never have gone out, all your thoughts repeated it to you, you were wrong to leave your safe space, now you were surrounded by people and criminals, when it was over the cameras and the reporters' unconscious questions would come, thousands of news stories about you, the majority that would leave you feeling bad, and the feelings of guilt that would torment you for a long time.

You inhaled air, it became difficult to breathe, if you didn't control yourself you would panic, you would create a big scene, you couldn't do that, it would ruin your image more, you were already doing it while crying silently, your appearance was horrible, your hair disheveled, makeup ruined , a red nose dripping with snot.

You were a Wayne by blood, that was proven by your DNA, along with the similar characteristics that you inherited from your paternal grandmother.

You remember having been in this house all your life, the memories related to your mother were few, mostly blurry, difficult to distinguish from your short childhood and adolescence in the care of your father, as if your mother had never existed.

Your life was almost good, although there was a gap between you and your family, you did not receive excessive neglect, hatred or jealousy from each member of your family.

You were like a rarely recurring character in everyone's life.

The bad things in your life were not reflected in your relationship with your family, that was the least of your problems, something insignificant in your opinion, with what was happening outside.

It's funny to think about it, your father, you knew very well that he thought, that you lived one of the best lives, you really did, you had a family that never mistreated you, a good home and money, many privileges hand in hand with the latest , but that great privilege brought you something bad and terrifying, something that began to rule your life.

Being part of a large family made you a target, first of criminals, who took full advantage of using you as a means to achieve their ends, from criminal minds who kidnapped you as a hostage for their evil plans, as criminals who only wanted a great reward on your head, although in the end you were saved by the city's great vigilantes or the police, nothing took away the long moments of anguish, in which you were trapped in a dirty place, full of unknown people with bad intentions, vulnerable , having a gun pointed at some part of your body.

They were very difficult moments, fear ruled you along with paranoia, you did not normalize it as part of your life even if they were constant episodes in your life, you developed a trauma, one of your defense mechanisms was to disconnect from your surroundings, letting your body lived everything and your mind turned off, everything was black or white, a great void, until they saved you.

As a helpless person, who was in constant danger and only waiting to be saved by his brave knight, even though he wasn't that bad, you felt completely useless.

Things became worse, when you started to be afraid to leave your home, you became a complete renegade, in your big stone tower, a burrowing mouse or was it a rabbit... an asocial being...

How would you not be if your second problem was that, the social ones, people who, since school, persecuted you, wanted to be your friends or so they said, like a stupid and naive girl you believed them the first time, until you saw how they abandoned you When they already got what they really wanted from your father, suddenly their friendship no longer worked and they left you, often disowning you, as if you were a bad person because of your status and money, you were not seen as a girl who hardly understood their around and that he feared society itself, each person.

You couldn't even trust kids your age anymore, they all wanted to destroy you, finish you off.

The third problem in your life, the reporters and paparazzi, who harassed you every time they could, it didn't matter that you were just a minor, they found a way to get what they wanted and make you look bad, take advantage of every part of you. , without caring about the consequences of their actions, the repercussions that occurred in your life due to their news.

The horrible photos, where you hated seeing yourself, just an imperfect and horrible being, that was you... Your last problem, you... you hated yourself, maybe you were a bad girl, someone selfish and super annoying along with all the other insults professed by people who already got something from you or never did and were no longer chasing you, useless... very useless, that you were not able to protect yourself and avoid getting into trouble, you bothered everyone, the police, the heroes, your family... all for not taking care of yourself for wanting to live a little, for being too selfish.

Not even pretty, those words loaded with a very strong poison, that many girls said to you or whispered to each other in their groups of friends, or the boys who blatantly mentioned it after you rejected them, or all the people who looked at your images in the gossip programs or magazines, when the worst photos they took of you were uploaded to gain more audience, because it turned out that you were their great gem, it was a great gossip, you became out of nowhere, the public's favorite, to get the best gossip.

That was your life, although you couldn't change it... there was a small opportunity to improve it a little. Cross saving yourself off your list, give yourself something better.

First, giving all your supposed fans a good image, being perfect in their eyes, someone with great beauty and without imperfection, a star, someone to adore.

Something that at first was only to avoid more bad photos of you and news, became an addiction, how could it not be, if when you were careless for a moment they took the opportunity to humiliate you and make you look like a horrible being again, you didn't want to be that horrible being. , not again, so beauty treatments, excessive care of your body, clothes that highlighted you better, a great activity with your followers, if they wanted that from you you would give it to them, that was the easiest.

That didn't stop you from feeling bad on the days when you were with your great confidant, Alfred.

When you saw yourself in some reflection, at times you didn't recognize yourself, who were you? What did you become? Maybe the man who always had time for you got disappointed.

But seeing your reflection, that arrogant smile, the other person who was reflected told you that it was the right thing to do, they could no longer destroy you if they thought they had everything of you, without them realizing it you would end up on a great altar, you would be far superior to everyone, Maybe then they would never kidnap you with many followers who would give their lives for you, would they defend you because you didn't want that? When your other self shook her head to the side and feigned empathy for you, her words that you should stop worrying about people who would never do the same for you.

“After all, maybe that man you appreciated a lot did something for you every time they buried your name in the mud... nope, he never did, maybe he was just pretending that he cared about you, he loved your father and your father much more your half-brothers, you were the last task on their list, you just don't want to accept it, like the stupid girl you were."

Her big arrogant smile was the last thing you saw of her.

You should never have gone out, a big party with a lot of people, the idea of ​​showing off with all of them, showing a little superiority, having the media pleased and therefore the people, making her, your reflection, pleased, that she was happy and will no longer torment you.

Speaking of her, she was watching you, you saw her in a glass, her icy gaze, oh... she's so disappointed, you heard her words clearly.

“Oh, what a coward you are, you're seriously crying, what a crybaby baby you are, making yourself look ridiculous in front of all these self-centered people, a couple of photos like that and you'll please all the people who want to see you in a bad way.”

“pathetic, very pathetic, maybe that's why you are never someone your family appreciates, remember their faces the few times you spend with your family, they pretend to be fine, but in reality they only put up with you... just because they can't get rid of you”

His cruel taunts were very painful, like thorns, he knew very well how to attack you.

You closed your eyes, squeezing them as tight as you could and covered your ears, you didn't want to hear her anymore. In a few minutes you were white, far from everything. Batman and Superman along with their companions appeared to control such a commotion, although it would be easy to control the criminals there were many hostages in danger.

An extremely complex job, it was even more so when Bruce and his children saw who one of the hostages was, you.

Determined to save you, they entered one of the last rooms, only to find everyone alarmed, some alarmed and others watching somewhat shocked.

A large pool of blood and a man on the floor, one of the participants in the crime, and near the man, a woman, difficult to recognize due to the blood on her face, who brutally attacked the dead man on the floor. Her thin heels crushing the man's skin, again and again.

I wish, Bruce, I had never been able to recognize that person, that deranged young woman, who madly attacked a person with a smile. Where his little smiling daughter had gone, who always visited him or tried to spend more time with him or her brothers.

Normally I like to make a prologue and depending on the reactions continue the story. In addition to developing the yandere little by little, I simply felt that this story needs a little more things before starting with the yandere

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Enemies (Part Four) (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Takes place during episode 9

Word Count: 1,820

Warning: Smut

Part One Part Two Part Three

The arms around her kept her safe. Nobody and no thought could hurt her when she was in these arms. A savior or even an angel that was sent to protect her from harm's way. The arms that were keeping her safe through the night belong to Rafe Cameron. 

Her eyes opened and she groaned as her body ached of sweet release and pain. She sighed and snuggled back into the arms of Rafe. “Rafe.” She tried to say but her voice was scratchy thanks to him. He chuckled and kissed the back of her head.

She turned in his arms and faced him with a glare. “Pretty awesome way to lose your voice.” He states with a cocky smirk. “Screaming my name as I fuck you over and over again.” He teased knowing her body wasn’t up for it. “You’re a dick.” She managed out but there was a playfulness to her tone. She leaned over and kissed him with a smile on her face. 

The Pogues hadn’t heard from her in a few days. They didn’t even see her run and they didn’t even know that she was with Rafe. But as much as they loved her they were glad she was not there with them. Running from the cops.

JJ was okay but both him and Pope were in big trouble. Sarah wanted to tell her the big secret but hoped that she was okay. Y/N had no idea that her friends were in danger while she fucked the enemy. 

Hollis was dead and Rafe was pacing around the living room. Y/N on the couch watching him. “It wasn’t JJ.” Rafe said like he for sure knew. “It was Groff and he took my money.” Y/N knew that it wasn’t JJ but the Groff thing kind of surprised her.

Rafe told her everything about Hollis and Groff. “Okay so we should go tell the police.” She told him. “Yeah but first let’s take a walk.” He says and she smiles. 

“I can’t believe JJ did that.” Y/N whispered. Rafe grabbed her hand and she didn’t pull away. She stared at the ground as they walked when Rafe noticed the cops. “Quick over here.” She gasped as she saw her friends trying to steal a boat. “Rafe.” She whispered. They ducked down and could hear them talk. “They know where Groff is.” She whispered. “Don’t make it known you're here.” He warns her as the cops try to arrest them. She smiled as she saw them take their boat. Her friends were dumbasses but she loved them. 

“So you’ll take us to look for the treasure?” She asked with hope in her eyes. “I want my money but if that’s what it takes then yes.” He plays with the ring he has in his pocket that was his moms. He knew it was too soon so he was gonna take it with them just in case. “I’ll get the cops off their back and I’ll take you guys to wherever Groff is at.” He promises. She kisses him as a thank you and puts her hope and faith into him. He pulls away from the kiss, “Do you know where they are hiding?” 

Shoupe arrives before Rafe and Y/N do and he’s about to take away JJ and Pope. They had no other end and no saving or plan at this point. Sarah gasps as she sees Y/N and her brother? “Y/N?” She asks in shock and everyone turns to see her and Rafe.

  Her nerves about what they would think did not hit until they noticed her. She knew of Rafe’s plan but they did not. “I can take them to get Groff.” Everyone besides Y/N was shocked at his words. He had convinced Shoupe to let them go and find Groff. After Shoupe had left the others turned to Y/N, “So that’s where you were?” Kie asked.

Y/N’s face was red, this wasn’t how she wanted them to find out. “Look I was keeping her safe while you guys were out being criminals.” He put an arm around Y/N who didn’t push him away. “Look we can talk about this later we got a crown to find.” John B said. 

The boat was huge and nothing like she’s ever stayed on. All of the Pogues were happy that this was happening but felt uneasy around Rafe. “I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t trust him. We don’t trust him.” JJ said. “He got us this boat and is taking us to find the treasure. He doesn’t want it, He wants the money Groff took from him.” She exclaims. Rafe could hear them and he smiled at her words.

“Y/N do you actually believe that?” John B asked her. Sure Rafe wasn’t such a good person but after everything with JJ and Groff it wasn’t unbelievable that he would do something like that. “Yes. Groff is shitty.” “That doesn’t mean that Rafe isn’t lying.” She sighs. “Then go talk to him.” She told the group. “Except you.” She said to JJ who looked at her in disbelief. “I agree with her on that one.” Kie said. Everyone besides JJ goes to Rafe who was stirring the boat.

“Rafe.” Y/N said his name and he turned to find everyone with her. She walked up to him and let John B talk. Peace was never an option with JJ who knocked Rafe out. “JJ!” Y/N yelled at him. She got on the ground to check on him. “I would have done it if he didn’t.” Pope said, causing Y/N to glare. “I’m sorry Y/N but we don’t trust your boyfriend.” “He doesn’t want the crown! He wants the money that Groff took from him!” She yelled at her friends. “Why don’t you believe me?” “It’s not you, we don’t believe it’s him.” 

Rafe woke up and was tied up. Sarah decided to bring him the food. “They don’t trust you, Rafe. Only Y/N does.” “I want to see her.” He tells her. “She won’t untie you.” Though Y/N really wanted to. “Let me see her.” He said, ignoring her. Sarah sighs and gets Y/N.

Y/N walks in the room and sits by him. “I want to let you go but they would kill me or you might kill them.” He chuckled at her words. “I told you I wanted to be a better person. You’re making that easy but they are making that hard.” She lays her head on his shoulder and sighs, “I wish that they could see that you’re telling the truth.”

Though she knew that they had no right too. He did awful things to them so why would they? Sarah had said that to him and it stuck in his mind. Y/N stayed down there with him until she was hungry, she told him that she would be back later and before he could protest, she was gone. 

“Why him?” Kie asked as she and Sarah ate with Y/N. “There is so much I never told you guys.” She told them everything. How Rafe approached her at a party and would never leave her alone. How he would constantly follow her even when she tried to push him away. How he asked her to be with him multiple times. How he was there for her.

“Wow.” Kie said and Sarah gave her a little smile. “Depending on how this goes. I might give you my blessing.” They all laugh. “So wait, are you guys together?” Kie asked. Truth be told they never put a label on it but it seemed as if they were. “Well yeah. I would take what’s going on between us like that.” She shrugged. 

“So I was thinking that since you’re tied up and you can’t do anything I will do this.” He gasps as she unzips his pants. “You’re being serious right now?” He asked. She didn’t respond and pulled out his dick, which was very hard. She looks up at him, “You’re asking me that? I’m not the one who’s hard as a rock.” She teases and runs her thumb over the tip.

He sucks in a deep breath as her hand moves up and down his dick. She watches him as he bites his lip to keep from moaning. The others did not need to know what was going on. Her hand moves faster and he lets out a little whimper, “shit.” She smirks and lowers her head until his tip was near her mouth.

Her hand slowing down. He thrusts his hips up and she sits up again, “Rafe you aren’t in any position to call the shots.” She teases and he huffs. “Come on Y/N.” He begs. Her hand stops moving and Rafe almost whines. “I have THE Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron whining for me to suck his cock.” She says and lays down so that she is on her stomach. Her hands placed on his thighs as licks up his dick. He sighs in pleasure at the feeling.

She smirks and takes the tip in her mouth. Her tongue ran along it. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as she finally gave him what he wanted. His dick was finally in her mouth as she gave him the craziest blowjob of his life. She hummed on him causing the vibration to shoot straight up his body.

Oh how he wished that he could run his hands through her hair. He was moaning like he was in heat as his high was approaching. “Fuck Y/N. I’m close!” He moaned out. She didn’t stop until he was cumming down her throat. She pulled off of him and swallowed every drop he gave her. She wiped her mouth and sighed. “That was kinky” She said and he laughed.

“That was hot.” He said and she leaned in and kissed him. But before their lips could touch the boat started going crazy. “What the hell?” He said. She went to get up and check but fell down and the red alert went off. “I have to get you free.” She said and tried standing again. She gripped the wall for support and went out the door.

“Kie hand me a knife.” Kie looked for one in the drawers and gave it to her. Y/N got back to Rafe and cut him loose. They made their way out of there and to the others. She heard John B yelling and ran out to where he was, Rafe following her. “Sarah.” Rafe yelled and tears built up in Y/N’s eyes. She saw JJ throw a raft in the water and tell Sarah he was coming. “JJ it’s too dangerous.” Y/N yells at him but he jumps in the water. Y/N watches as the waves cover her friends and she lets out a sob. Rafe pulls her to his chest as she starts screaming and crying all over again. 

[aerospectrum]

Sam took on the responsibility to be the voice of reason, helping Cas up, dusting him off a bit and trying to be gentle with his touch, noticing the bruise marks from Dean’s hand already forming along the back of his neck at the base where his shoulders started. Part of him felt his own anger bloom at the fingerprints left behind, but he couldn’t bring it up yet.

“Guys…” Sam spoke, the exasperated tone heavy and weighed down with everything happening around them. “This is stupid.” He stated bluntly. “Fighting with one another when it’s the angels behind all this, everyone trying to leave or run off. It’s childish, i-it doesn’t make anything better it doesn’t work.” He lifted his hands a bit motioning to the sigils around the rooms. “Cas… you have to tell them what you told Gabe; you were fine with Madison back at the motel; you both even had fun in the pool together. You told me out in the living room… just…. Tell them what you told me…” he looked at Cas and then to Dean and Madison.

“It was an accident I didn’t mean to say it-.” Cas started to defend himself but Sam shrugged into a look and Cas sighed, dropping his face to stare at the floor. “I told him Madison was in love with Michael’s vessel and that…” he trailed off, blue eyes looking to Sam to not make him say it, but Sam was unrelenting. “I said you had cooties and it was a mutation and endangered Dean and I needed help curing you— I didn’t mean to make him mad at you I didn’t mean to…”

Dean’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor before he closed his mouth and pinched the bridge if his nose. For how fucking old angels were- how the heck did they not know what cooties were… and how did Castiel of all of them know what the very human, very childish make-believe disease was? “You’re telling me all of this is over Cooties?”

“I couldn’t get anyone to help me. I can’t claim Madison like I did with you and Sam I needed someone with enough power who could include me in the claim so she’d be safe and Naomi would leave her alone and you could—.” Dean rushed him and Cas half cowered back before being grabbed the elbow. Sam winced at how rough he was with him again; a rougher plea coming from him to let Cas go that Dean ignored, yanking Cas over to Madison like he was going to force them to hug it out. Which he still might. “I was just trying to help keep you safe you said you liked him and he made you safe- I… m sorry.” He didn’t want to look her in the eyes. It felt trivial and painful. “I didn’t know he didn’t know cooties weren’t real. I tried everything at the park, nobody would answer- I didn’t tell him anything else, I just wanted to help.”

Madison stood behind Dean when Garfield began accusing her of being the cause of their problems. She shrank a little at each word & maybe he was right. They had come here for her & now they were all suffering for it.

Gabriel was gone in a blink of an eye, but she knew he was still watching. It was an eerie feeling & she looked around between the Men.

“Do you want me to go w/ you?” She asked. “All this is because of me & because of what we did. I don’t know why they want me, or what I did to piss off cas & all the other angels, but you guys didn’t sight up for this.” She pulled away from Dean heading back to the couch & sitting down. “I think…. If they want to kill me this bad… maybe…. Maybe I’m not supposed to live.”

Her hands fell to her side & she played w/ the cushions of the couch. “I didn’t mean to cause so many problems…” when she spoke she avoided deans eyes, which she knew were staring at her. She could feel him building up ready to respond back.

She felt bad. Truly.

“I’m sorry cas. I’m sorry I did this to you.”

[ephie-om]

Simeon trudges along the soft carpet to answer Purgatory Hall's door. He vaguely remembers someone was supposed to visit, but in his mind's haze he can't seem to recall who. Between the endless explosions from Solomon's room and late nights comforting Luke after a long day, the angel was exhausted.

The front door creaks open to reveal your smiling face. Your smile quickly drops as you take in Simeon's state. He realizes how he must look. Disheveled clothes, oily skin, probably several stains on his robes. He's fairly sure he should be ashamed, but he's too tired. "I apologize, I'm not exactly... put together." He flashes you a quick smile, hoping to dispel your worries.

You tsk at him and gently push past him into the house. An alarm goes off in his mind, a bit too late, that he should be a gracious host and invite you in. But since it's you, he supposes, there's not much point in telling you to make yourself at home. He watches you drop your bag on the floor and shove it out of the way with your foot. You're looking at him, he realizes. Expectantly. "Um... I'm sorry. What?" Your lips twist (in what? Worry? Disappointment? Has he done something wrong?) and you let out a breath.

"I said, I know your roommates have been getting to you." He nods quickly, eager to show he's listening this time. "So I took the liberty of finding them excuses to not be here tonight. They're safe and in good company, but that leaves you here. Alone, with no distractions." You grin at him, almost evilly. "Which means you don't have any excuse to refuse my help."

You make quick work of boiling water for tea and running a bath. Simeon, having been sternly commanded to not help in any way, is perched awkwardly on a stool in the kitchen. He watches you rush back and forth between rooms, making sure neither the kettle and the tub can overflow. It's almost amusing, watching you run about like this all for him. Yes, he thinks, it's amusing, and endearing, but if he thinks too long about that he might really say something he shouldn't.

You push a mug full of hot tea towards him from across the counter and stare him down until he drinks. It's warm, the warmest, sweetest thing he's tasted for weeks. He didn't even think he liked this blend. There must be something about your fingers making it that dripped pure nectar into it. He sips slowly, letting his tongue wrap around every drop. He wouldn't dare waste a bit of the liquid gold you'd given him. The silence stretches over the kitchen like a warm blanket and he closes his eyes as he drinks. Your footsteps fade as you go to check the bathroom and he finds himself missing the sound of your breathing.

He drains his mug and heaves himself to his feet. You meet him midway to the bathroom and place a warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hall. Only his angel sensibilities stop him from stripping down as soon as he sees the tub. He sees a thick layer of tiny bubbles floating over the water's surface, and a gentle floral scent rises up to greet him. He swears he could kiss you here and now.

You face him, hand on his arm, and he finds every detail of your lips as you speak. "I don't mean for this to be awkward or anything, but I've been tired like this before and I know how hard simple things can be. So I wanted to tell you if you need any help with this, I'll be right here." You turn to walk out, but he catches hold of your hand.

"Please. It's..." He trails off, embarrassed. "My hair. I don't even know how long it's been since I've washed it." You nod and respectfully face the wall as he disrobes. The noise that leaves his mouth as he lowers himself into the water would be sinful anywhere else. He feels the tension is his back loosen as the warm ripples lap against his skin. When did he get so tired? When had moving a single muscle become such a chore?

You settle on the edge of the tub and gently tilt his head back. He hears you rummage around for his shampoo and finally smells that familiar teakwood scent that drifts down from your fingers. You work his hair into a lather, so slowly he thinks you must be trying to put him to sleep. He doesn't even want to look at what color the bubbles must be coming off his hair, so he shuts his eyes and leans back into your hands. You chuckle softly and rinse his head ever so carefully, making sure to shield his eyes. He hears a generous amount of condition plop into your palm and you indulge him in what's practically a scalp massage, going over his head with your fingertips again and again.

You gasp softly and your fingers stop. Simeon's eyes snap open in fear, imagining what horrors you could've found in his hair. "I'm so sorry, I knew it was dirty, I shouldn't have-"

"You're glowing."

"Sorry?"

"Simeon, you're glowing."

His arm sloshes up from the depths of the tub as he checks for himself, and sure enough, an ochre glow emanates from under his skin. "Ah. That must be a quirk specific to angels. It's entirely subconscious, because it only happens in times of utmost happiness." You smile wide, fascinated as he explains.

"So that means..." You trail off expectantly.

He blushes and settles back under the water, an excuse to tear himself away from that blinding smile. "It means you make me happy." he says simply. You're silent for a moment as you work and he wonders if that was too much. Your fingers caress the hinge of his jaw and tilt his head back again, and he opens his eyes just in time to be met with your lips pressed to his forehead. It only lasts for a brief moment, but he thinks he could live like this for eternity.

Neither of you say anything as Simeon finally stands and dries off. Neither of you need to. Your hand wraps around his arm and he finds himself not caring the least but about where you're taking him. The two of you end up on the living room couch as you painstakingly detangle his hair while a late-night reality show plays softly in the background. The manners that the Celestial Realm has taught him over centuries remind him he ought to say thank you. He takes a breath, opens his mouth and shuts it again, silently. The silence is comfortable. In a world where everyone talks and no one ever listens, silence is trust. And right now he trusts you more than anything else in the three realms.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“I have many names”: Halbrand, the Repentant Mairon in “Rings of Power”

The themes of redemption, second chances and forgiveness are major in Tolkien legendarium. This is due to Tolkien’s Catholic faith, and the belief that no one is irredeemable in the eyes of God, no matter how low they might have fallen.

And we see “Rings of Power” exploring these themes with Sauron’s character in Season 1. Or better yet, with Halbrand, which is the name the show chose for “Repentant Mairon” (Sauron’s original name) of Tolkien lore.

Nothing is Evil in the Beginning

This is the first quote in “Rings of Power”, narrated by Galadriel. This is a reference to Elrond’s quote in “Fellowship of the Ring” book: “For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so.”

In the beginning of time, in the Days before Days, Mairon (the admirable) was created by Eru (God) as a Maia of Aulë, and he was one of the most powerful Maiar (demigods or angels). He was a Maia of smithing, perfection, order and beauty, with qualities like goodness, purity of heart and loyalty, and a dislike for wastefulness. He helped shape Eä (the material universe) alongside the Valar and the other Maiar, during the Ainulindalë (the music of the Ainur), and these qualities (smithing, perfection, order and beauty) were, most likely, his contributions.

Due to his power, he was targeted by the Dark Lord Melkor/Morgoth (the most powerful of the Valar), who seduced him, with promises of greater power. Morgoth is the Satan of Tolkien lore; he was envious of Eru’s capacity of creation, and wanted it for himself. Unable to have it, he devoted himself to corrupt it (which included the corruption of several Maiar), and destroy it.

Becoming Sauron

Mairon, being an idealist, betrayed the Valar and joined Melkor, seeing in him the opportunity to make his ideas a reality. He went on to become Morgoth’s most devoted servant and chief lieutenant, in charge of Angband fortress, in Middle-earth, during the First Age.

Mairon was corrupted by Morgoth, and reshaped into darkness, and all of his qualities reversed: his love became obsession; of order and perfection into dominion and tyranny; beauty into ugliness and monstrosity (by the breeding of the Orcs), goodness into evil, and his loyalty and purity of heart into treachery and deception, becoming the “great deceiver”. The Elves created the name “Sauron” (the abhorrent), as a mockery of his own.

Eventually, Mairon started to resent Melkor, because their goals turned out to be opposite: while Melkor is chaos and destruction, Mairon is order and perfection. Melkor is brute force, Mairon is the brain. What Melkor wanted to destroy, Mairon wished to perfect. Melkor is chaotic evil, while Mairon is lawful evil.

Mairon’s whereabouts are unknown during several periods of time, especially after his defeat at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, the Hound of Valinor (so it’s uncertain if he was hiding from Morgoth, or if Morgoth locked him up somewhere).

Season 2 of “Rings of Power” has already began shedding some light on this, in 2x07:

Sauron: Be not afraid. This too shall pass. I promise you, when Middle-earth is healed, and its people see what you and I did here… all our sufferings will be worth it. Celebrimbor: “Our sufferings”?

Do you know what it is to be tortured at the hands of a god?

Sauron mentioning Morgoth next and how he treated him, seems to indicate that’s what he meant by “all our sufferings will be worth it”. And this idea goes on in this dialogue:

Sauron: Sometimes, the pain almost became a reward. Became a game. A contest, to see whose will was the mightier. Celebrimbor: And after all that, you would still choose to inflict the same pain upon me? Sauron: No. You chose it. Not I. Celebrimbor: What?

I already analyzed this scene from Tolkien theological views of this dynamic, but we can also talk about the wild amount of projection Sauron is doing here. Because the core theme of this scene is Morgoth’s treatment of Sauron, and how he’s replicating that with Celebrimbor. Which might indicate these were things Sauron himself heard from Morgoth in the past: the pain is a reward; you chose it; you [are] the true author of your own torment.

And Celebrimbor saw through this, which explains his reply to Sauron’s nonsense:

And his advise to Galadriel, in the same episode:

We also see Sauron crying while hearing Adar’s tale, in 2x01: “I was in your place once. In the eldest of the Elder Days. Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth. I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left.”

There are many interpretations on why Sauron cries, but I think it’s because he’s recalling his own experience of being “blessed by Morgoth’s hand”, which might have been somewhat similar, but far worse, because Mairon is truly immortal, meaning he can be subjected to every sort of torture imaginable, without truly dying, because he can always re-embody.

And even before any explicit mention of torture, this was already clear when we saw Sauron being resistant to extreme physical pain, hinting it’s something he’s very familiar with: not only he was tortured by Morgoth, but his previous physical form got stabbed into oblivion by the Orcs, without him making a sound.

@love-and-doom asked me why didn’t the Valar or other Maiar intervene when Mairon was being corrupted/tortured by Morgoth? Or why didn’t Aulë tried to get Mairon back? Sauron himself answered to that: because he “chose it”, and he’s the true author of [his] own torment.

Free will is another major theme in Tolkien lore. And neither the Valar, and less alone any Maia, could do anything without Eru’s permission. And the moment a character sides with evil in Tolkien lore, it’s stuck with the consequences. And this goes for Marion, Adar and Celebrimbor. Because all of these characters are both victims and accomplices of Morgoth (the original source of evil), directly (Mairon and Adar), or indirectly (Celebrimbor).

Which also explains why Sauron hates and resents the Gods so much; he probably feels they have forsaken him, like they did with Middle-earth after the War of Wrath, hence him stepping in to rebuild and heal it (because no other Vala would); symbolizing his own desire of healing himself from Morgoth’s corruption.

Sauron in Truth Repented

In 2x01, we saw Sauron getting taught some humility by Adar and the Orcs unionizing against him, when he gets his physical form destroyed, by the means of Morgoth’s crown. Afterwards, Sauron is trapped in a cave for centuries, until he’s able to get out.

He, eventually, re-embodies and is able to recover his physical “fair form”, after centuries as a slimy dark substance.

When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven... That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin. Sauron tells Galadriel, 1x08

Soon, we see him brought low, depressed and unsure on what path to take; having a identity crisis. Some centuries trapped in a cave being goo will do that, even to a demigod (Maia).

We see him lingering on Middle-earth, and by the visual clues (wardrobe and sword) it can indicate that he might have dwelled among humans for a unknown period of time, and even found himself work as smith (sword).

The passage of time is not only hinted by his clothes, but when we, the audience, last saw him he was at Forodwaith (Northern Waste), and when he meets Diarmid, he’s in the Southlands; which means, he traveled all the way from the north to the southeast of Middle-earth.

The Trials of Mairon: Diarmid

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgment of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-Earth. The Silmarillion

There is a theory that Diarmid might have been Eönwë in disguise, sent by Manwë, and his mission was to test Mairon and bring him home to Aman. I subscribe to this theory, because not only it’s aligned with what Tolkien wrote, but because Amazon has limited rights to “The Silmarillion”, and needs to adapt and work around it.

And there’s some clues towards this in the dialogue itself:

That way lies death, friend. […] I know you’ve suffered. I can see it in your eyes. There’s another life waiting for you. You just have to turn toward it. […] A sure path may crumble, but there’s always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there’s places across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life. Come with us, if you like. Or, walk on. And keep chasing death. Choice is yours, friend.

Diarmid also wears the pouch of the King of the Southlands, which might be another clue; “A symbol of kings, long-dead […] My family served them.”

This is also connected with what Mairon tells Galadriel in 1x03: Be careful, Elf. The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility. For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. I am not the hero you seek. For it was my family that lost the war.

In "Rings of Power"; this pouch is symbolical of Mairon's blowing up his redemption, and falling back into evil.

The connection between the Southlanders and Morgoth was also a major theme throughout Season 1. This was, after all, the reason why the Elves kept watch over them for centuries: It has changed much, Watch warden. But the Men who live here have not. The blood of those who stood with Morgoth still darkens their veins. (Revion to Arondir; 1x01).

You were right to watch us. Because we are destined for the darkness. It's how we survive. Perhaps it's who we are. Who we will always be. Bronwyn to Arondir, 1x05

What we see here is that Southlanders were kept watch by the Elves to make sure they were fulfilling their penitence for siding with Morgoth, and obtaining their pardon from the Valar.

Hence Diarmid/Eönwë wearing the pouch of the King of the Southlands, as a test for Mairon: will you choose good and redemption (save Diarmid)? Or will you choose evil and Morgoth (the pouch)?

Diarmid: Nightmares again? What haunts you so? Mairon: I've done evil. Diarmid: All of us have done things that we care not to admit. Mairon: Not like I have. Diarmid: Find forgiveness. You are alive because you have chosen good. Mairon: But what of tomorrow? Diarmid: You have to choose it again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes a part of your nature.

And this makes even more sense with the sea serpent destroying the ship Diarmid and Mairon were traveling on, in the Sundering Seas, near Valinor. A sea creature, most likely, sent by Ulmo, the Vala of the sea. Or even Ossë, the Maia of Inner Seas, himself.

We have the Gods uniting to test Mairon and killing a bunch of humans in the process. Why I’m telling you this? Because the “Rings of Power” fandom has not yet grasped the concept of “being a God” and how Gods are d*cks, overall, who don’t care about individual lives, they look at the full picture and see reality in 5D. Like Sauron himself. And if they need to kill a bunch of people to accomplish their goals, they will. Even Eru sinks an entire island to punish its people, and He’s the ultimate good (and authority) in Tolkien lore.

And Mairon failed the test, because he chose Morgoth (the pouch), and left Diarmid to die.

The Trials of Mairon: Galadriel and Númenor

Sauron was of course not 'evil' in origin. He was a 'spirit' corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth. He was given an opportunity of repentance, when Morgoth was overcome, but could not face the humiliation of recantation, and suing for pardon; and so his temporary turn to good and 'benevolence' ended in a greater relapse. Tolkien Letter 153

Having failed one test, the Valar didn’t give up on Mairon, for they send him another: Galadriel. Who also turned her back on Heaven, by choosing to remain in Middle-earth due to her pride, and desire of hunting down Sauron. And, so, this time, they were both getting tested by the Gods. And even Mairon sees through her, in 1x02: At last, a little honesty. If you want to murder Orcs and settle a score, that's your affair. Don't dress it up as heroism.

When Mairon arrives at Númenor, he sees it as “the place across the sea” Diarmid told him about. Where he can find another path, another life. A island gifted by the Valar themselves to Men, and where they are ever watchful. And so, he believes this is where he can prove his good faith to the Valar and sought their forgiveness for his past sins and crimes under Morgoth.

However, Mairon recognizes that Galadriel can be a liability on his plan of staying at Númenor, not only due to her antagonistic atitude towards the Númenóreans, but also the bad blood between them and the Elves. And that explains his advises to her, in 1x03: “I suggest we set history aside for the moment and show some restraint. Let's try not to antagonize these people.”

When things turn sour in their meeting with Tar-Míriel, we see him employing his charming ways, and acting the diplomat: “It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications. Perhaps it'd be better if we stayed... […] Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request. A few days, perhaps?”

Of course, Mairon’s intention is not to stay in Númenor for just a “few days”. He wants to stay there in servitude, and prove his good will to the Valar: “I have been searching for my peace for longer than you know. Please, for both our sakes, let me keep it.”

to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his [Sauron] good faith; The Silmarillion

When the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall, according to Queen-regent Míriel, the Faithful see in them the tears of the Valar, “a living reminder that their eyes and judgment are ever upon us.”

Which explains Mairon's next actions: after the meeting, he goes straight to Númenor forge, to find himself work there:

There is not another man on this isle that knows this craft better than I. I will shovel coal if needs be, I’ll splinter wood, I’ll shape a sea anchor for you, free of charge, sturdier than anything you have ever seen. How’s that? I’m here to start anew. Lend me that chance. Please. And I won’t forget it. Halbrand/Mairon asks for work at Númenor forge, 1x03

Mairon is told he needs a guild crest in order to be a smith in Númenor, and he’ll do just about anything to get it. And this is when his bounds to Morgoth and his old ways come to the surface: not only does he steal the crest from one of the smiths (and gets into a bloody street fight), but he also tells Ar-Pharazôn of Galadriel’s plans. And this was confirmed by Galadriel herself in 1x05: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest.

And we see Mairon working at the forge, and he’s happy. It’s not random that the times we see Mairon truly happy in Season 1 is when he’s smithing; both in Númenor, and at Eregion, alongside Celebrimbor. This was what he was created to do and to be, by Eru himself. This is his purpose, and what’s he’s meant to be doing. Not getting high on power trips (Morgoth).

And this is a great contrast with Season 2: as Mairon goes deeper into evil, he embraces the sorcerer and neglects the smith. We barely saw him doing any actual smithing in Eregion, in Season 2, while in Season 1, he was involved in the entire process.

And, as Galadriel leaves, the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall. The Valar “cry”: my theory it’s in approval of Mairon’s decision of staying in Númenor, in servitude. He has proven his good will (“in truth repented”) and needs to stay on his current path (redemption is a process). But Míriel looks at it, all wrong (like her father will warn her about), and thinks it’s a warning to follow Galadriel, when it’s actually the other way around.

And 1x05, we see Galadriel acting behind his back and involving Míriel, Queen regent of Númenor, in her plans of getting herself an army to fight “Sauron” in the Southlands (the army she claims Sauron promised her, in 2x06).

And Mairon is vexed. He doesn’t want any part in this; he wants his redemption. And this is very clear in this scene:

Míriel: My thanks, Lord Halbrand. I'm certain your fellowship will prove just as invaluable once we make landfall. Mairon: "Landfall?" Míriel: Galadriel informed us of your aspiration to unite your people. Mairon: Did she now? Galadriel: I trust she was not speaking in haste? Mairon: As a matter of fact, it was my intention... [to stay in Númenor] Galadriel: My companion is merely feeling the weight of his task. I have no doubt, come time, he will do his part. Míriel: Given that I've staked my name upon it, I should hope so. Edda: Queen Regent, your father has requested your presence in the tower. Mairon: "Galadriel informed us." Galadriel: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest. Mairon: You used me. After I all but begged you to let me be. Galadriel: I have just convinced Númenor to send five ships and 500 men to aid your people and place a crown upon your head. Many might assume you used me. Mairon: Find another head to crown.

This is Mairon symbolically rejecting Morgoth. And this is the “good” he should have chosen. This is him passing the test, and a step closer to his redemption.

But Morgoth/Galadriel won’t give up, and she goes to the forge to persuade him into taking up the role of King of the Southlands.

I already talked about this on several posts; in Season 1, we see Galadriel being the “Morgoth” to Mairon’s “Sauron” on several occasions, by tempting him with promises of power. And this Númenor forge scene is a direct parallel with Morgoth tempting Mairon with promises of power in Aulë forge.

This idea is also present in Míriel's scene with her father, the king of Númenor, on the same episode, when Tar-Palantir warns her against going to Middle-earth and follow Galadriel:

Tar-Palantir: The kingdom! The kingdom is in danger. I must... Míriel: The danger has passed, Father. We are doing now what you always believed we must. We're restoring our connection with the Elves. I'm going to Middle-earth. Tar-Palantir: Míriel? Míriel: Yes, Father. It's me. Tar-Palantir: Don't go to Middle-earth. All that awaits you there is... Míriel: What, Father? What awaits me? Tar-Palantir: Darkness.

And this is true to both Míriel and Mairon, because darkness is what awaits for them there, should they follow Galadriel. Because, just like Adar tells her, in 1x06: It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror.

And we see this dynamic with Galadriel and Mairon in the forge scene, where the pouch (Morgoth) is used as a plot device; while Galadriel wants him to take it, Mairon rejects it.

Galadriel: I was wrong to use you. For that, I'm sorry. Tomorrow, the queen will call you to audience. Your voice at that meeting may well decide whether this mission stands or falls. Help me. Mairon: I think I've helped you quite enough. Galadriel: Then help yourself. Stop fighting me, and together, let us fight them.

And this is when Galadriel tells him about her brother's death (although Mairon was already aware of this). But that's not what makes him reconsider, and essentially ruin his redemption. It’s when Galadriel says this:

The company I led mutinied against me. My closest friend conspired with the king to exile me. And each of them acted as they did… Because I believe they could no longer distinguish me… from the evil I was fighting.

And this is personal to Mairon. Because of what happened with Adar and Orcs; not only they mutinied against him, but they could no longer distinguish him from Morgoth.

And this is related with what Adar himself tells Galadriel in 1x06: After Morgoth's defeat, the one you call Sauron… Devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh… But over flesh. A power of the Unseen World. He bid as many as he could to follow him far north. But try as he might… Something was missing […] For my part… I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.

Your sorrow cannot ease my pain. And nor will a hammer and tongs ease yours. There is no peace to be found for you here. And nor for me. No lasting peace in any path, but that which lies across the sea. I have fought for centuries, seeking to earn mine. This is how you earn yours.

Find Forgiveness

And this is when everything collapses, and changes for Mairon. He now believes his redemption is connected to Galadriel and her forgiveness. But he’s deeply mistaken, because by following Galadriel and going to Middle-earth, all that awaits him there is darkness, like Tar-Palantir prophesied.

And that’s why Galadriel is connected to the Fall of Númenor visions: she's the “Morgoth” who brings "Sauron" back, like Gil-galad foresaw, in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

By following Galadriel, Mairon chooses deception over redemption. And it’s like Elrond says to Galadriel in 2x02: “It was entirely of your choosing. Sauron looked inside you, plucked the very song of your soul, note by note, making himself out to be exactly what you needed. "The Lost King" who could ride you to victory.”

And this is exactly what Mairon does, hoping to earn Galadriel’s forgiveness, and redeem himself. And he makes his choice. And he chooses wrong. He fails the test; and he chooses Morgoth (the pouch), all over again.

And in 1x06, we see Mairon helping people, and guiding them to safety. And he thinks it’s because of Galadriel’s influence on him, and not of his own doing. Because he’s a Maia, he was created as a servant, and he needs to serve someone, otherwise he’s lost.

Galadriel: Whatever it was he did to you, and whatever it was you did... Be free of it. Mairon: I never believed I could be... Until today. Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...

And when Galadriel tells him “I’ve felt it too”; it’s the confirmation and validation Mairon needed. He thinks she’ll be willing to bind herself to him, and keep him in the light, and he'll achieve the redemption he so desperately wants.

But Galadriel’s light is merely aesthetic; it’s the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, who shines on every Elf who was born during the Years of the Trees. But in her case it’s more perceptible, because of her legendary golden, shot with silver, hair. And it’s her beauty that blinds Mairon; the Maia who loves beautiful things.

Forgiveness takes an Age

Forgiveness doesn't come to folk like me. Sooner or later, they'll cast me out, you know they will. Estrid to Isildur, 2x03

In Tolkien legendarium “forgiveness” is not just “earned”, it’s given, as well. And we see this with Frodo and Gollum in “Lord of the Rings”: it’s Frodo’s mercy and pity that ultimately allow Gollum to “redeem” himself, because he's the one who destroys the Ring, by falling down the volcano with it. Frodo, in “Fellowship of the Ring” believed Gollum deserved death and that Bilbo should have killed him when he got the chance, but Gandalf shares some wisdom with him on that topic. However, after he meets Gollum, he pities him and takes mercy on him.

And when Galadriel rejects his offer, Mairon sees it as a rejection of her forgiveness. She tells him: No penance could ever erase the evil you have done; and he sees this as confirmation of his worse fears, on a subconscious level (because he’ll try to redeem himself through the “rings of power” masterplan, still); he’s not worthy of redemption, and others will always cast him out. This is the turning point for him.

Because this is also a theme morally gray or villainous characters face in Tolkien lore (especially in The Silmarillion): they are always seen as irredeemable by others, and must die. But these characters are wrong, due to Tolkien’s ideas of redemption, rooted in Catholic faith (and this is what is called “unreliable narrators”, because “The Silmarillion” is written by the Eldar POV, and is a collection of facts, myths and gossip, essentially).

In Tolkien lore, “redemption” is a process, and a nuanced and complex idea. It’s broader than just one villain turning good overnight, because in the legendarium this process is not instantaneous. It’s pretty much like Diarmid tells Mairon in 2x01: it’s a process where the character has to progress towards good by conscious choice and free will: “you have to chose it again, until it becomes part of your nature”.

But Mairon never chooses this. And in Season 1 of “Rings of Power”, it’s exactly what Tolkien wrote: he in truth repents, temporarily turns to good and benevolence, but doesn’t see his redemption through as a result of his own choices. And the “pride” Tolkien talks about is personified in Galadriel, and him choosing to follow her, instead of staying in Númenor in servitude. But he means well throughout Season 1 and Season 2, too; when he embraces the next plot of his character arc, “Annatar the reformer”.

And this is Halbrand. And he was very much real, and not one of “Sauron’s illusions” or deceptions. He was Mairon seeking redemption and pardon from the Valar due to his crimes under Morgoth.

I'm planning on doing meta on "Annatar the Reformer" of Tolkien lore, too. But I got a feeling "he" is not over in "Rings of Power", just yet. I think that plot will continue in Season 3.

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile PT 2

Continuation of this.

@wolf-feathers12 you owe me fifty cookies and I’m gluten free

Imagine:

Titus is not quite new anymore to the watch. He’s slowly opening up to his squad mates but still is apprehensive. The mission has been a success and his squad wants to celebrate. They worked well together. But Titus does not wish to participate. He is bitter and mournful. News that the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, had returned came through a few days ago. He was overjoyed at hearing that. But he doesn’t get to celebrate. Not when he’s dishonored his chapter. Not when he’s a black shield. Not when he can’t celebrate with his brothers. Before he can go to the training cages, a squad mate pulls him back, not taking no for an answer. He may have not told them his chapter and was using another name but they can tell how hard the last few days have been. Rather than celebrating they all huddle together, one with another. They miss each of their chapters and brothers. But they can find comfort in one another. It’s a moment of reprieve for the ex-captain’s broken heart.

As an Emperors’ children you are far more prone to cuddling than one might think. You were always underestimated. Many scoffed at your legion and chalked you up to pompous and egotistical men. Some of that was true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Even more hurtful was the rejection of your Primarch. He didn’t want you or your brothers. He would not lead. You all were so desperate that some followed his clone when he showed up. You’re all scattered and trying what you can to make Fulgrim proud and have him return. Sometimes the rejection hurts so much you’ll curl up together in a pile. Pretending the weight is your Primarch, welcoming you back and saying that you’ve done well. That you’re worthy of his love. Those who are a part of war bands tend to be flock to bigger Astartes. Craving large and warm arms to wrap around you and say it’s okay. You’re not useless or worthless. You’re not an object or disposable.

Little known fact about Iron Warriors. You will cuddle anyone but your own legion. You’re so touch starved and refuse to ask for it due to how the chapter is. Cuddling your brothers? Revolting. Your Primarch won’t do it. Cold and refusing to show any weakness. But the minute any other traitor Astartes wants to start a pile or even a daemon or cultist request a hug, you’re there. You will not say anything and you’re definitely not saying no. You will just join in. If you see a cuddle pile you won’t ask, you’re suddenly in the middle. Emperor’s Children tend to like Iron Warrior’s for this reason. Might as well write “Free Hugs” on the back of their armor.

Newly joined Blood Angels feeling the psychic wound of their genefathers death. The looming of the red thirst and the chance of falling to the black rage. Their new brothers hold them in a large mass. Safe and warm to let them know that they’re not alone. They all feel the pain. They all mourn their father and fallen brethren. They all share it. So they share their hugs and affection.

Black Templars having massive sermons where the chaplain gets emotional and they all hold one another as they recite prayers. Hold each other up. Being strong like Dorn. Their Primarch isn’t here but they are here for each other.

Night Lords will cram themselves into dark and tight places to hide, entangled in each other’s arms. Their Primarch was mad and didn’t care for them. They have to care for each other. Everything they do is vile and violent. Except for this. Ever so gentle touches, protective embraces, the most tender of running hands through hair, gentle head butting. They are one of the most affectionate legions but only with each other. Silent as they relish in each other’s deep rooted sadness and hatred for themselves and solace of being with one another.

Lorgar finally has a moment of silence as the word bearers are escorted away from Monarchia by the Ultramarines. The emperor’s wrath had been fierce. He ends up dropping to his knees and pulling his closest son into an embrace. The others around him move forward without thinking. He pulls so many into his arms, has them laying their heads on his shoulders and back. Pressing their cheeks and foreheads to his own as he cries prayers he wrote. They were innocent! Loyal to him! He had done this for him! All that work! It was a gift! A tribute! He just burned it away! Killed them all. Rejected it. He’s in so much pain and anger but having his sons close eases it a bit.

Magnus clings to his sons. They don’t react as dust swirls within the armor. Foolish stupid Ahriman. He had managed to save the remaining few and bring them into the warp. Relieved that they all weren’t dead. This seemed worse though. He presses a kiss to the top of one’s helmet, praying that there’s some bit of conscious in there. Those that were unaffected are huddled behind him as his new wings caress them.

He wasn’t very affectionate. Mortarion had grown up shying away from it and he rarely indulged in cuddle piles. But after so many had died from horrid plagues and sicknesses, he had to pledge himself to Nurgle. It didn’t matter though. His sons were saved and himself. He had sat himself on the ground and big then to come forth. Some were nuzzled into his side, a few rested their heads on his torso. He was surrounded by his sons. Safe. He didn’t care what it had taken or what would happen next.

[beef-brisket]

Vox gripped his arm rest as he listened to two overlords talk. One minute, it was about Lucifer, the Adam making fun of Vox and his awesome sex skills, and then it was about random overlord gossip.

Even after everything, Vox still wanted Adam. He was perfect. They could rule Hell together if they combined their power.

He needed to risk his hypnotism. The last time didn't go so well, but hopefully, because Adam's mind is preoccupied with Lucifer, it would work. But be needed to time it just right. It couldn't go wrong.

Vox watched as Adam left Rosie's and started to head back to the hotel. He'll attack soon.

Adam knew Vox was watching, but he didn't mind. It wasn't going to do him any good. Vox was counting his days as soon as whatever retaliation Heaven delivers Vox is as good as dead. As well as the other to members of the Vees.

That would benefit Angel, which will benefit Adam. Perhaps Angel would be interested in making a deal once he's free of Valentino. Adam liked to think he's a lot more fair and kinder than Valentino.

Adam smiled at the idea of destroying that damn tower. Ending Val once and for all would be a plus. Ending Vox will be the cherry on top.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol