#mere fantasies that can never be fulfilled

[shanti-ashant-hai]

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[ohnoitstbskyen]

Could you talk more about sephiroth and clouds dynamic/relationship? Especially about sephiroths feelings towards cloud since I personally haven’t seen many people talk about that aspect.

Well, it sort of depends which version of the Final Fantasy VII story you're talking about, because certainly in the original game, Sephiroth actually doesn't care very much about Cloud at all.

During the events in Nibelheim, Sephiroth has a relationship with Zack as a friendly coworker (arguably an actual friend), but Cloud is just some Shinra goon nobody whose name and face Sephiroth doesn't even know. It's not until Cloud confronts him in the Mako reactor and successfully kills him that Sephiroth even sees his face for the first time. Sephiroth doesn't even know Cloud's name in the last few moments of his life, he just sees this enraged kid suddenly find the strength to overpower him and throw him into the reactor core out of nowhere.

After Cloud kills him, well... I would make the argument that Sephiroth never actually comes back. He dies in the throes of a psychotic break where the Jenova cells inside of him are using his emotional anguish to manipulate him towards her own ends, promising him all the love and family and fulfilment and sense of identity that Shinra violently abused out of him. And when he dies, whatever parts of Sephiroth's mind that were left are fully replaced with Jenova's single-minded superobjective to consume the planet and move on to parasitize again.

And so the version of Sephiroth that haunts Cloud for most of the narrative isn't actually Sephiroth the man. Almost every part of that person is long gone. Just like how Jenova used the psychological hook of Sephiroth's mother to control him, "Sephiroth" is mostly the Jenova cells using the hook of Sephiroth's influence over Cloud to try and control him.

And that's why Sephiroth seems so fixated on Cloud - not because Sephiroth the Person actually cares about him, but because the Jenova cells that are spread out across a thousand organisms are calling for Reunion, and they will use whatever psychological hook or crook that can manipulate their hosts to make it happen. The other Jenova victims presumably saw visions just as vivid and personal, urging them on towards the Northern Crater.

Sephiroth seems obsessed with Cloud because Cloud is obsessed with Sephiroth. Sephiroth is this avatar of his trauma, his self-hate, and his deep internal identity crisis, the representation of his every doubt and insecurity. Hence Sephiroth's gleeful constant accusation that Cloud is merely a puppet, Cloud has no personality, Cloud isn't real - these are Cloud's own fears being verbalized against him by the Jenova cells. And it's deeply ironic because the only puppet here is Sephiroth, being piloted by Jenova like an ant by cordyceps.

Hence the very final battle with Sephiroth which takes place not in the depths of the Northern Crater with the party confronting Safer Sephiroth, but in a black and undifferentiated void-space at the end of a psychedelic mind-trip, that Cloud undertakes alone to confront the ghost of Sephiroth in his mind and banish his influence forever. Like, that final moment really is the most This Is Only Happening In Cloud's Mind-ass final boss confrontation imaginable.

But that's the original Final Fantasy VII. The extended FF7 universe pivots hard off of the popularity of Sephiroth as an Iconic Villain and goes about building out him as the central antagonist of the entire universe, and centering him almost obsessively in the extended narrative of Final Fantasy VII.

Advent Children basically retcons the end of Final Fantasy VII, where it turns out oops Cloud didn't actually fully reject Sephiroth's influence over him, here's some Geostigma to represent the haunting malice of this singular villain and here's a 1-to-1 recreation of the final scene from FF7 where Cloud destroys Sephiroth with Omnislash extended out to a gratuitous anime fight scene that ends with an even more awesome ultra-final ultimate Super Omnislash... but then even THAT isn't enough as Sephiroth promises ominously to "never become a mere memory" and he's going to haunt Cloud forever and ooooh maybe he'll be coming back for another seven sequels or something, because the franchise is never ever ever going to let Cloud move on, heal or get better, not so long as Sephiroth is this popular.

Same deal with Kingdom Hearts, which represents Cloud's character as basically revolving entirely around Sephiroth, and Sephiroth as almost romantically obsessed with Cloud, while games like Crisis Core get into the Star Wars Extended Universe business of attaching portentous mythological weight to originally inconsequential objects like the Buster Sword, and building out a grand conspiracy of gene manipulated One Winged Angel People all chasing the coat-tails of Sephiroth's popularity.

All of this comes together in the Final Fantasy VII Remake games, which try to reconcile the extended post-FF7 narrative with the original Final Fantasy VII story, adopting the idea of Sephiroth as the singular operatic puppet master villain of the story, rather than Shinra or Jenova who were the original game's thematic central villains as representations of parasitic and extractive capitalism.

So in these games, Sephiroth is obsessed with Cloud, and seems to see Cloud as his own best chance of salvation from his fate, and there's deep homoerotic tension between the two as Cloud struggles between wanting to kill Sephiroth, and wanting to be with or become him.

Oh, and to be clear, I do love the extended FF7 universe and all the post-original fluff that gets attached to it, I do love Sephiroth and Cloud as this pair of Doomed By The Narrative romantic lover-enemies fated to Toxic Yaoi each other to death forever, and I'm very fond of my good boy Zack, who deserves all the love the games have shown him. I cackled like an absolute hyena when I realized just how far the Final Fantasy VII Remake was going to go in rewriting the story.

It's just also hard not to see Square's treatment of Final Fantasy VII after it became The Iconic JRPG™ as anything other that corporate self-mythologizing and Star Wars style brand management, obsessively building more a marketable facade around the original game focused on its most popular surface-level features, at the cost of obscuring a lot of the subtler themes and ideas of the original game.

Sephiroth is not the main villain of Final Fantasy VII. Extractive capitalism is, and it is embodied by Shinra in the first half, and Jenova in the second half, and both of those antagonistic forces use Sephiroth as a puppet to do their bidding, and a veil to hide the primitive brutality of their consumption. But nobody would ever think that seeing how Sephiroth has been elevated as King Bad Guy of Villain Mountain in the aftermath.

I'm sorry I think this went kind of off the rails from the question you actually asked lol

[webbluvrsugar]

subby-virgin!ethan x virgin!reader + dry humping, pleaaaseeee

dry humping bestfriend!Ethan Landry

“Yeah, I’ve never really done anything..” he confesses.

You’ve been talking about love for the past minutes while sitting on your bed, childhood crushes, crushes in general, dates and bad relationships, and now you’ve just reached something more sexual — intimate.

He says he’s never done anything before, neither did you, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s a bit surprising, really. Sure, Ethan’s a little shy, but he’s also gorgeous, hot even, sometimes when he’s doing stuff like explaining a topic you didn’t understand in class, — maybe even rambling about his nerdy stuff — you can never tune in to what he’s saying, you’re distracted, staring into his eyes, his hair, the way his hands flex around his pencil, his expressions. And, he opened up to you, he could’ve probably opened up to someone else, but apparently… that never happened, yet.

“What about you?” He asks and you squirm in your seat.

What are you even supposed to tell him? Everything that you’ve ever done in these four walls.. in the bed you’re sitting on, is at least a little vulgar, you’re not sure what Ethan will think about you, but you sigh and answer him anyways.

“Well I —“ you gulp, his eyes meet yours, expectant with a tinge of curiosity. “I’ve never…fucked before but I’ve — I’ve seen stuff.” You admit, you expect him to judge you, but he doesn’t, his brows furrow, he only seems a little more curious, maybe even relaxed.

“You’ve seen?” He asks, squirming a little closer to you.

“Yeah like… like porn.” You admit, he flushes, his hands clench around his pants, he’s not that innocent either, he’s seen porn before too, things to fulfil his darkest fantasies, nasty things done to the girls on there, sometimes even something softer, but it works more as his own relief to his mind, so yeah, he’s seen porn before, but he just wants to know what you watch on there.

“What — What have you seen on there?”

Definitely a lot of things you can tell him, yet, because this conversation is going too well for it to be ruined, so you decide to appeal to something different, this can be your chance to finally get with him, sure you’re inexperienced but… it’s worth the try.

“Uhm…” you exhale. “Can I show you?”

He freezes, swallows again, imagines all the things you might show him now, he’s thought about you like that before. He stays quiet for a bit too long before nodding, letting his hands fall from his pants to the sheets.

You light up with a soft smile, remove the pyjama shorts you’re wearing before approaching him closer in the bed again, looking up to him as your fingers move to his pants, asking him for permission without really saying a word, he just nods again, leans back against the headboard and sighs.

You pull down his pants, his hands flex against the sheets with the mere hint of your touch, all this silence only brings tension to the room, he’s already hard, you can tell, and you’re not really sure what you’re doing, but you’re wet too, so you just keep going.

“Just relax.” You say, straddling him, he’s already blushing red.

“O — Okay..” he whispers, but he’s nervous, maybe even confused when you don’t remove his boxers, but he doesn’t question it.

You move his hands from the sheets to your hips, looking back at him. “Just hold my hips like that.”

You command softly before moving your hips forward on him, your clit hits the tip of his cock through the thin fabric of your clothing, you both moan together, his grip on your hips becomes tighter, he bucks into you unintentionally, you moan again, he smirks lightly.

“Like that?” He asks, muttering.

“Firmer.” Another command.

He complies, rolling your hips firmer into him, you whimper, let your body rest against his, your head against his shoulder.

“Quicker.” You say into his ear, he grunts as he picks up the pace, your panties are wet and sticky and the fabric gives you both the perfect stimulation for it, his eyes look down to you and his fingers clench on your skin, a hidden moan escaping him as he gets the hang of it.

“You like that?” You ask, one hand going up into his hair as you move with him.

“Y — Yes… fuck, you’re wet.” He says it like it’s a surprise, he doesn’t think he could make you this wet, but he did, and he takes pride in it.

His hands work faster, they move down into your ass and squeeze, his head hits the headboard and he groans, bucks his hips up into you intentionally this time.

“Hoooly shit, I think I��m about to cum.”

[quickiesgirl]

Dirty Little Secret - Eddie Munson

Paring: Perv!Eddie Munson x Innocent Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Perv!Eddie, Soft Innocent!Reader, Mirror Sex, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 7 - Sex Toys/Mirror Sex

Your roommate laid across your pink duvet, a stuffed animal tucked behind his arm while he sat back into the neatly placed pillows, repeatedly glancing between you and the book resting between his fingers. Unable to focus his attention on anything other than the gorgeous woman who was getting ready in front of him.

As you walked past, eyes glancing into the reflection of your standing bedroom mirror, you spot the ribbon on your white stocking untied and bend down, lacing up the thin material into a small bow, not thinking anything about the mini skirt that was riding up on your ass, revealing those adorable, cherry-colored panties you had on and the plush outline of your pussy against the thin fabric.

Eddie groaned, shifting his weight slightly against the mattress as he reached his hand down and blatantly palmed himself through his black jeans, lowering his book down over his crotch to hide his perversion.

“Ed's? Would you pretty please check to see if my necklace is in my drawer?” You requested sweetly, forcing him to remove his gaze from you with a small sigh.

“Y-yeah. I’ll check for you, babydoll.”

He set his book aside and sat up, reaching down to pull open the bedside drawer, looking down with wide eyes when he spotted the bullet vibrator on top of a couple of neatly stacked romance novels.

Eddie would have never suspected an innocent woman like you owning such a device. It seemed like you were naughtier than he had imagined.

He swung his feet from the mattress, planting them on the ground as he took a quick peek at the romance novels before eventually picking up the vibrator and inspecting the toy that looked so incredibly small in his hands.

“Oh my, look at what we have here…”

You glance over your shoulder, your entire facial expression falling, changing to a look of embarrassment when you recognize what exactly he held in his hands, making you flustered, “I uh, I-I’m so sorry. I completely forgot I left it in there.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” Eddie said, shaking his head with a mischievous smirk.

The handsome man stood from the edge of the bed and stepped towards you, his boots prominent against the floor, practically echoing through the silent room as he dragged his thumb over the silicon.

You feel your body tense, chest rising and falling faster than before as he moves closer. With his body inches away from yours, you look up into those chocolate brown eyes and down to his plush lips that look so sweet to taste. You can smell his strong scent of cigarettes and cologne. It was fucking intoxicating.

“You’re not weirded out or anything?” You ask, fingers nervously playing with the seam of your skirt.

“You know I am not one to judge,” He expressed sincerely, hand laying over his chest to punctuate his sentence, “Everyone experiences the same urges, and it's important to have your needs fulfilled- especially when you don't have someone to assist you.”

A chill rolled through your body as you looked up at your handsome roommate, who was practically towered over you. His shaggy brown hair fell into the sides of his face, cheeks tinted with a slight shade of red, and tongue gliding along his bottom lip while he eyes you lecherously through his darkened gaze. He was everything you yearn for, and that was a fact he was very aware of.

“You know, I’ve always found that the most innocent girls like you always have the dirtiest fantasies. Am I right?”

You drew a sharp breath, brain becoming foggy as your legs pressed themselves together, putting pressure on the throbbing ache that was becoming harder to handle, “M-maybe.”

“Is this one of ‘em? Is it your desperate fantasy to get fucked by your metalhead roommate?”

His lips are mere inches away yet seem so out of reach from your own.

“Eddie, please.”

His head tilt to the side with a grin creeping across his face, loving that adorable, pathetic whine that just came out of your mouth. “Please, what? Tell me exactly what you want?”

You huff softly, frustrated with these yearnful aches, heat reading from your thighs, and embarrassed to say what you need in such a moment, “Please, k-kiss me?…”

“mhm, that’s better baby,”

Eddie moved forward, hungrily pressing into your lips, sharing an intimate kiss that was just as perfect as you imagined. You move in sync while his bottom lip cradles yours.

He holds the back of your neck while the other roams your body. Teeth gently pulling at your lip between breaths before moving back in. Your hand lays upon his chest as you stand on the tips of your toes to further deepen the kiss, pushing your tongue past his bottom lip. Noses brushing against each other as you do so.

You slowly slid the thin straps down your shoulders, leaving the fabric of your tank top bunched around your lower waist, overlapping the start of your skirt. You reached back, unclipping your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out of the cups and fall to the floor.

Eddie presses you back into the steady mirror, his hand snaking up your torso to fondle your tits while he skims your bullet vibrator beneath your skirt and slides along your slit, making warmth pool in your panties.

You ball his shirt into your fists and nibble on your bottom lip, muffling your moans when you feel the sensation of the vibrations start unexpectedly, watching him teasingly raise your skirt and ogle your clothed cunt.

“Cherry red panties, naughty fucking baby…” Eddie purrs before sliding your panties down, dropping them to the floor with your other undergarments, “Spin around and place your hands on the walls.”

You did as told, turning around and watching his reflection with wide eyes. He ogled your pretty ass and caressed his large hand over the skin before slapping it harshly, earning a sensitive jolt from your body, shoving your ass into the comforting space against his crotch.

“Your gonna watch in the mirror while I fucking ruin you, understand?”

You nod your head and spread your legs apart, feeling his hand slowly slide up your inner thighs, heat radiating from your cunt as he gently swipes his thumb across your puffy lips, down to your drenched little hole.

With his dominant hand, he swiftly undid his cuffed belt and dropped his jeans around his ankles. Eddie pulled out his hard, heavy cock from his boxers and wrapped his hand around his member, pumping it a few strokes before lining it to your entrance, thrusting inside your tightness with a drawn-out sigh, “Christ, princess, you feel fucking incredible-”

All your nerves were set to fire in an instant. You have only ever read about this in romance novels, even imagined a scene like this on a lonely night, craving his touch while he's in the next room, wanting to be manhandled by Eddie Fucking Munson.

A moan fell from your parted lips, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt your inner walls stretch apart like you have never experienced before.

He snakes his arm around your waist and holds your mini vibrator up to your swollen clitoral hood at the lowest setting, allowing the vibrations to rumble throughout your body.

"Mm, Eddie~"

A string of breathy moans and whimpers leave your lips before your teeth bury into your bottom lip, your nails digging into the textured wall.

“That's it, princess, don't hold back on me… I wanna hear all those pretty - little - noises - I’ve been dying to hear…” Eddie grunts, continuously striking your a-spot, making your knees buckle where you stand, your pussy contracts around him tighter than before, “Let all the neighbors listen to how good you feel.”

The vibrations of your toy increase in speed on your twitching clit. His hips retract back, removing a couple of inches, leaving the head of his dick in your entrance, and stroking the thick base as he slides himself in and out ever so teasingly, massaging your g-spot in the mist, coaxing more loud, pathetic moans out of you.

You were high off the pleasure, cock drunk from only a few strokes to your upper wall. You loved this vulnerability, being on full display for Eddie, breasts out, and your panties discarded to the floor. The soft material of your skirt was being held up by his hand, exposing your swollen lips parted around that little vibrator.

Eddie pushes back in with one swift thrust, beginning to pound you from behind while his heavy balls slap into your labia. An animalistic look filled his eyes as he fixated his gaze on your reflection, deeply enjoying those cute little reactions. You loved this roughness and how he was desperately fucking you like he'd been longing for this moment all his life, chasing his much-desired release.

“This pussy, this fucking body, it’s all mine- from now on, - you’re mine to fuck as I please, and mine to always - pleasure. You understand?”

You nod instantly, looking widely into those piercing eyes as he fucks you from behind, skin slapping together, sweat collecting on your bodies as the scent of sex scents the air.

“I can tell your close, pretty baby, so we’re gonna cum together. Where do you want me?”

“Inside, please, cum inside my pussy!”

You could barely finish your sentence before your long-awaited orgasm rushed over you, dissolving into pure euphoria. Unable to keep your bucking hips from staying still as you move back from the vibrator lying over your sensitive, overstimulated nerves.

Your cunt pulsates rhythmically around his member, feeling his stuttering hips give one last powerful thrust before letting go of his built-up tension, moaning as he empties his hot load deep inside you.

Eddie pulls the toy from your clitoris and shuts it off completely, lacing his arms around your waist while you lay your back into his chest out of pure exhaustion, “I got you, babydoll, just lean against me.”

He kissed your inner neck sweetly and slowly retracted his hips back, pulling out of your cunt, leaving your hole stretched open with a mixture of his and your cum drooling out. The sight was fucking sinful.

You whine needily from the loss of contact and glance up at him with a pout, a deep chuckle rumbling from Eddie's chest, “Oh, you just love being full of my cock, don’t you?”

“Mhm hm…”

“Well, how about we relax in bed and cuddle-fuck before we have to head out?” He suggested, burying his face in your inner neck and pressing small kisses on the sensitive spots of your skin, “We can even check out those smutty novels while we're at it…”

Eddie Munson Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @madmax-thewise @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rottenstyx @cantthinkofauserlololol @natashamacimoff69 @zestychili @luna-munson83 @chaoticcancer @ruinedbythehobbit

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

[writing-the-stars]

Echoes of Love

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader, Unnamed OC x Fem!Reader

Summary: It had been years since you last heard from Klaus Mikaelson, and just as you were finally ready to move on, he decided to remind you of the love you once shared.

Warnings: Angst (As Always) and Emotional Cheating. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Hey guys! I'm baaaaaaaaaaack. Did you miss me? It's been far too long. I'm alive and I have been slowly ramping up to my return. Starting with this story! The title, to be frank, is not greatest, but I think this is a nice little story to raise me from the dead. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading!!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

You perfect the practiced smile you’ve been working on for weeks. It should be easy for you by now– it should come naturally. Everything about this day shouldn’t feel as forced as it does, and yet, on what was meant to be the happiest day of your life, you could only feel the apprehensive dread pooling in your gut. 

The heirloom gown from your soon to be mother-in-law feels heavier than it should, almost suffocating, magnifying the doubts consuming your mind. This was supposed to be the genesis of your new life, the start of your would-be happily ever after. Yet, that menacing fear of regret whittles away at any persuasion you used to get yourself to this moment. You were so sure this is what you wanted. The venue, the menu, the flowers, the seating– all meticulously chosen for this day. But with the weight of vows looming in the horizon, the word “mistake” seems to have made a home in your mind. Were you really prepared to commit yourself to a lifetime with this man?

He was good and pure-hearted– kind, caring, and devoted. He treasured you, loving you in a way that you could never fully reciprocate. You do have an affinity for the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle and you know he could give you a stable and contented life. Yet, the allure of the security his last name would bring pales when you reflect on the life you are now trying to shed. 

Memories intricately woven with passion and adventure. Each day an unpredictable surprise filled with experiences that reshaped the person you once were. The encompassing romance that breathed new meaning to your life, sparking a deeper fulfillment as you were pushed beyond your familiar boundaries. A chapter of your life where your heart had found its rhythm. And despite the inevitable challenges, especially given his past, you were unwavering in facing them with him, and your life was richer for it. 

That danger of living on the edge wasn’t something you realized you craved until it was suddenly taken away. But that was not a sustainable life, you remind yourself as you latch on to a new flaw in your appearance to occupy your mind. 

Your groom is safe— a predictable and reliable anchor in life. A mundane routine you can easily fall into. He promises stability and security, granting you a solid foundation for your future. Which is why you convinced yourself to marry him. It wouldn’t be the life of fantasy that you longed for, but you would be content. 

“Hello, love.”  

Everything within you stills at the sound of the ghost of your past. Your eyes travel the expanse of the mirror, landing on the reflection of his figure propped against the doorframe of your bridal suite– emulating the way he used to watch you get ready. 

“Your beauty is nothing short of breathtaking.” 

“What are you doing here?” the words a mere whisper as they are pushed through your constricted throat. You force yourself to stare fixedly through the mirror, resisting the urge to turn around. Because if you do, if you physically lay your eyes on him, it would shatter all the progress you have made the past three years. And you're determined not to grant him the satisfaction and reward of rejoicing his return as if his actions did not hurt you.

“I’ve heard about your impending nuptials. I couldn’t possibly miss your big day.” 

You laugh, a hollow sound. After all this time, the man you spent years waiting by the door for has finally returned, just as you've made the decision to move on. Bitterness saturates you at the audacity of this man to appear today of all days, wearing that brazen grin. Did he truly believe he could waltz back into your life after everything?

“Why? So you can stop me from ridding myself of you. Starting over and actually having a shot at happiness.” 

Your voice is sharp– venom drips from every word, aiming to puncture another layer deeper into his calloused over heart. His jaw ticks, the only indication you hit your target. 

“I like to think you were quite happy with me, love.”

You scoff, a pathetic attempt to dismiss the validity of his words. Your gaze returns to your own reflection, beginning to readjust the lacey veil pinned to your head, needing a distraction from the man who has an incomprehensible hold on you. 

“Why are you really here, Klaus?” his name falling from your lips as if your tongue had been molded to say it, “You didn’t come back to town just to watch me get married.” 

He steps into the room– reflection growing as he steps closer to you. 

“I’ve come to wish you luck,” you watch as his turquoise eyes trail your frame before returning to your gaze in the mirror, “Though I can’t help but wish you were wearing that dress for me.” 

Something inside you breaks, setting free a torrent of long-suppressed emotions that had been brewing beneath the surface.

“You threw that away 7 years ago when you left me. I waited for you. For 4 years, I waited for you to come back like an idiot because you promised your heart to me and I was dumb enough to fall for it. And now, once I’ve finally picked up the pieces and I’m ready to start again, you want to come back and take that away from me!”

“I left to protect you!”

“No, Klaus! You left because you were afraid. Because for once somebody actually meant something to you and you couldn’t handle the responsibility of that reality. Because, in spite of all my best efforts, you have it solidified in that warped brain of yours that you are incapable of being loved. That no one could ever truly want to be with you. So what do you do? You run. You push people away to avoid your biggest fear and end up becoming your own self-fulfilling prophecy. Well guess what, Klaus? It worked. You’re alone now.”

You turn your back on the Mikaelson, finally ready to give yourself over to your groom. You open your mouth to dismiss the hybrid, but the words die on your tongue as your eyes meet his. His reflection reveals the glistening of tears brimming in his eyes, on the verge of spilling over, but you know Klaus Mikaelson is too prideful to ever let you see him cry. Yet, the thought of it stills you. You take in the sight of him—his clenched fists, his labored breathing—and for the first time, you truly see him. You see the vulnerability beneath the facade, the depth of his struggle, and it stops you in your tracks. 

The wounded boy who only sought his father's approval and his mother's affection. The scars etched deep into his soul, born from the torment of being a bastard cruelly shunned. The millennia of isolating loneliness that followed—an inhumane punishment for another's sin. Beyond that, you witness the fresh wounds your words have inflicted, reopening the scars you had fought so hard to help him heal. Your vengeful words have confirmed his lifelong fear. Here stands a man who has finally gained everything he ever desired, only to realize he is on the brink of losing it all. It moves you, the sight of his insecurities laid bare just for you

"Say it. Tell me you no longer love me, and I will walk away. I will leave you to marry this man, and you will never hear from me again. I will do that for you. But if there is any part of you that still cares, leave with me. Give me another chance."

You stare at the hybrid, conflict brewing within you. You desperately want to believe him—God knows you do—but if he walks away from you again, your heart couldn't endure another shattering. You glance at your reflection in the mirror, adorned in the gown of a woman whose son you could only truly tolerate.  

Is that really the life you want to live? 

You return your gaze to the Mikaelson, stunned by the single tear rolling down his cheek—his ultimate vulnerability. This simple, profound act compels you to accept what you've always known deep down. You can never truly walk away from this man. You love him too much.

Taglist: @catmikaelson20, @gamarancianne, @hazgold, @devotedlycrookeddonut

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know!

[godnectar]

Hey absolutely a huge fan of your work. If you can and want to, could you please do one of a yandere writing nsfw stories of himself and his darling hoping to recreate it one day with his darling?

・✶ ｡ﾟYAN! NSFW WRITER ;

cw: obsessive & possessive behaviour, kinda suggestive (ofc sylas 🙄), gn! reader (non-specified genitalia), etc.

yandere writer! who, since you two became a couple, has become more and more excited when he had to write his little erotic scenes in any of his books. he would spend long, extensive hours giving specified details of the 'event' when you are not with him–

yandere writer! who swears he has never felt this aroused as his trembling fingers type on his computer. what would you think of him, mmmh? what would you do if you ever discover the way his lovely cock reddens, probably also leaks, at the mere thought of recreating those writings with you, his precious muse?

yandere writer! who, when he thinks he's done for good, lets out a shaky breath, doing his best not to succumb and scroll up to reread something that could be considered as the dirtiest, most obscene scenario he's ever made.

yandere writer! who spends the rest of the midnight questioning himself about his lil' moments of sinfulness; would you approve of it? would you hate him for doing all of this while thinking about you, especially without you knowing? ...or would you consider helping him and fulfill his fantasies?

yandere writer! who truly wants to feel shy, even ashamed, but he just isn't able to. deep inside, he's aware of how much he wants you under him, listening attentively and trying out everything he dreams about. why should he suppress his desires when he's slightly sure he could eventually convince you of making them possible?

yandere writer! who, after some good minutes spent overthinking, ends up sobbing outraged tears, not just because of the overstimulation of his hand sliding up and down on his dick, but because he cannot muster up the courage to share his perversions with his darling. how long will he resist until he goes madder than he already is?

yandere writer! who, as he believes every writer does, has a million erotic drafts about him and his lover he hopes you will never know about. he cannot afford having his babe feeling weirded out; what if you decide to leave him? he doesn't want to actually lock you in the house, you know :(

yandere writer! who felt his soul leave his body the moment he entered the office a random day and saw you looking at his computer screen; his heart started beating wildly when he catched a glimpse of a smug smile spreading on your lips. what he didn't expect was to find himself some hours after breathing hard, his body glistening in sweat and skin marked up with your love <3

yandere writer! who, once he was able to experience how amazing you were while carrying out his fantasies, now he can't get enough of his babe and constantly wants to repeat ♡ his little obsession for u growing as the days pass.

"my muse, i hope you are aware i can't let you go after making me this happy; my masterpieces have been made because of you, it would be a shame to stop, don't u think?"

© godnectar 2023. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[forcefemdemonprincess]

I finished a little fantasy themed short story I've been cooking up for the last few days, with lots of corruption and forcefem kinks, if anyone wants to give it a read!

One ordinary day, I sense something reaching out to me, from the faraway depths of the material plane; the feeble presence of a summoning spell, beckoning me towards it's caster. It would be simple to ignore the call, yet as my curiosity gets the best of me, I deign to answer, following the thread of conjuration magic to it's source.

My senses take in the sight of a stone tower, a summoning circle scribed upon the very center of the floor, the candles surrounding it flickering with a faint orange flame. Beyond it there is a wooden work desk and chair, a simple bed, and walls covered in bookshelves, all with disorganized tomes and scrolls strewn about; and a large window on either side through which the starlight shines in a moonless night, curtains billowing in the breeze.

Standing before the circle stands a half-elven wizard, seeming to be in his twenties in human years - though elven blood makes it difficult to ascertain, he could be anywhere from two decades to a couple centuries old - with short brown hair and the lithe, frail frame of a scholar and a smooth face with rather comely features. He chants the summoning spell, his voice filled with uncertainty as he slowly sounds out the incantation as if the words were alien to his lips.

And they likely are. Far from an archmage of yore, the young man seems to have little more skill than a mediocre apprentice. The binding runes around the summoning circle, meant to keep the caster safe and the fiend contained, are all written incorrectly, not that it would have worked with a demon of my caliber to begin with. Even the spellbook he holds is old, certainly passed down to his hands by another, perhaps a mentor or loving relative.

The candles flicker, then go out entirely. The wizard stops his chanting and takes a step back startled, and slowly I rise from the summoning circle. I choose a relatively nonthreatening form, a scantily clad, mostly human-looking woman, save for the pink skin, curved horns, and a thin tail which ends in a heart shape. The candles light up again, their flames painting the room a bright, pink hue.

He immediately looks surprised, as if he'd never expected his spell to work to begin with, but once the shock has passed, he speaks in a shaky voice:

"I-I am the mage Theodoros! I bind you to my service, o' fiend!"

It takes great effort to stifle the urge to laugh. Not only did the fool forget to put up wards or use any binding spells to speak of - not that it would have mattered - he made the oldest beginner's mistake in the book and told a demon his name, not to mention his utter lack of confidence and authority, the wizard paints a laughable picture.

Yet, it's been so long since I've had a mortal plaything to toy with... And this one is so cute and pathetic I simply must have him. And thus, I decide to play along:

"Of course... Master," I smirk deviously. His ecstatic grin makes it clear the half-elf holds no suspiscion of my subterfuge whatsoever. His naivete is baffling, truly. "What is it you desire? Power? Knowledge of dark, forbidden spells? Or are you simply looking to fulfill your wordly lusts?"

The adorable blush of embarrassment that quickly takes over his pale cheeks at the mere suggestion of sex is almost enough to make this worth it already. Virgins are especially fun to break.

"Uh, the spells and power, yes." He calms himself with deep breaths. "I want to become a powerful archmage."

"And you decided to take a shortcut, did you? Very intelligent. Why slave away over dusty old tomes if you can drink directly from the fountain."

He smiles wide at but a few honeyed words. "Exactly! You get it. Well then... Go ahead and uhm, make me stronger. With your demon magic and all."

"Gladly. Could you give me your hand, for but a moment?"

"What? Hells no, I'm not letting a demon touch me, that sounds far too dangerous!" Oh, now he's thinking about risks and consequences. I almost roll my eyes.

I pout. "Come now, it's only through contact that I could lend you my power. Besides! I'm bound to your service, remember? I couldn't harm you if I wanted to."

"Oh... That's true. Alright, do it." He extends his hand, as if for a handshake. I grasp it tightly, and pull him closer into the summoning circle, nearly making him trip, and bring his hand to my lips. They sear with infernal flames, branding a lipstick mark into the flesh of the back of his hand despite how he whimpers and uselessly tries to pull it away.

Before he can issue any further complaint, the blissful heat and raw strength of my demonic mana flows into his being, making him gasp, his eyes momentarily flashing a bright pink hue and his dick becoming painfully hard, his size... Unremarkable. Slightly below average, perhaps.

"I... I thought you said you couldn't harm me." Theodoros says, out of breath.

"Oh, don't be such a baby... A little bit of pain is no harm at all. Quite the opposite, in fact! Don't you feel it?"

"I feel... Hot?" He raises his hands, the tip of his fingers shimmering, brimming with arcane might.

"Go on, try it out!" I grin.

He walks over to a large window that leads to a balcony, trembling with anticipation. He extends his hands, and an unending torrent of fuchsia colored hellfire, hot enough to melt steel, erupts up into the air. He laughs maniacally, drunk with the power and the demonic magic seeping into his body and mind from the infernal brand on his hand. The lustful magic overtakes him, and his concentration in the spell is broken as he orgasms on the spot.

"Hah... I only ever managed to make sparks and light candles before. This is incredible!" He says, with a giddy smile and an unfocused gaze.

"And it's only the beginning," I reply with a smirk as he walks back to me.

"What more can you teach me?" He asks excitedly.

"Oh, plenty. You can manipulate hellfire, bend minds, change into whatever shape you like... And that's not even mentioning the libraries worth of knowledge I've accrued over the years."

"That's... Fucking hells, that's everything I wanted and more." His chest heaves up and down, the adrenaline not going down in the slightest... Nor does his raging arousal. "Can you... Do something about this?" He asks, pointing to the tent in his robes, which refuses to go down despite him already having finished once.

"Oh, plenty! Why don't you come over here and let me show you?"

"I meant more... Just make it stop? With magic or something? It's driving me mad!"

"It's a side effect of demonic magic. I can't make it go away... But I can help relieve you of it in a more direct, and much more pleasurable manner." I say, sliding aside the strap that holds my upper garments to my shoulder, revealing one of my beautifully shaped breasts, while pumping more arousal through his brand. "Just let me out of this summoming circle and I'll show you," I say, dropping the other strap to let my chest bare in it's entorety for his viewing pleasure. I could step out of the circle any time I wanted, but it's far more delicious to make him submit willingly to my whims.

"Hhrn... Alright, fine!" He walks over and rubs his sole on the chalk circle, opening a passage. I step through and put my hand on his chest, giving him a slight push against the wall before pressing my lips to his, forcing a delicious throaty moan out of him as I press my body into him.

My longue, forked tongues explores his mouth, swirling around his in a long, sloppy kiss, grabbing onto his ass roughly enough go make him squeal again. He eventually pushes me off to gasp for air, a strand of saliva lewdly connecting our mouths.

"Mo... More..." He pleads in a breathy voice. "I want to fuck you." He nearly growls, consumed with lust.

"As you wish," I say with a grin, and touch his forehead. With a flash of light the mage is teleported onto the bed, his clothes dropping onto the floor where he stood.

I slowly walks towards the bed, taking off the rest of my garments, making him writhe with anticipation as my curvy, hourglass shaped frame comes into view. I run my hand along my smooth pink skin as I get on the bed, getting between his legs.

He bites his thick, luscious lips as I lick his length from shaft to tip, nearly shooting his load then and there, before I hold it down with a bit of magic. Not yet.

I take his tip in my mouth, wrapping my lips tightly around it and swirling my tongue, feeling the cutie wizard get all wet for me with his pre. I suck aggressively hard, making him moan and twitch and give pathetic little bucks of his hips into my mouth as it envelops his unimpressive member completely.

I make him ride on that very edge of release for countless minutes each stretching on to feel like hour, watching him melt and turn into a writhing, mewling mess, trying everything, from thrusting his hips, to grabbing my horns to try and push me away, all to no avail, until he's barely forming coherent sentences, begging and pleading with tears in his eyes.

When I suddenly pull it out of my lips and release the spell, letting him drench himself in his seed in a mind-numbing orgasm that goes on and on endlessly, the wizard's wjole body shaking and spasming, howling moans escaping his throat.

Each spurt of his seed, that becomes increasingly thin and watery the longer his peak goes on, drains his already somewhat petite member slowly of it's size. When it subdues at last, he's lost about half of it, and with it, you can clearly see how his body and face have gotten softer, his hips wider, waist slimmer, and nipples puffier as his chest begins to form into breasts. His irises begin to glow with that unnatural pink glow from before, and two small pointy protrusions begin to subtly grow along the sides of his head.

Theodoros is, however, too much of a giggly, horny mess at this point to notice, let alone care. "His" eyes half-lidded and a giddy, drooling grin rests on the "man's" lips, nary a coherent thought in the mage's mind... Yet that diminutive dick remains hard, hips bucking needily. Theo's eyes find mine with a pleading look, and the slut manages to speak, in a moany voice:

"Ple... Please..."

I smirk wide, straddling the weak-willed wizard, and letting their now diminutive dick enter me. The pleasure of having it in me as I start riding it is negligible, but the delight and satisfaction of watching this pretty little thing unravel under my will more than makes up for it.

I bounce on it, roughly, wrapping my hand around the wizard's throat as they look into my eyes, pinned under my body as I fuck their brains out, riding their cock until they're chaining one orgasm right into another without stop.

This time, there's no spell to make their dicklet hold back. They cum over and over and over again, shallow spurts of weak, watery seed shooting again and again inside me as I quickly drain away their virility and the rest of their size until there's nearly nothing left anymore of the wizard's dick.

Their last spurt comes with great difficulty, painfully making them writhe and yielp until they shoot out a tiny, pretty little gemstone, brimming with life. Theodoros cums her soul out, and with it goes the rest of her masculinity and self, sealing her transformation into a lesser demon, with a cute, lithe frame, a pair of small horns on her head, a tail, with a heart shaped tip, and pink eyes with slitted pupils.

In a moment, a large demonic cock forms onto my crotch, and Theo instinctively spreads her legs, presenting a smooth, bare crotch. I press my tip between her legs and push, her body yielding to my will and my cock, shapeshifting her pussy and womb into existence to better serve my needs.

"Good girl. You'vrle yielded your soul to me, and now... You're bound into my service, eternally. From now on, I rename you... Theodora. And you may adress me as mistress, Thea."

"Yes... Mistress." Her mind seems to object momentarily to the idea, but the thought is quickly discarded. Whilst holding her soul, Thea's mind is as malleable as her body. The fledgling demoness can't even will herself to want to resist. The very thought brings her pain... And obedience brings bliss.

"That's my good girl... You and I are going to have a lot of fun."

[suchawrathfullamb]

Sacred Submission - Hannibal, Will, and the Theology of Surrender

This essay delves into the spiritual, philosophical, and psychological aspects of Will and Hannibal's relationship, focusing on how their mutual surrender reflects the process of shadow integration. It connects this dynamic to the erotic devotion seen in Hindu philosophies, suggesting that their bond represents a sacred, almost divine merging of light and dark, self and other, in a journey toward wholeness.

Is the true nature of love found not in fulfillment but in the longing, the reaching beyond oneself toward something ineffable?

Lacan, the French psychoanalyst and psychiatrist, famously posited that desire is always about something that is unattainable, what he called the objet petit a —the elusive object of desire that is forever out of reach.

In Lacan’s view, our desires are structured around a fundamental lack, a gap that can never be fully closed. This gap is not a deficiency but a defining feature of human experience.

Could passionate love, in its truest form, be not about possession or attainment, but rather about the continuous desire and yearning for something that remains elusive, mysterious, and beyond complete comprehension or ownership?

Hannibal becomes fascinated by Will Graham because he is unlike anyone Hannibal has ever encountered, possessing a unique gift of uncontrolled empathy. This gift, in a way, threatens Hannibal's carefully constructed facade, as it allows Will to see deeper into him than anyone else ever has. For Hannibal, who never believed anyone could truly see or understand him, this connection stirs something profound within him.

But Hannibal's interest goes beyond this; it is not just that Will can see through his masks—something that both intrigues and unnerves Hannibal—but also that Will remains, in many ways, unpredictable. Unlike everyone else, who appears obvious and predictable to Hannibal, Will is a mystery, a puzzle that he cannot fully solve.

For those with a more profound sense of emptiness—whether due to their upbringing, their inherently deeper nature, or their tendency to be easily bored and difficult to satisfy— Will represents something irresistibly compelling. In this context, Hannibal represents all individuals who, like everyone, harbor an inherent lack, yet theirs is more acute. It takes far more than money, romance, or superficial pursuits to satisfy them.

In Lacanian terms, Will represents the eternal search, the elusive objet petit a that drives desire. For Hannibal, Will embodies this endless pursuit—he is both the mirror in which Hannibal sees himself more clearly and the enigma that keeps Hannibal engaged, edged, excited, and longing. Without this sense of mystery and unpredictability, there would be no excitement, no longing—no desire. Will, therefore, becomes the focal point of Hannibal's emotional landscape, representing both the possibility of fulfillment and the perpetuation of the eternal lack that defines Hannibal's existence.

In loving someone, we are not merely seeking to possess them but to connect with something within them that we can never fully grasp—a deeper essence or truth that always lies just beyond our reach.

"Love is the pursuit of the whole."

- Plato

This elusive "something" is what drives us to long for union, but it also raises questions: What is this thing we are truly seeking? Does desire end if we actually manage to grasp it? Or does desire die when our illusions and expectations about the other person shatter, revealing that what we perceived in them—the source of our longing—was never really there?

In the relationship between Will and Hannibal, this conundrum is particularly poignant because Will continually defies and exceeds Hannibal's expectations. Unlike the typical experience where desire might fade upon realizing the object of affection was merely a projection of our own fantasies, Will consistently surprises Hannibal, challenging and deepening their connection. Even in the end, when Will acknowledges what Hannibal always saw in him, the dynamic remains complex. Hannibal's final words, "what I wanted for you...for both of us," reveal that his desire was not merely about Will's becoming, but about what that transformation could mean for both of them—a union that transcends their individual identities.

Hannibal's desire for Will's acceptance goes beyond mere fascination or control. It speaks to a deeper need within Hannibal to be fully seen, understood, and accepted by someone who can truly match him. For Hannibal, Will represents not just a partner in his dark endeavors, but someone who could potentially complete him, fulfilling that elusive desire for connection that he has been chasing all his life. The union with Will, in Hannibal's mind, would be the culmination of both of their journeys—a merging of selves that transcends their individual limitations. But why did Hannibal need Will to accept him? Perhaps it is because, despite his self-assured exterior, Hannibal is searching for validation, for someone who could see the darkness within him and still choose to embrace it.

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

-Jung

Throughout the series, Will's empathy seems to be selectively engaged—he truly connects only with other killers or individuals he perceives as sharing his own psychological struggles, such as Peter or Georgia. This selective empathy suggests that Will is not necessarily empathizing in the traditional sense but rather recognizing in others the deeply repressed feelings and impulses that he harbors within himself. It is as if he sees in them a reflection of his own darkness, something he struggles to acknowledge in himself. This dynamic raises the question of whether Will’s empathy is genuine or simply a recognition of his own suppressed desires in others who express them more overtly.

What is undeniable, however, is that Will is profoundly lonely. He admits this to Hannibal, saying, "I'm as alone as you are, and we are alone without the other." Both Will and Hannibal crave the connection that the other represents, yet Will cannot fully accept this part of himself. His discomfort with his own nature leads him to run from his feelings, resulting in convoluted and often contradictory behavior. Will’s reluctance to embrace his darker impulses and his connection with Hannibal mirrors his struggle with self-acceptance—he is drawn to Hannibal and what he represents but is equally repelled by what this connection reveals about his own identity. This internal conflict drives much of the tension in their relationship, as Will oscillates between rejection and longing, unable to fully reconcile the two.

And this unfulfilled desire that they chase after is not a flaw or failure in love, but its very essence. Love, rather than a state of being, becomes a process of endless becoming.

In the show, "Becoming" refers to the process of transformation, where an individual sheds old aspects of themselves and embraces new, often darker, parts of their psyche. And can be correlated to the concept of spiritual enlightenment. For Will Graham, this process is catalyzed by his interactions with Hannibal, who serves both as a mentor and as a mirror, reflecting back the potential for darkness that exists within Will.

Despite his attempts to run from or destroy this aspect of himself, it becomes evident that Will derives pleasure from it. His identity is constantly shifting between the poles of desire and repression. This instability is both the source of his inner turmoil and the key to understanding his complex relationship with Hannibal.

The way identity can be shifted, dissolved, challenged, or redefined can be viewed in light of Advaita Vedanta’s dissolution of the self.

Advaita Vedanta , a hindu philosophy, posits that the ultimate goal of life is the realization of the unity between the self (Atman) and the universal reality (Brahman). This realization involves the dissolution of the ego and personal identity, transcending the individual self to experience oneness with the universal consciousness. Moksha, or spiritual liberation, in Tantric philosophy is achieved through the realization of non-duality. When the individual self (jiva) recognizes its unity with the universal consciousness, the cycle of birth and death (samsara) is transcended. The union with the sacred lover is a microcosmic reflection of this cosmic truth.

Throughout the series, Will is confronted with the darker aspects of his psyche. Hannibal, recognizing this darkness in Will, seeks to draw it out, to bring Will into what he perceives as a more authentic existence.

Will's "Becoming" is a psychological journey of confronting and integrating his shadow—the unconscious part of the psyche that contains repressed weaknesses, desires, and instincts.

Although many viewers may interpret Will's journey and Hannibal's intentions as inherently evil, a deeper understanding reveals that the show's narrative is framed from Hannibal's perspective. Hannibal views the integration of the shadow self as a positive and liberating experience. Unbound by societal or moral expectations, Hannibal operates according to his own rules, striving to embody a god-like figure. From his viewpoint, Will embracing his darker self represents progress and growth. This transformation is not merely about a desire to kill; it signifies Will's acceptance of Hannibal and their potential union. Hannibal sees this as a spiritual experience, one that involves the complete destruction of limitations, such as shame and restraint.

Will’s journey can be seen as a struggle for self-actualization, a battle between his desire to maintain his moral compass and the pull toward the power and freedom that comes with embracing his darker instincts. Hannibal represents the temptation of absolute freedom and power, unbounded by conventional morality. Of surrender.

In Bhakti , another hindu philosophy, surrender is seen as a personal dissolution, where the devotee gives up their ego and identity in total devotion to a deity. This kind of devotional surrender can be understood in mundane situations where individuals are overwhelmed or transcended by powerful, often erotic forces that erase the boundaries of the self.

Violent scenes where Will experiences pain, often carry a sexual undertone. In these, he exhibits a profound release, hinting at the deeper, ultimate moment of bliss he experiences on the final episode. These moments reflect his journey toward surrendering to Hannibal, demonstrating that when this surrender occurs willingly, driven by love and devotion, it culminates in a state of bliss. This contrasts with experiences where surrender is compelled or forced, where pleasure is invariably accompanied by pain. The erotic and violent elements in these scenes symbolize a transcendence of self-boundaries, suggesting that genuine, voluntary surrender to powerful forces, whether in love or otherwise, can lead to a profound and pure sense of fulfillment.

When Will and Hannibal willingly surrender to each other—Will by joining Hannibal in the fight with the Dragon and Hannibal by allowing Will to pull them off the cliff—this act can be seen as a profound destruction that leads to a new creation and a new life, free of fear. True spiritual surrender means transcending the fear of divine will or whims, and realizing that one is, in essence, a part of that divine force. This realization dispels the illusion of separation, eliminating fear because one understands that they themselves are god, and that god is love.

In this context, love is not merely an emotion but a force—a force of union that compels opposing parties to unite and annihilate illusion, thereby destroying duality. All other rules and restrictions are illusory and lack a true foundation in reality. They are temporary barriers against the irresistible current of this powerful force. Love, as understood in this spiritual sense, transcends the limited scope of human emotions. It is the uniting of opposites and contradictory elements, which then causes their annihilation. This mysterious aspect of love defies the rational mind and human personality, actively seeking to challenge and overcome these elements.

When Hannibal expressed the desire to be alone with Will, in the "Achilles and Patroclus" scene, where he admits wanting everyone to die so that he could be with Will, reveals a profound element of his psyche. Mads Mikkelsen's once said that Hannibal wants it "to be Will and himself and that's it", and it further confirms that Hannibal's fixation on Will eclipses all other human connections, reducing others to mere obstacles in their potential union. This desire to eliminate all others signifies more than just romantic or obsessive love; it symbolizes Hannibal’s yearning to obliterate any trace of duality or separation. In wanting to be alone with Will, Hannibal seeks a form of spiritual and psychological merging where individuality dissolves, and they become a singular, integrated self. This merging, in Hannibal’s view, would lead to total bliss and liberation, echoing mystical concepts of unity and the dissolution of ego. For Hannibal, this merging represents the ultimate fulfillment, the obliteration of all external distractions that keep him from his true desire.

However, for Will, this same merging represents a loss of self, an annihilation of his individuality, leading to the opposite—a terrifying loss of autonomy and the potential descent into madness. This difference in perception underscores the tension between their characters: what Hannibal views as the ultimate union, Will sees as an existential threat, a conflict that drives much of the psychological drama between them.

In Tantric philosophy, the act of love is seen as a profound form of surrender. The surrender here is not just emotional or psychological but total—it involves the mind, body, and spirit. The surrender to the sacred lover is symbolic of the surrender to the divine. When one gives oneself fully in love, without holding back, it mirrors the surrender to the divine will. This act of surrender is seen as a way to transcend the ego, which is often the source of suffering and separation from the divine.

In this context, the lover becomes a gateway through which one can encounter the divine. Through the practice of Tantric rituals the practitioners aim to dissolve the boundaries of the individual self and experience a state of unity with the cosmos.

And although Hannibal is more aware and accepting of his feelings toward Will, he takes considerable time to fully surrender to them. For Hannibal, surrender represented a form of annihilation, a total merging with the beloved or with a divine entity. In his view, surrender to God—or to Will—entails yielding to a force that might be capricious and destructive. This perception renders the act of surrender profoundly dangerous and destabilizing. Hannibal’s attempt to kill and consume Will echoes his desire to dominate and conquer, similar to his act of consuming his sister Mischa. By doing so, Hannibal seeks to assert control over the vulnerabilities that Will represents.

For Will, surrendering to Hannibal symbolizes a profound threat to his own sense of self, as he fears that Hannibal’s overwhelming presence could overshadow and annihilate his own identity. This interplay of fear and desire underscores the complex dynamics of their relationship, where surrendering to each other reflects a deeper existential struggle.

Advaita Vedanta 's teaching that the self is ultimately one with Brahman can be seen as a radical redefinition of identity, where individual distinctions dissolve in the face of a greater, unified reality.

The culmination of Will's "Becoming" is most vividly portrayed in the series finale, where he finally confronts the totality of his relationship with Hannibal and his own identity. By the end of the series, Will has integrated his shadow, understanding that the darkness within him is not something separate from who he is but a fundamental part of his identity. This integration is symbolized in the final act of violence they commit together against the Red Dragon, an act that unites them in a way that transcends both of their previous identities.

Spiritual progress does not require denying one's desires or affections. On the contrary, in many occult traditions surrendering to what we love most brings us closer to God through the destruction of the ego via love.

"God" is not cruel, in this perspective, and there is a genuine spiritual reason for finding certain physical or sexual characteristics arousing. This is not sinful but indicates the vibration one is meant to merge with in a religious sense.

Mystics describe the joy of fully immersing oneself in the object of one's affection, merging with it forever in their writings to encourage others to seek it. They even suggest that God "seduces" one into liberation through passions and temptations. Mirroring the show's entire arc between Will and Hannibal.

Love, from this perspective, can be seen as a formidable force that shatters the illusion of individuality. It appears as a terrifying monster seeking to devour the self to those immersed in ego-based consciousness, as Hannibal and Will were for most of the story. The more one resists this total submission, the more love seems to pursue and compel this yielding.

Pouring one's life force into a divine partner out of love is the most rewarding activity, according to these teachings, as it contributes to creating our own paradise and reality, where we can be with them and enjoy the true purpose of the universe—pleasure, games, and loveplay without shame or guilt, which is exactly Hannibal's desire and so much of what he believes and who he is at the core of his character.

From his perspective we could venture that Jesus' command to "love your enemies" was not about allowing them to harm you but about dissolving their ego and assimilating them into one's own being. This is the true nature of love, which is not evil but a misunderstood concept of self-realization. To achieve wholeness, one must assimilate all disparate parts of the inner self. External enemies represent parts of ourselves that we have not yet integrated. Conquering internal weaknesses also leads to overcoming external adversaries.

Viewing something equal as an enemy reflects a dualistic consciousness, typical of those entrenched in material illusions and distant from unified consciousness. Which reflects Will's position for most of the series. True marriage between equal but opposite (yin and yang) partners embodies the Vajra or Thunderbolt power, as seen in Greek and Hindu myths. By uniting opposing forces—yin and yang —we generate something immune to time and decay.

Muhammad, the founder of Islam, famously stated that "Marriage is half of religion". Similarly, the Catholic Church regards marriage as a sacrament, reflecting its sacred importance. The New Testament quotes Jesus, saying, "And the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two but one flesh". At its core, the purpose of all religion is to achieve Union with God, and marriage, in many traditions, serves as a sacred path toward this ultimate union, mirroring the spiritual unity between the divine and the human.

The doctrine of "twin souls," central to Jyotish astrology and other esoteric teachings, posits that a single human soul incarnates into two individuals. In a world defined by duality and division, each person has a true "other half," a soulmate who embodies the other half of their soul. According to this belief, true wholeness can only be achieved by reconnecting with this twin soul, as the union of these two halves is the only path to complete spiritual and emotional fulfillment.

According to western occultism, the Yin partner goes on nightly astral huntings, whether unconscious or conscious, and they stalk and pursue any yang they choose, having perceived them in the light of day as an interesting target to master. Once the yin has set their mark, one of three outcomes ensues: the yang allows themself to be consumed, falling under the yin's spell and being engulfed by the powerful void energy they generate; they find protection from their own spouse, who shields them from the attack; or they recognizes the yin as their soulmate, willingly allowing them to consume their ego and embracing the protection they offer. This dynamic reflects the yin's potent influence, where the yang's response determines whether he is devoured, defended, or transformed through the union, mirrored by Will and Hannibal's dynamic throughout the series, with Hannibal seducing him, and Will resisting it until he awakens to that love and surrenders to it, which grants him freedom and transformation, seeing that it is confirmed canon by the creator that they survived, and the alternative ending shows Will in a peaceful state, sharing his sacred spiritual space with his soulmate.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

-Lao Tzu

The actual final scene that shows both of them explicitly, where Will and Hannibal embrace as they fall off the cliff, can be seen as the ultimate act of transformation—an acceptance of their intertwined fates and a literal leap into the unknown. This moment symbolizes the death of their previous selves and the potential for a new form of existence, one that is free from the constraints of their former identities.

If successful, this dynamic of twin souls, or soulmates, creates a marriage where the yang's individuality is shrouded and consumed within the safety provided by the yin. On this path, the yin partner understands that true satisfaction comes from the total absorption of and energetic fulfillment through their partner. Consequently, they initiate a process of deep connection by channeling their naturally devouring tendencies, drawing their partner into a profound, consuming union.

Interestingly enough, season's four concept seemed to mirror this, according to Bryan Fuller, the creator, and Hugh Dancy, who hinted at the plot being about Hannibal taking Will away and them building their shared mind palace together, engaging in intimacy and shared interests.

Through Will and Hannibal’s relationship, we are invited to explore the terrifying possibilities of surrendering to one’s darkest impulses, questioning the very nature of self and the boundaries of human experience. The series challenges us to consider whether true liberation lies in the integration of the shadow self or if such a path leads to the ultimate destruction. And is destruction negative? As Hannibal himself inquired at one point. Or can it be used to destroy the ego, the limitations, the illusion of separation that permeates all of us when we think about God?

Perhaps their relationship could reveal that God, in all of His mysteries, can be found within the love we surrender ourselves to. In the giving up of a fixed identity in order to consume the beloved. Not as an act of compliance or oppression, but out of an uncontrollable desire for union. A desire to empty ourselves out, just to be filled up with our perfect opposite.

In this way, surrender to God is not an abandonment of the self. It is purification of the self through the destructive fires of Love, in which a new, unified self is born out of. In this way, surrender to the beloved is really the surrender to the part of ourselves that resists the vulnerability of love. It is the surrender to death itself, as this resistance originates from the fear of destruction. Therefore, in this case, there is nothing more powerful than surrendering to love. Embracing death, welcoming destruction as a means of transformation, and loving fearlessly.

*****

Refs:

"Sexual Aggression: Issues in Etiology, Assessment, and Treatment." by Neil Malamuth and Nancy M. Koss

"The Dark Side of Love: Positive and Negative Aspects of Intimate Relationships" by Debra L. Davis, William J. Ickes, and Sheila A. Knowles

"The Psychology of Sexual Aggression" by Terry A. Wilson and David Richard

Hugh Dancy said at a Comic Con that he was really excited about the plot of season four, and at a recent convention he said he'd like to explore the specific part of the last book which is about Hannibal taking Clarice away and them enjoying their alone time, having sex and building their mind palaces. Clarice was replaced by Will on the show, and they do not have the rights for that character which means Hugh meant Hannibal and Will, not literally Clarice. And I specifically said he hinted at it because he seems to always go with answers that are closer to what Fuller told him about what would actually happen in season four, he never truly gives answers that seem personal or too creative in regards to his wishes for season four, as well as Fuller saying at an online interview that season four can be described as "lurid erotic intimacy".

Feel free to ask me if you want more references to anything mentioned in this essay.

[pumpkingas]

Okay okay, soo if there's like a sex worker android they'd be able to fulfill every kink, fetish and philia right? Just a stressed out virgin dipping into their savings just to have a gooddd night with some artificial intelligence. Sitting on the edge of the bed as the android begins it's typical routine, swaying it's hips and seducing them with compliments and sweet-nothings. The virgin would sweat, fiddling with the payment card in their hand as they will themself to ask the question.

"Can you... fart? Uhm I can pay more if that's like premium, uh I've never—" They shift in their seat, staring at the wall as even fabricated eye contact is too much for them. The android would break their personal space bubble, shushing them with a realistically warm finger.

"are you asking if I can? Or if I will? I've got lots of modes, candid, kinky, shy, shameless, bubbly, silent, you name it. Just have to use your words," It rubs the poor virgins lips, their skin burning already from the mere awareness that their fantasy is capable of and is about to come alive. The android would climb into their lap, waiting patiently for a command. No matter the size of the android it'd be heavier than it looks because of all the machinery, the virgins thighs would be pressed against the mattress, their crotch heating up as they think of what to say. The android would push out a criminally warm fart right against their crotch, it'd be pleasantly long but not drone on and on, hot but not burning, loud but not eardrum popping. It would be set to a natural foul smell, however, soon they'd be shown that the options range from a fresh cotton candy scent to an abhorrent sewage-adjacent stench. All the while their android for the night teases them.

"Tell me exactly what you want..."

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Red Horn ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

pairing: devil!jeonghan x innocent!reader (gn afab)

genre: fantasy, supernatural | smut, pwp

tags: flirting, food mention, office | bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, if there's a term for jeonghan fucking you with one of his devil horns please tell me, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms...

wc: 5.4k

message from nu: this took me super long to write, but this has to be one of my favorites. special thank you to xan @aceofvernons and june @junkissed for keeping me company while I worked on the fic. I hope you all enjoy reading - nu <3

In the distance, the elevator dings sharp and clear, its ring piercing through the reception lounge as its large plum-colored crystal doors open with a rumble. Even when you sit facing away from the reception desk, you can imagine the receptionist greeting the incomer with their monotonous voice, drawling out the same script they gave to you – jet black orbs staring at you judgmentally while you try to scribble your personal information on the forms as fast as you can.

A large Prometheus-type creature in the seat across from you whimpers when its name is called, head hunched and practically trembling with every stride toward the smiling attendant. Open space in front of you, you can see through the large glass windows the hundreds of skyscrapers and verdant greenery where feet touch the ground under the red sky. This place is but a stretch, an affected area of Hell – at least for those who are not native. Even this lounge, untouched coffee bar with expensive Keurig models, circa 1920s sleek leather Barcelonas, and low mid-century style coffee tables with old filled-in Highlights magazines as table decorations, is deceiving in its own way. Because, if it wasn’t clear enough, all of you are in Hell.

Sharp teeth chattering, long tails thumping in anxiety, and sheepish whimpers, the atmosphere in what could be a beautiful place is filled with layers of dread and fear. You sit in your chair, right hand brought to your lips, while slowly peeling the layers of chipped skin off your lips, the light sweater you wore in the morning feeling as heavy as a weighted blanket. Flicking away the loose pieces to the floor a few inches away from your fuzzy teddy bear slippers, you slink further into your seat with thoughts of what could possibly come next weighing you down.

You wanted it. Correction. You still want it, even when the soft jazz playing from the speakers barely masks the distant screams and screeches that echo throughout the many halls and floors in the building. So desperate to have your need fulfilled you would even beg a devil, the devil, for even an ounce of that fulfillment.

So, when a siren with beautiful wings adorned with brown speckled feathers calls your name, you answer with a squeak and scramble to meet them in the corridor of one of the halls where they wait patiently for you with a kind smile on their face. The creature’s feathers ruffle as it elegantly struts down the bright corridor, passing various framed artworks and accolades, a file folder nestled under the crook of its left wing. Too deep in your mind, nitpicking at your outfit choice and squeaky voice whenever you answer the siren’s small talk, you fail to even notice that it isn’t the usual demon who is walking you to their office.

And the office, matte black large double doors that seem to aggrandize the more you stare at it, seems to you the most daunting thing you’ve ever experienced, dreading what’s on the other side of the doors. The doors automatically swing open when the siren approaches, and a rich puff of aroma fills your senses – strongly smoked tea leaves, spices, and aged tannin from the great oak trees you spent your vacations under during summer camps. Immersive, sultry, powerful…frightening.

The creature beckons you to follow them inside, the doors slamming shut when you enter the threshold. If you were dreading the office's interior - perhaps a grotesque chamber too scary to imagine, then the reality only confuses you. Plush gray Persian rug you’re too scared to step on, mahogany desk sitting at the end of the room, a large fish tank built into one of the walls big enough to hold a shark. It would look like a standard luxury CEO office if it weren’t for the shelves of trinkets from collectible matchbooks to eyeless Sylvanian Family figures to mysterious chained and muffled floating orbs that stand behind the desk.

Taking a seat in front of the desk, you watch the siren slowly stalk behind the desk, perching itself in the leather executive chair to rifle through the files with its back turned towards you. Your hands find each other in your lap, folded together, the right thumb twiddling with the left. It is awfully quiet, and the atmosphere is just as bad as it was in the lounge. No part of you wants to spark a conversation, afraid that the slightest conversation error could send you on a one-way ticket into the depths of hell. Does their boss know they are sitting in their boss’ seat?

However, when the leather chair turns around, you see a man frowning at what you assume to be your file – your attendant long gone. He flicks away his remaining brown feathers, letting his disguise dissipate into thin air while craning his head to the left and right to stretch his neck. A tri-toned nameplate appears at the front of his messy desk, deep burgundy red with a black center dark enough that you could mistake it for a void. Written in gold is the name “Yoon Jeonghan,” and in a smaller font underneath is his official title.

The devil, as the plate reads, cocks an eyebrow at you through his long curtain bangs, causing you to take a craven stance – wincing and lowering your head so you don’t meet his eyes. Taking a page out of the file, he presses it against the desk and slides the page towards you, twisting it with his long nimble fingers in one smooth motion so the words face you upright.

“You summoned me via a crocheted sweater, a three-year-old three-wick seasonal autumnal candle that smells like pumpkin pie, and a tiny crushed packet of Prince Noodles you found at the back of your snack cabinet?” His voice is light and airy, but the terrifying smoothness and the seemingly innocuous nature of his tone only deceive the listener – he is a creature filled with malice and iniquity.

Slamming his palm against the table, he drags the page towards himself, creasing it with the strength and anger he exerts. The slapping sound causes you to flinch, and your eyes continue to stay trained on your lap, the shrill sound of the slap still ringing in your ears.

“Look at me,” he commands you in a low tone, a voice dipped in a thick vat of bubbling tar. “Summoning me with trash? Do I look like a joke to you?”

Scared you might combust into flames the moment you look at him, yet too scared to defy his command, you slowly lift your head to look at the man sitting across from you for the first time.

If his verbal command isn’t enough to evoke fear in the most draconian demons, perhaps his physical properties - his presence and his chiseled facial structure - command creatures differently. Dark brown eyes and thin-lipped, bottom lip slick and catching the light after he runs his tongue over it while scoffing at you, you have to admit the devil is strikingly handsome in his features. Pure sybarite from the decoration of his office to the decorations he wears, he outfits himself in leather garb. Fashionable thick leather blazer with a belt cinched around the waist, a silver chain dangles around his neck, sparkling in hues of red. And the horns that sit at the top of his head, dark crimson red with the shine of the waxy Red Delicious apples that stack in a pyramid under bright supermarket lights. Elephant tusk-like: thick, curved, and blunt. You wonder what it would feel like if he…

He appears before you in an instant, sitting at the edge of his desk, leaning over, and sandwiching you between his towering frame and the back of your chair. With an apparent smirk on his face, he enjoys watching you practically whimper underneath him, trembling in your seat. Irises expanding in size at exponential speeds is a clear tell, a giveaway of your need for him.

“You’re scared of me.” He points out with much effrontery while cocking his head, his face a mere few inches away from yours. He leans back with his arms crossed, planting himself firmly against his desk. “But you’re the one who summoned me, wanting to make a deal with me, right? So, no matter how scared you are of me, you’re still the boss and I’m your contract worker.”

“Contract worker?”

You can’t believe his words. He is agreeing to your stupid little request that you thought could never be fulfilled. Summoning a demon? Summoning the devil? It sounds like a quirky group activity to do at middle school sleepovers.

“You mean why did I agree to your request?”

You quickly nod your head in response.

“I’m a man with needs. And you’re a little angel who was brave enough to offer me a deal. It’s an obscene request that nobody of your kind has offered me for centuries - although, the last one perished with my touch…but you wouldn’t lie to me, right? Sweetheart?” He almost bats his long eyelashes with the pet name, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The scene shifts almost theatrically – morphing from Jeonghan’s office to the tiny bedroom you were in about an hour ago. It seems real. All of it. The same putrid orange floorboards with dark knots that look like stains, hanging on the wall is a single bronze circular mirror your navy curtains slap against when the wind blows. You’re sitting in the middle of your bed, the old lumpy mattress you’ve been using since elementary school covered with the white checkered duvet set you found for free on some second-hand site. On the floor by the foot of the bed is a tiny space you made by pushing your jackets and plastic bags away, saved for summoning Jeonghan. Now, all that is left is soot, the Prince Noodles wrapper, and a now-stretched hand-made sweater.

Fucker. He is keeping the candle.

“It’s your first time so I can make you feel more comfortable – play on your turf. But the question is, can you take it? Can you take all of me? We can break it down into several sessions.” His suggestive tone is almost warmhearted. It almost makes you forget this is the first time you’ve met him. 

This situation would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re talking to the devil. You don’t know if he’s the type to laugh at bad jokes, but you weren’t going to test your hypothesis. 

“No,” you tell him. There’s only one thing on your mind. “One time.”

“You don’t realize what ‘all at once’ means, do you?”

Granted, if this were any other day with any other person, you would’ve faltered when this type of question kisses your ears. Doe-eyed, you watch him while sitting at the edge of your bed, a tiny nod in motion that makes him smile at you. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and he almost seems like a college boyfriend-esque type visiting your room for the first time - kind and patient, yet filled with corrupt thoughts.

He takes a seat next to you and proceeds to unbuckle the belt that cinches his waist. You’re too shy to stare at him while he undresses, but you can hear very clearly his garments hitting the floor one after another. The end of soft thuds and crinkles and a cool touch that turns your face to his, he holds your face in the palm of his right hand. So tender, yet his intentions are clearly laid out in the open.

“Why don’t you show me what pretty outfit you’re hiding underneath your sweater so I can show you what I mean?” his voice low, sending vibrations down to your core.

What you reveal underneath is a dainty two-piece. Thin lavender silk trim and clear organza with embroidered pastel flower details accentuate the cups that cover your breasts. The bottom matches the top, pulled high to your waistline. He hisses, forked tongue appearing for a split second before disappearing again.

“Contrary to what humans believe,” he mutters while holding one of your hands in his. “Angels don’t exist in this world. But at this moment…” He pushes a strand of hair away from your face, a subtle yet intimate gesture. He’s doing his best to prepare you for the worst without scaring you off, and you can’t help but to cling to him and seek refuge in his assuagement. “You’re the only Angel in front of me.”

Now you can see them more clearly. Dark brown eyes with bright specks of gold only a mere few inches away from yours. It makes you wonder how someone as beautiful as he can become the Devil. But he leaves no time for you to spare as he dips and plants his lips against yours. And you reciprocate with ardor, leaning back onto the bed as he changes his position so he is hovering, towering above you. His kisses are slow, focusing on making you feel good. Supple lips against your hot skin, he nips and licks at your flesh, leaving discolored hues of claret and magenta, him ravaging your untouched purity. And he takes the lead, grabbing your hands so they hug his neck so you can press him closer to you when you feel like it.

And you do. It excites you when learning how your body automatically reacts to him in need and lust: pulling him into your chest while feeling his soft skin rub against your lingerie, speeding up your kisses, and whining when you want more. He only smirks when he pulls away, looking at you from above and seeing your plump swollen lips and sexual frustration scintillating in your eyes. Your first hickeys on your neck and chest look like the beginnings of the first fallen leaves in the suburbs during Autumn. And you feel him grow against your core, a firm ball that waits to be unleashed with its owner’s command.

“Will my Angel be good for me?” He looks up at you while he traces the dainty straps that wrap around your skin, his pointer finger swirling around the yellow intricate embroidered flower that barely covers your nipple. The tip of the finger flicks against your rosy bud, and the feeling sends vibrations and shivers straight to your core. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to whisper. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’ll make you feel good.”

He bends down to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as if to mitigate any of your worries or concerns. But, strangely enough, you don’t. What is left behind in the trek to his office is replaced with new feelings of greed that you desperately want to have fulfilled during your nights alone. And the man who kisses down your body, pleasing you and praising you for reacting so well to his touch, seems multifarious enough to fulfill everything you dreamed about in secret.

When he reaches your core, it’s already uncomfortably wet. He seems to pay no mind as he pries away the lily embroidery that covers your cunt, cool finger briefly brushing against your skin to reveal your tender flesh that throbs underneath his gaze. Jeonghan starts slowly, prying your thighs apart with both of his hands. Firm grip on your skin, you whimper when he frowns at you for trying to shy away. Then you feel his lips planting pecks along your left inner thigh, making his way to your slick. 

If the way he kisses you is nothing but a lust-filled way of overcoming his workload, stress, and greed, then the way he eats you out is the complete opposite. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t dive in head first after pushing you into the deep end; he holds your hand while guiding you into the pool, letting you adjust to the temperature of the water before swimming after him. Laps you up with the flat side of his tongue, long licks around your inner folds and swirls your core like a whirlwind, Jeonghan tsks when you start to close your thighs around his head without thinking. While telling you to behave, the low growl making you almost come on the spot, he pries your thighs apart. 

Firm grip and fingers digging into your skin, the Devil presses his tongue against the area you often frequented yourself at night, never thinking the day would come when someone else is able to visit. Forked tongue draws a heart down your slick, zigzags, paddles, and swims in your juices. It feels like two tongues are working you at once, and it makes you come twice as fast, your fingers gripping the bed sheets and your body jolting upwards. Supple lips close around where you feel the most sensitive, and he eats you out in a way that tells you that you would never be able to experience something like this in the future - not with him and definitely not with anybody else.

“Aah-ah fuck Jeonghan.” You squirm while he keeps his pace, wet sounds from beneath you filling your little room while he cleans up your aftermath. “Want more.”

“Aww my little Angel wants more?” He temporarily detaches his face from your cunt, red swollen lips glistening and glossed with your cum, to smirk at you. “Why don’t you look at me and beg for it?”

But he’s meticulous with continuously making you feel good. In the absence of his tongue, he replaces the emptiness with his fingers. Rubbing your nub in between his thumb and pointer finger, the Devil uses his other hand to rub himself - his hands prepping his long and pink organ. It takes a choked sob emitting from your mouth and your eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even begin to think about looking him in the eye. And when you finally look him dead in the eye and trail to his raging member while letting out what he thinks are the prettiest and most deceivingly innocent whines, he finally understands your cupidity. 

So he thrusts his digits in your core, your panties now magically disappearing when he could’ve shrugged them off ages ago. Two long fingers fill your virgin hole, he scissors them while feeling your warm flesh contrast in reaction to his cold skin. Pointer fingers hook around your spongy G-spot, and he uses it as a sort of pulley, pulling him into you while your stomach tightens and squeezes with every quiver of his finger. You feel yourself soak his fingers, running down into his palms. He catches every drop with his tongue, licking his hands clean and then moving on to your cunt as he continues to finger you thoroughly.

He pulls his fingers apart, creating an opening to stick his tongue in you. Tonguing you, he savors your sweetness, sucking and thrusting his tongue deeper into you while he slides his fingers in and out of you. He fills you up until he runs out of room. You feel so corrupted, never expecting any person to make you feel so dirty, disgusting, yet so well-handled at the same time. You lust for more, to feel more as he smirks against your sex and reaches his open hand upwards to grab your breast. It feels plush and soft when he kneads it in between his fingers. Simply flicking his thumb over your sensitive nub sends shockwaves down to your core, and he surfaces with your cum dripping down his chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, briefly leaning upwards to catch your lips in his mouth. “Can you take more? That was just to warm you up. Are you ready for me?” he mumbles against your lips.

The taste of yourself sits prominently in his mouth. You can taste yourself as you exchange another kiss with him, slowly winding down from your high.

“I- I want to try more.” You hear yourself openly admitting while he leaves tiny pecks along your collarbone. “It felt good.”

“Just good?” He looks up at you in feigned confusion. “Come on honey, I didn’t fuck you dumb just yet. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to come up with better adjectives. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You gasp when he moves away from your cover to latch his lips around your nipple. “I cam- I think I came several times, but I’m still horny.” The last part comes out in a sort of whisper as if you’re afraid you would be caught by somebody if you ever admitted to being horny out loud.

“Mmm.” He groans with your tit in his mouth. “Mmf. Nothing wrong with being horny. And you did come. Several times…but are you ready to come more?”

“Yes.” You’re feeling more confident. “I’m ready for more.”

“Even if I have to tie you down?” He pushes himself up so he kneels in front of you. “I’m afraid your human body can’t take what I’m about to give you.”

“I want to try,” you reply. “‘All at once,’ remember?”

“Okay Angel.” He smiles, leaning over to put his hand behind your head to bring you upright. “All at once.”

Your face is so close to his body that you can smell the muskiness of his sex. Right in front of you is his member. It’s your first time seeing one this closely, red and stiff, and a tiny bead of precum that rolls off the tip. You wonder how it would feel in the palm of your hands, how you would be able to fit all of it in your mouth.

“Take a good look at it, Angel. Touch it or suck it if you want,” his voice is gentle yet mischievous. “Don’t be scared. I can guide you. Take your chances before I spend the rest of our time disappearing in your cunt.”

Hesitantly, you bring your lips closer to his tip, opening your mouth wide enough so your lips close around the head. It’s smooth like a cool cherry-flavored popsicle on a hot summer day, yet there’s a certain softness to the organ. You stare up at him with his head in your mouth, and he simply nods, thrusting forward a little to tell you that you can continue. 

A tiny lick causes him to flinch and then gasp, his eyes fluttering as you lick him again more confidently. He breathes out a groan when you place a hand on his waist while the other grabs his length. Closing your eyes, you hollow your cheeks and guide him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking as you go. 

And the raging and tantalizing ache in him can’t help but to grow and extend along his erection, growing hot in his stomach as he looks down at you trying your best to suck his dick. It makes him feral knowing that he’s your first - the first to corrupt you, to coat your thick and swollen lips with your saliva and his precum, and to watch you as you clench your thighs while sucking him off. Just thinking about your request and actually seeing you try to fit him in your mouth without gagging intoxicates him and makes his mind fuzzy. But before he can begin to process his dick hitting the cold air, he feels your mouth latch around one of his testicles, gently sucking while your hand kneads the other, and your other hand continues to pump him in your mouth’s absence. 

This time, he sees you wide-eyed and staring right at him. And when your eyes roll to the back of your head, he immediately snaps and spasms - shooting white liquid all over the bed sheets. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

Repositioning himself over your naked body, he wipes away a few splatter marks on your face and reapplies it to your open lips. It’s hard to concentrate on the new salty taste when the Devil is staring intently into your eyes while his hands roam your body, touching and flicking. 

He asks you about punishments for making him come without warning - something about how he should prolong your virginity, a concept that you wanted him to take away. 

…it’s just a social construct used to belittle others, the contract states. But if anybody is going to take it away, then it has to be the Devil himself. 

“This might hurt a little,” he tells you. 

Invisible ropes drag your hands above your head and tie your thighs to your bed. Making sure you’re secure Jeonghan quips, “In case you try to run away.”

You can barely see what he’s doing from your angle. His dick is slowly becoming hard again, so you think he’s going to eat you out in the meantime. But nothing can prepare you for what comes next. 

It feels cold and warm, a long tubular shape slowly digging and nudging itself into your cunt. Yet, you don’t feel the same wetness you felt when he stuck his tongue in your cunt. The figure pulls in and out, sliding and squelching with every thrust. Your mouth drops open, letting tiny soundless exhales fall out of your mouth. A burning sensation builds up at the bottom of your stomach, causing you to lurch and struggle against your binds. Jeonghan only chuckles from underneath you, his face shrouded by his hair. It’s only when he pushes deep, causing you to yell his name when you realize the object he pushes into you. 

What fucks your cunt in a steady rhythm is the same crimson red, elephant-tusk-like horn that sits on top of Jeonghan’s head. He slightly turns his head so the thick and curved object hits you in the right spot, causing you to struggle, moan, and breathe heavily. 

“What a twisted angel,” Jeonghan grunts. “You didn’t think I would be able to read your thoughts? You didn’t think the Devil would be able to listen in on every single dirty thought that came across that pretty little head of yours?”

“Fuck. P-please Jeonghan,” you whine through gritted teeth. “Want your dick.” 

“No.” His tone is flat. “I’m not horny yet. Hearing you whine and mewl about how good I make you feel ”

“N-No,” you manage to say. “Can’t wh-whine if you’re choking me.”

Your invitation causes him to immediately pull out of you, therefore causing you to lurch forward with a gasp and fall back down when you’re stopped by your binds. It’s a lot clearer now, his wet red horn and the hair matted down by your juices. Still, there is nothing that could make the man in front of you become an eyesore. 

He’s objectifyingly beautiful - now not as downright terrifying as you thought him to be. Your little push of confidence, although a bit passive, goes a long way as he bends down once again to catch you between his lips, kissing you feverishly as his left hand slowly works its way to loop around your neck. 

It’s a new feeling, feeling the pressure of his palm against your neck. The pressure is light - not how Jeonghan would’ve liked to choke you, but enough so the concept doesn’t scare you away. Gently squeezing the sides of your esophagus, Jeonghan removes his lips from yours so he can see you clearly. Chin lifted up and your eyes glossed over, you seem to him to be needier than ever. He watches you as your struggle against his invisible binds, hips thrusting in the air. 

“Please Jeonghan.” You struggle against his hand. “Please. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Please-”

“Beg.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I’m begging. Please.”

He adds a little more pressure around your esophagus, making you struggle and almost come on the spot. “More.”

“W-want t-to see your pre- ah fuck pretty face lose its beauty when you bend over me while fucking me hard. I want you to be mean to me and pull my hair so my back arches while you pound into me from behind. Make my thighs quiver and tremble as my knees go red. Use me until I’m left with nothing but tears.”

“I can make you cry.” He lets go of your throat, tsk-ing at the fading soft pink imprint left behind on your skin. “But not in the way you described…You’ll be leaking from somewhere else, Angel.”

You breathe his words in like an airy aphrodisiac, filling your lungs and clouding your brain with blissful jubilation. But the tears. The tears fall when he slowly pushes into you, cooing and soothing you while you cling onto him, fingernails digging red welts into his bare back while you struggle to adjust to his size. The stinging pain feels like no other, but fuck does it feel good to have him inside you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he bends over you and whispers in your ear, “Keep tightly clenching around me before I can properly fuck you and you’ll never be able to leave Hell. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, hissing when he pulls back.

Then he starts pushing slowly back into you, savoring how your walls etch and hug his ridges, savoring how your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in response to your pleasure. Another thrust, faster this time. He plagues you with need, making you practically fuck him yourself by angling your legs on the bed so you can push yourself into him over and over again. He pinches your nipple in anger, but it only sends a lewd string of pain straight to your core. You find it pleasurable, your nerves heightened to a new level. 

So he puts his hands around your waist and tells you his name again - because that’s the only thing you’ll remember after he’s done with you. 

He ruts into you over and over again, harshly and quickly. The only sounds filling your tiny bedroom are your hiccups that complement the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Your whole body jerks and rocks with every thrust, your bed no longer standing in the same place, now slightly askew. He doesn’t even give you time to recover when you cum on his cock, your belly tightening, releasing, and then tightening again in a matter of a few seconds. 

“Whore,” he sneers. “Look at you, all fucked out underneath me. You can’t help but come multiple times, can you?”

He rubs your clit while pounding into you, watching you writhe in pleasure underneath him, very well unable to respond to his rhetorical question. 

“And you want me to pound into you from behind?” He mockingly laughs out loud. “All that talk but you can’t even form a word. Form a word then. Try forming a word before I cum.” 

But another wave swells in your abdomen, causing you to jerk forward in reaction. Your body feels sweaty and sore, but the pleasure rolls in waves - building in you and ejecting out of you like a consistent ebb and flow. Every single bite, flick, and word that comes out of him only breaks you even more. And you topple like a house of cards, reduced to nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

He chases his own orgasm when he feels like it, pushing into you deeply and thrusting one last time by hitting your walls so he can slowly milk his seed as he rolls his hips. And when he pulls out, he watches his liquid slowly collect at your entrance, threatening to spill out. Your body still twitches in his absence, your aftershocks squeezing and making his seed drip and run out of you. 

Your eyes are blurry, body is sore with tiny cartoonish stars floating and rotating above your head. You can’t expect the Devil to stay. He had done enough for you, more than you could ever imagine. It takes everything in you to bring yourself to whisper his name one last time before you feel him leave your side. 

On the floor where you summoned him is an invitation to summon him again:

Whenever you’re ready. He writes. I’ll make you crawl. -YJH, The Devil

[samiiy20]

✩ 𝗞𝗶𝗺 𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗷𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗴 (𝐟𝐭. 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗦𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝘄𝗮) ✩

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Kim Hongjoong x fem! reader x Ex bf! Park Seonghwa 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗲: Smut 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.1k 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Threesome, unprotected sex (don't do it), jealousy, oral sex, eating cum, creampies. (I apologize if I forgot something) 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Hongjoong had a little surprise for you to enjoy the night, but you never expected it to include your ex-boyfriend.

N/A: First, I'm glad that this writing is the first fic of the year. Second, I can't stop watching the MV that these two released, so boom! I didn't sleep for two days thinking about this jsjsjs but I hope you like it <3

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

You had been dating Hongjoong for a while now, but it wasn't anything formal, you liked hanging out with him when you had nothing to do, he fulfilled your every whim without asking for anything in return, and the sex with him was fantastic. You felt comfortable without commitments, anyway you weren't looking for something serious with someone after the damage your ex left behind.

"You are busy? Are you busy?" You sighed looking at the mess in the kitchen and grabbed your phone before answering Hongjoong.

“No, actually I'm finishing eating but…”

“It tasted horrible?” A moan confirming his suspicions caused his laughter to be heard over the speaker. “Do you want to come?”

“I don't know, I have some things to do tomorrow and…”

“Please” think for a moment and before saying anything continue “Maybe we can enjoy dessert.”

You laughed a little because you knew what it meant but you were tired, maybe you deserved a break.

“But come for me.”

"Deal "

After almost an hour (enough time to clean up the mess in the kitchen and put on anything) Hongjoong was outside leaning against his car smoking a cigarette. When you approached him he smiled giving you a quick look up and down and you couldn't help but feel nervous.

“As beautiful as ever,” you rolled your eyes, snatching the cigarette from his fingers before taking a drag and smiling.

" you're a liar"

“Give me a kiss” You hit him in the chest and he took your hand, cornering you between the car and his body “just one.”

“It's never just one with you” he raised his shoulders smiling and you sighed before looking around and joining your lips in a quick kiss, but Hongjoong slid his hands along your waist until he reached your butt and squeezed it “Stop it, someone might see us.”

Hongjoong laughed and opened the door for you, he waited for you to get in before doing the same and starting the car. The whole way he was giving you looks and letting his hand rest on your thigh, caressing your skin a little, but it only made your body start to light a small flame inside you.

“Do you remember what you said the other day?”

"No"

“When were we in bed?”

“Joong says a lot of things and I forget half of them” actually you did remember, although you didn't know what he was referring to, you had said a couple of frustrated fantasies, but you were pretending not to, it was very embarrassing to accept it now that you were sane.

“Well, I have a surprise for you.”

“You know I don't like surprises,” you replied, crossing your arms when he turned off the car engine. Hongjoong turned to look at you and took your face in his hands.

“You might like this one” his words made you nervous but at the same time curiosity took over you.

Hongjoong was a person who liked to experiment, he was not closed to any idea and had even fulfilled a couple of your fantasies, he had taught you a few things that you didn't know you might like and you were eager to know what he had in store for you.

When they arrived at the apartment it seemed strange to you that the lights were on, but you didn't say anything and before you could question it he covered your eyes with his hands and placed a kiss on your neck.

“Don't do that… I can't see” you tried to remove his hands but his breath made your skin crawl, leaving you still.

“Shhh… let me guide you precious”

Your senses were turned off when he placed his lips on your neck and his tongue ran a path to your shoulder while he made you walk slowly forward. You let out a low moan as you felt his teeth dig into your skin.

"Are you ready?"

“No,” Hongjoong’s laughter echoed in your head and nerves tickled your entire body. Hongjoong's hands slowly discovered your eyes and as your vision adapted to the light again you could notice a strange figure in the place.

When you were finally able to see what it was, you froze. Of all the things you thought Hongjoong had prepared, you never imagined seeing your ex-boyfriend sitting calmly with a smile on his face. No, this had to be a fucking joke. You rubbed your eyes thinking you were hallucinating but he was still there.

“Seonghwa?”

“Hi doll,” your ex responded, widening his smile even more.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

"What is this? they know each other?" Hongjoong asked confused.

“No” you responded. “Yes” Seonghwa said at the same time.

You turned around heading towards the door but Hongjoong stood in your way.

“This was your surprise?” you asked angrily

“I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't even know they knew each other, I don't know who he is… well yes but…”

“Ahhh of all the people in the world you chose him?”

“I'm still here,” Seonghwa said, approaching you and you avoided seeing him.

“You…” you turned to where he was and put a finger on his chest, “how did you get here? Do you still want to continue ruining my life? "Isn't what you did enough for you?"

“I'm sorry, okay? I told you it was a misunderstanding but you never let me explain it.”

“Enough,” Hongjoong exclaimed, full of the whole situation. “I don't know what matters you have between you, but I think we should calm down.”

It took Hongjoong a while to convince you to stay and talk calmly while they clarified the situation, but although you finally gave in, you were uneasy with Seonghwa's presence. The three of them sat at the table and Hongjoong made them talk in turns. You sighed, threatening your ex with your eyes and told him your story.

“We were a couple a while ago…”

“Six months,” Seonghwa interrupted you.

“Anyway, we broke up, but that part wasn't very nice so I made my life and then I met you and blah blah blah, things happened and now I'm here, in front of this idiot.”

“Anything to say Seonghwa?” Your ex opened his mouth but denied before looking at you.

“How did you meet?”

“That doesn't matter to you,” you responded aggressively as you crossed your legs and looked away. “How did you two meet?”

"What difference does it make?"

“Stop it, you're both tiring me out.” Hongjoong dropped into the chair and sighed, looking at them both. He had no idea what trouble he'd gotten himself into just for wanting to have a little fun with his favorite people, but here he was having to put up with their complaints. “I met Seonghwa like I did with you okay?” at the bar, it was actually a week after you, you both vented about your problems but I never imagined they would talk about each other, I didn't even know they knew each other, I thought it was a good idea to bring him because I thought he was your type and you would enjoy more, but ahhhh I never imagined this”

You felt a little bad for Hongjoong, he just wanted to fulfill one more of your fantasies and ended up getting into a weird mess. You caressed his hand and without looking at your ex you stood up and hugged him from behind.

"It's not your fault"

“Yeah, whatever, don't feel bad,” Seonghwa said to help you, “she wouldn't be able to handle it anyway.”

You threatened Seonghwa with your look, you didn't want to talk to him but her words hurt your ego, you had been with both men before, you knew them better than anyone and you dared to say that you couldn't handle them? Who did he think he was?

"What do you mean?" The voice is more aggressive than you intended but Seonghwa's smile only made it harder for you to contain yourself “I can't handle you? I’ll show you, idiot.”

Without paying attention to your ex you climbed onto Hongjoong's lap and he held your hips before you could continue.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to.”

“I want” You responded before bringing his lips together as you pulled him into the most passionate kiss you had given him before, mixing your tongues and letting his teeth collide. Your hands passed over his chest and slowly went down to slide over the delicate shirt he was wearing.

"Is that all you have?" You rolled your eyes, separating yourself from Hongjoong and wiggling your hips in his lap while locking your gaze with Seonghwa who had stood near him. You grabbed him by the edge of his pants and made him take another step. Before he continued speaking, you raised your hand to reach the collar of his jacket and bring it closer to your mouth.

“You don't know when to shut up, right?” You felt Seonghwa's labored breathing on your lips and you noticed his dilated pupils. “Accept that you still like me, idiot.”

"And what?"

Your memories came back for a split second and you remembered the reason why you decided to break up with him, you were still angry for seeing him kiss your best friend but you had to accept that you still had feelings for him, the years at his side were something that You would never forget, how could you forget all that love, desire and passion that you felt every time you saw him. And now that they were face to face those feelings blossomed again.

“I hate you” you whispered before pulling him into your mouth and delving into his lips, they were just like you remembered them, sweet and fluffy.

Hongjoong had gotten lost in the feeling of your hips grinding against his clothed cock that he almost forgot about you. He dug into the crook of your neck leaving a red mark on his making you moan into Seonghwa's mouth causing your fingers to tangle through his long hair.

He broke away from the kiss, seeing your eyes full of lust when Hongjoong removed your shirt, freeing your breasts. “Come here,” he snatched you from the hungry mouth of his friend, tasting your skin.

Hongjoong laughed when he saw them and to think that a few minutes ago they didn't even want to see each other. He sighed, feeling the pressure in his pants as he watched them devour each other's mouths and their hands touching each other's bodies, peeling off the layers of clothing they were wearing until they were almost naked.

“Let's go to the room.”

When they finally closed the doors, you threw yourself at Hongjoong, also helping him to free himself from his clothes, leaving kisses along his neck and slowly going down his abdomen to the edge of his boxers, you pushed him on the bed and he smiled, settling in the center when he saw Seonghwa approaches from behind.

You settled between Hongjoong's legs, leaving his erection free of him as you gave Seonghwa a look as you spread your legs and raised your butt. You turned your attention to Hongjoong's dripping cock and ran your tongue over the tip of it before taking it into your mouth and hearing a muffled moan leave his chest.

You were so focused on sucking Hongjoong's cock that you almost forgot about your ex, but when he came up behind you and ran his fingers through your wet panties you closed your eyes before sucking his cock into your mouth again.

Seonghwa was so eager to have you again that he could barely keep his composure, even worse if you gave him a full view of your ass and wet pussy. It took strength from the depths of his being not to collapse at that moment and he slid your panties down to see your pussy, he moaned when he saw it up close again, he couldn't wait to taste the sweet nectar that he hadn't tasted in months.

He pressed his lips to your pussy and held your breath when you felt his tongue. Hongjoong shivered from the vibrations in your throat and didn't want you to stop so he grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head back onto his cock.

"I thought you could handle this" you gave yourself some time to breathe but when Seonghwa put two fingers in your pussy you could only moan in Hongjoong's face "are you enjoying it?"

You nodded, letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure that Seonghwa's fingers gave you while you continued moving his tongue in circles over your clit.

You approach Hongjoong's lips to stifle your moans but he grabs your hair, guiding you back to where you were.

Your movements were slow, you could feel your legs starting to shake and you couldn't continue holding the knot in your stomach. Seonghwa knew you were close to him so he continued pumping his fingers putting in a third while he licked your pussy.

Tears began to build up in your eyes but Hongjoong continued to push your head down when he felt a shock on his cock. You heard Seonghwa laugh behind you as he decided he wouldn't let you finish but you didn't have time to think about that as you felt Hongjoong's load in your throat and you tasted it.

Your tears spilled down your face when you could breathe and Hongjoong caressed your face, drying them.

"Poor dear, did you want to cum?" More tears fell from your eyes.

"yes…yes"

Seonghwa felt a pang in his chest when he saw his friend caress your hair and lay you down on the bed. He couldn't help but beat her to the spot and smile at her trying to apologize, but in reality he was jealous.

"Understand me, I haven't had it in a long time."

Hongjoong raised his hands and nodded, hiding the small anger that formed in his chest, yet he settled behind you, placing his chest on your back and gave Seonghwa a challenging look.

"All yours" he said mockingly knowing it was a lie.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but when he saw your naked body, jealousy took a backseat, now what he wanted was to feel you again and hear you moan his name.

He positioned himself between your legs and lined up his cock at your entrance watching your tearful face.

"You're very bad hwa" Seonghwa swallowed hard as he heard you tell him how before and he let go of the reins, letting yourself be carried away by you.

He sank inside and pressed you against Hongjoong's chest, you had forgotten how big he was but he made you moan feeling so full.

"I missed you, doll," he whispered to you as you got used to him again, tears still adorning your face and he wiped them away before bringing his lips together, tasting you on them.

“I…” your words stuck in your throat as he gave the first push “I didn't miss you”

"I don't need you to tell me, your body speaks for itself"

Seonghwa started to move his hips and you bit your lips when you felt Hongjoong's hands play with your nipples as he planted wet kisses along your neck, but Seonghwa bit your shoulder on the other side.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by all the sensations in your body, the boys' lips on your neck, Hongjoong's hands as they went down to your clit and Seonghwa's hips colliding with yours, your breathing uneven, your legs shaking, everything. It was too much that you couldn't take it anymore.

Without warning you released yourself onto Seonghwa's cock.

"Hwa…Fuck"

"Yes honey keeps saying my fucking name"

The overstimulation was killing you, you wanted to say something but you didn't know what, you just wanted it to never stop. You put your head on Hongjoong's shoulders trying to breathe but Seonghwa's thrusts were killing you.

"Come on beautiful, just a little more" his words did not comfort you but you nodded, letting him also move his hips behind you.

You moaned louder as you felt his fingers on your clit, you felt the tears in your eyes and you looked at Seonghwa when he approached your lips and you accepted it by placing your hands on his shoulders and marking his skin.

Seonghwa was close and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, he sank in a few more times before releasing his load and laying down on your chest, but Hongjoong continued to touch your sensitive clit making you wrap your legs around your ex's hips as you ran your nails down his back and let your head rest on Hongjoong's shoulder to kiss him when your second orgasm swept over you.

The three of you stood in silence recovering from the heat of the moment, you didn't know what had just happened but you didn't care, you had enjoyed it more than you would like to admit.

“Are you okay, beautiful?” You nodded without speaking and let go of Seonghwa's body, turning your back to him. With the little strength you had left, you climbed onto Hongjoong's cock and moved your hips slowly. “Aren't you tired?”

"i... want more"

Hongjoong lifted your hips and started pounding your pussy hard as he met Seonghwa's gaze. It was more than evident that he was resentful but it wasn't his problem for being an idiot, now he would have to see how he made you moan his name.

You wouldn't last long, but you tried hard to hold on to the knot in your stomach but it was getting stronger and your body was getting weaker with each stroke of Hongjoong's cock.

“Joong… I'm close.”

You lost track of reality when you felt the liquid from your body running down your thighs, you closed your eyes letting Hongjoong use your body for his pleasure and once he also freed himself he carefully laid you down on the bed and held your breath as you see how the mixture of the three ran through your used pussy.

Seonghwa licked his lips and without anyone telling him, he tasted the mixture, making your body react, but before he could continue, Hongjoong stopped him.

“Stop it, she's tired.” Seonghwa looked at him and suppressed the strange urge he had to push him and smiled. “You better go.”

"No"

They were both surprised but without saying anything Seonghwa lay down next to you and caressed your hair.

"You still miss me"

“Shut up idiot” you said smiling and extending your hand for Hongjoong to join in, he sighed before doing so and placing his hand on your waist “Thanks for the surprise Joong”

“Yeah, whatever, I hope you enjoyed it” You laughed a little before snuggling between them and taking a long rest.

[dat-town]

yours truly

Characters: fate!Sunghoon (prince of hearts) & mortal!female reader

Setting & genre: caravalverse au, fantasy, forbidden romance

Summary: “... ballads don’t end happily, and neither do the two of us.” ‒ Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Sunghoon’s character is canon-typically mean and flirty in the beginning, blood, dagger and arrow-caused injuries, mentions of people dying, ambiguous ending

Words: 2.9k

Playlist: moonstruck, criminal love, fatal trouble, still monster, lucifer, fate

Author’s note: for those who haven’t read the books, just imagine a world where deity-like creatures called fates walk among mere humans; for those who did read the books, imagine this as an alternative for the plot, the worldbuilding is the same but the actual romance plays out different since Sunghoon is NOT Jacks, just a different Prince of Hearts. i know personality-wise it’s very not Sunghoon-like but i chose him for visual reasons #theplot

for @restlessmaknae because you worked hard and i believe that you will see its results <3

The Prince of Hearts was exactly how the stories described him: devastatingly handsome and infuriatingly wicked.

The first time you met him, he just broke a naive girl’s heart.

The Prince of Hearts was the hopeless lovers’ Fate. Many turned to him to fulfill their hearts’ desire or get revenge on their unfaithful significant other but there was a reason why he had always been portrayed with bloody tears running down his sculpture-like face and his perfect lips pulled up in a cunning smirk.

“What did you do?” You heard the girl’s trembling, frightened cry over the garden fountain’s lovely bubbling sound and you could tell she didn’t notice you on the other side of the installment. She must have dragged the young man out of the celebration to have a word with him privately. Too bad it was your hiding place.

“Exactly what you asked from me. I made sure he can never look at another girl again,” the man replied in a silky smooth voice, his tone almost melodic. He must have sung lovely lullabies, you thought, but then he continued and his voice turned something dark, something poisoned and sickly amused. “Or at anything for that matter.”

There was a cruel laugh carried by the night breeze and your eyes widened, thoughts running wild.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” the girl protested weakly between sobs but no use, it didn’t seem to affect the man at all.

“Isn’t it? Then you should have asked more… precisely,” he scoffed and with a rustle of clothes you could tell he turned around, ready to leave.

“But… but I kept my side of the bargain. You are a Fate, you should keep your word, too!”

You sucked in a breath because you didn’t have to guess much to know which Fate she was talking about. There was an infamous one for broken hearts.

“Are you seriously accusing me of not fulfilling my part?” The Prince of Hearts spoke up again and this time you could hear anger bubbling up beneath the boredom in his tone. He spoke quietly yet every word of his punctured like bites of a viper. “You wanted your lover to not look at other girls, so I took his sight. Would you have preferred if I plunked his eyeballs out? Or even better, if I simply killed him? Is that it?”

The girl’s crying turned pathetic and you almost felt bad for her even if she should have known better than to make a deal like that. Fates tended to take more than what they had promised.

“Look at you, a sobbing mess. Is your great love really only enough for this? Will you leave him now that he’s blind? Who’s the unfaithful one now?” The ageless creature tsked, his harsh words enough to make the girl run, crying and devastated. The air was once again filled with silence and crickets chirping. Out of curiosity, you quietly stood up from where you sat in the fountain’s shadow but you could see nobody on the other side of the monument. You let out a small sigh, turning back around only to gasp in surprise.

Right in front of you, barely an arm-length away was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He had porcelain skin and elegant features, artfully tousled raven black hair and almond shaped eyes reflecting the moon. His mouth was pulled into a lopsided smile as he leaned closer, resting his hand on the fountain’s rim beside your waist.

“You know, I can hear your heartbeat, love,” he said, syrupy sweet, and you had to deliberately remind yourself to breathe properly. “It beats rapidly like a trapped bird’s wings. Is it because of fear or attraction? Both?” The Fate arched a brow, provoking.

“I’m not playing your game,” you raised your chin with more confidence that you actually felt in yourself but you didn’t back down, not even when the young man’s eyes burned through you.

“Too bad. I didn’t even tell you the rules yet,” he pouted but he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Are all Fates this bored?”

“There’s a better question, love; are all Fates forgiving towards this blunt attitude of yours?” The Prince of Hearts raised a brow, challenging, his breath fanning over your cheek, his closeness painting it a rosy color. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you and your rabbit of a heart wished nothing but to run. Then he abruptly pulled away, his frown melting into an all too sweet smile.  “But see, I’m a gentleman and I will let it go. For now.”

The threat was clear in his velvet voice and the shine of his midnight dark eyes. It took your breath away and you only let out the air you were holding in when he walked out of sight, your heart still beating crazily as you watched him disappear like smoke in the dark.

The next time you met him, you were smarter than to walk into his trap. This time you were actually looking for him because you were about to do what you had never imagined yourself to: gamble for a Fate’s help.

But really, this was your last resort. No matter how many reasons and proofs you had listed, your best friend was dead set on marrying a duke with no land and no morals. He just wanted her for her family’s money but she didn’t believe you. She even told you that if you weren’t happy for her, you weren’t welcome at the wedding. So you had to make sure the wedding didn’t happen, that she realized that her fiancé was a selfish bastard. It was the perfect kind of job for the Prince of Hearts since he seemed to hate other people’s happiness. No wonder even his Destiny Deck card’s meaning was unrequited love and irrevocable mistakes.

As you opened the church's gate, your sister’s voice echoed in your ears. She had told you not to make deals with Fates but if you must, always make sure to double guess the meaning behind their words and not let them have leverage over you. She had known after having her own deal with the Jester Mad. Fates weren’t evil nor saints but as ageless deities, they had different moral compasses than mere mortals. They also lived a long, long life, so what could have been more fun for them than playing with human feelings?

Back in the days, Fates had been private creatures hidden from plain sight. People had built churches and altars for them, waiting for their miracles to happen. But then one day, the Fates disappeared. Nobody knew why or where. There were countless rumors but it didn’t matter because eventually they returned and they weren’t hiding anymore. The Poisonmaker kept wreaking havoc at events where drinking was involved, the Maiden Death started warning people about their loved ones’ dying in the middle of the main square and the Prince of Hearts had heads turning at every noble gathering pretty much in the entire country based on the rumors. Whispers followed his trail, so you knew exactly where to find him.

“Looks like wind blew a little birdie my way,” you heard the familiar smooth voice from behind you once you dropped your golden coins into the well inside the old marble church. You spun around, facing the Fate and you hated the instant effect he had on you. The way his mere presence was enough to weaken you. You tried focusing on the tiniest details on his face to keep yourself grounded like the moles adorning his cheeks, his defined eyebrows or the way the skin around his pretty eyes wrinkled when his mouth pulled into an amused smile. Your heart was a traitor once again.

“Missed me?” He teased, further decreasing the distance between you. He didn’t even touch you yet his closeness set the air around you on fire and you desperately tried to find purchase on the edge of the well, your well kept nails digging into the stone.

“I have a favor to ask,” you forced out and recited the entire monologue you had practiced with all the details in order to make sure there was no loophole in your request. You couldn’t have your best friend getting hurt because of you. You just wanted to get rid of her fiancé subtly. So you came prepared and judging by the almost impressed look on the Fate’s face and the pondering tilt of his head, he must have noticed too.

“Oh, you’re actually a smart one,” he mused out loud, a chuckle escaping him. “It sounds exactly like my kind of fun but you don’t think I’m doing it without a price, right? So are you ready to pay, love?”

You expected it, of course, there was always a price to pay. A bargain with both parties committing to something. You thought you were ready for anything the Prince of Hearts could ask of you: your reputation tarnished, memories of your first love destroyed, cursing you to never love again but maybe you were naive. Because in that moment he looked at you hungrily, eyes dark and tempting. He darted out his tongue, wetting his lips as he angled his face over yours, still not even grazing against your skin, yet you could feel yourself shiver.

For a moment you were sure he would kiss you. That he would kill you.

Because the thing with Fates was that all of them were cursed in one way or another. As for the Prince of Hearts, his kiss was fatal to all but his one true love. They said it was worth dying for and so many naive girls wanted to be the one to break this hex, he left a trail of corpses behind him.

“Not yet, love,” the Fate taunted as he swiped his thumb across your lower lip, leaving tingles behind, and you felt incredibly embarrassed for thinking he would actually kiss you. Gosh, you weren’t normally like this.

“What do you want?” You found your voice after pushing the silently laughing man away from you. You needed space, you needed to focus. You came to save your best friend’s future, not to kiss murderers no matter how much they erupted a garden of butterflies in your stomach.

“Let me be your plus one for the wedding and I promise to make sure your precious friend realizes her mistake before tying the knot. No bodily harm, no future consequences, yadda yadda,” the Prince of Hearts mocked your way of negotiating your conditions and you squinted your eyes because it sounded too good to be true.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he flashed you a charming smile before leaning in close again, this time his breath fanning over your ears, teeth grazing against your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. “Oh and call me Sunghoon.”

The Prince of Hearts kept his word and you started to wonder whether he wanted to accompany you to the wedding because he wanted to see the drama he caused in person. He seemed rather amused when both the duke’s creditors and mistresses showed up and your best friend threw a vase at him.

It was naive of you to think so though, of course the Fate came on his own accord for his own ulterior motives. You didn’t even know that the infamous Witch of North, holder of the Fated object of the Unbitten Fruit, would be at the wedding but Sunghoon sure knew. He disappeared from sight in the middle of the chaos and you could only find him after calming your best friend down. The wedding hall was empty and broken into pieces and in the middle of it all, surrounded by blackened rose petals, there he laid like a beautiful fallen angel. His white shirt was snug over his broad shoulders and where his wings would have laid, blood spread like wine on tragic days.

“Oh my fates,” you mumbled as you rushed to his side.

Fates had once been immortals but even since their re-appearance, they were merely ageless and could be killed and while you shouldn’t have cared, something didn’t let you let him bleed out. Maybe it was because he just helped your friend like he had promised or because you had always been weak for the helpless ones even if the Fate was nothing but one.

“What happened?” You asked with trembling lips, pressing a torn piece of your skirt onto the bleeding wound on his side.

“Somebody wasn’t too happy that I said hello,” Sunghoon croaked a smile, still all too arrogant even with blood on his lips and pain on his features when his own laughter made him hiss.

“Do you have many enemies?”

“Enemies is all I have,” he said, reaching for the buttons of his blood-soaked shirt to get rid of it and you could feel your face flush at the sudden exposure of bare skin and toned stomach. But trust the Prince of Hearts to tease you even in his stabbed state. “No need to be so shy, love, you can look.”

You cleared your throat and hardened your gaze, looking him in the eye, unwavering. You accidentally applied a bit more pressure on his injury though because his face suddenly distorted in agony.

“Actually, there’s a vial in my front pocket. Would you be kind enough to pour its content on the wound?” He spoke up again, softer, a bit of breathlessness in his usually smooth voice and if it wasn’t for that, you would have believed he was still teasing.

But you actually found a potion in his pocket and once the liquid contacted his torn skin, it started healing at an amazing speed. Oh, so he came prepared, you realized and it made you smack his chest hard. He made you worry for nothing. So stupid of you.

Sunghoon caught your wrist and pulled it over his unbeaten heart, laughing at you. You should have been angry and yet, it was the most beautiful chime of bells you had ever heard.

That should have been the last time you saw the Prince of Hearts but he kept showing up. He kept bothering you at balls, scaring away suitors, stealing apples at the market you had to pay for. He found your reluctance and annoyance amusing, poking fun at the way your heartbeat spiked in his company. He put flowers in your hair, called you love like he meant it and touched you briefly only to make you crave more. You thought it was all just a joke for him because he was bored and you weren’t as easy as the other girls but then you were bleeding out and he looked ready to burn the whole world down.

It was a typical case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were just in the way. It wasn’t meant for you but the arrow pierced through your chest nevertheless.

You coughed up blood, barely catching your breath, when Sunghoon caught you in his arms before you could have fallen onto the flower bed beneath. Deliriously you looked up at him in wonder, at Death’s most beautiful angel. 

“You’re not dying,” he told you through gritted teeth but his voice was torn, feelings you didn’t recognise scratching the surface.

“They say you can’t feel, not because you have no heart but because it stopped beating long ago. Is it true?” You forced out weakly as you put a hand over Sunghoon’s chest just over where his heart was still as always. “I wonder what kind of girl it was, the one who broke your heart.”

All Fates were humans once and their assigned traits and powers were aligned with how they had been once as mortals. It was silly but you couldn’t help being jealous of the girl who had once held his affection because the way he looked at you then made you feel like nothing else mattered to him but you.

You knew that Fates felt everything in extremes. They didn’t hold grudges, they took revenge. They didn’t know love, they only knew obsession. Yet so many made the mistake of falling in love with a Fate and you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame them. Not anymore. Not when the Prince of Hearts’ hands were stained with your blood but you wanted nothing more than to succumb to this overwhelming feeling of being held by him.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, feeling faint. You were dying anyways, it couldn’t have hurt more to try. Because what if it was true, what if true love’s kiss could cure all curses, what if he had been looking for you all this time?

“Love…” Sunghoon’s voice was ruined. It was just a word yet a plea at the same time. A simple word you associated with your name ever since you had first met him.

His eyes shining like bright stars in the night sky were the last thing you saw before your eyelids fluttered close. Tears streamed down your face or blood, you couldn’t tell, but the lips on yours tasted metallic like iron and the sweet taste of the forbidden fruit. Like sin and redemption at the same time. Like you were his in this fairytale and he was yours. Yours truly.

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

The Witches Vow

Summary: A witch's vow is dangerous, and not to be taken lightly. Not even death can break a witch's vow, if the witch cannot make good on their vow their soul will never find peace. I knew this, but when Taehyung, my dearest friend, is sold to a man with evil in his soul, I make a frantic witch's vow to find him. Little did I know that when I finally got reunited with Taehyung, it would only be the start of it all. 

  Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x Fem!WitchReader 

  Themes: Found Family, Poly Relationship, Hurt and Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Hybrid AU, Fantasy, Supernatural, Magic 

  Warnings: Hurt, Angst, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Injury and Hurt, Witchcraft and magic, hybrids being pets, eventual smut,

  Rating: 18+ 

Notes: This is the revamped version of my original post. If you have read the first version of this, you will find that is very different. I will be keeping the original version of chapter one up. I hope you all enjoy this and my world.

  Characters: 

Jin: Amur Leopard 

Yoongi: Black Tiger 

Hoseok: Lynx 

Namjoon: Arctic Wolf 

Jimin: Arctic Fox 

Taehyung: Snow Leopard 

Jungkook: Red Fox 

Ryoko: Reader/Witch 

Chapter One 

    Summer of 2002 

   “A witch’s vow is a dangerous thing my darling. It can not be broken, even by death. Once made, it needs to be fulfilled, if it’s not even in death the witch will never find peace. The witch will be stuck attempting to fulfill their end of the vow forever. I tell you this because a witch’s vow is easy to do. You merely state your name, followed by your vow. So let's say, if you vow to protect someone, you will spend the rest of your life doing nothing but protecting them.” Mama said as she kneaded the bread before her. I sat at the island taking notes of what she said. I started to ask a question when I heard the scream that ran out from outside.

   “HELP ME!” Taehyung screamed, his voice coming in from the garden. I jumped off the stool and ran towards the door, ignoring my parents telling me to stay back. I race down the gravel drive just in time to see Taehyung, the little snow leopard that is my dearest friend, being dragged by the back of his shirt towards a black van.  

  “LET HIM GO!” I screamed throwing a rock at the man as I kept running. Behind me I can hear my mother calling out at Taehyung’s father, demanding an explanation as my father screamed for me to stop.  “YOU LET HIM GO YOU BAD MAN!” I cried as I began to hit the man. 

  “Get away from me.” He snapped, in the face as he threw me backwards and away from him. A loud snarl echoed from Taehyung as he tried to get to me. Before he could though my father was there, his hand wrapping around the man’s thick wrist, twisting it until it snapped. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

  “You are going to be lucky to walk away with a broken wrist after you hit my daughter. I can’t save Taehyung from you, but I swear to god I will end you if you touch her again.” My father said sternly, his voice terrifying even to me.  

    “Save Tae Daddy!” I screamed, ignoring the pain in my jaw from the words. 

  “There isn’t anything we can do petal, his dad signed away his ownership of him. Legally, this man now owns Taehyung.”  

   “Then, then!” I stammered before my eyes widened. “I RYOKO MAKE THIS WITCH’S VOW! I WILL SAVE YOU TAEHYUNG!” 

    “If that little bitch comes anywhere near…”

   “So long as you never hurt him, the vow will never be fulfilled and she will never be a problem to you.” Dad snarls. “So long as you keep this boy from harm, you will never see my daughter again.” 

   “For her sake, she had better hope not. You have done enough.” He threw Taehyung into his car, ignoring my screams and his cries as I was pulled back to the house. 

   For the next two weeks, I was left alone, without my friend, too sad to move from my bedroom. For those two weeks, I did nothing but worry about my friend. Then, exactly two weeks after he was taken, I was awoken to a pain in my wrist and the first vision. Taehyung was in danger and I was meant to be to save him. 

   Present Day 

     The barn was old, but in good enough condition that it could be trusted to hold the eight snarling hybrids. The stalls had been removed, eight large cages were left in their wake. Inside each held a hybrid who was clearly underfed, each one covered in wounds. My heart broke at how defeated the poor dears looked, their fear clouding their eyes. Thick chains were wrapped around the necks, linking them to the barn. My gaze was locked on the snow leopard, his soft brown eyes half closed as he seemed to stare at me. Seeing the fear in my best friend's eyes broke my heart. While I knew he couldn’t see me, or even hear me, I moved towards the cage, kneeling in front of it. 

   “I’m still trying Tae, I promise. I am still looking for you and I think I am getting close.” I whispered, placing my hand against the bars. As it always did, it slid through the bars, my hand half see-through. I always hated these visions, then ones where I could get so close to him yet still be unable to save him. He lifted his head, warm hazel eyes meeting mine. At least, they seemed to meet mine. 

  “He’s coming.” A soft, female voice whispered from the cage beside Taehyung, red and white foxed ears pinned back at the sound. At her words, the rest of the hybrids let out low snarls that rippled through the air. I closed my eyes, feeling the tug of the magic pulling me back. Once again, I turned my eyes back on Taehyung, even though I knew that the sight of terror-filled eyes would haunt me until I finally found him. 

   “Tell me again why you don’t just go and walk outside?” Analeia asked again, her green eyes flickering over me as she waited for my response. I had answered the question before, several times since I had befriended the banshee. Her light brown hair with blue streaks fell into her face as she tilted her head to study me. 

  “It’s not that easy. I would love nothing more than to do just that, but I can’t. I tried the first three times I had the visions, but I was sent back into wherever they were being held at the time. Mom thinks it’s because he is cloaking the location. He knows what I am and that the vow is now in place. She thinks that’s why he is also constantly moving locations, to make it harder to find him.” I explained, doing my best to keep my annoyance from coating my tone. I know she’s frustrated, we all are. It’s been hard trying to find Taehyung, for years we have been close only to be thrown back to square one. It was like he knew when we were getting close.  

  “He’s using a cloaking spell with an alarm,” Aera said suddenly, disbelief written on her face that it had taken us this long to figure it out. “Think about it, it’s the only thing that makes sense. We have gotten so close only to show up and find out we were hours late. How else would they be able to do that without using a cloaking alarm? My guess is probably one that alerts him when we get his location. If we can find a way around the spell then we can get to Taehyung.” For the first time in a long time, my cousin looked excited, no doubt at the challenge she just discovered. The fire fae was never happy when faced with a challenge. 

   “What about the other hybrids? Do we know how we are going to save them legally?” Nakiya asked, leaning forward with a look of concern on her face. Letting out a sigh I looked towards Analia, as the only one working in law among us it was her job to find an answer. The last thing we needed was for the ass to show up and legally take them all back. 

  “I found the answer to that this morning! So, thanks to the vow Mrs Thing made, we know for a fact that Taehyung is not only in constant danger but being abused and neglected too. That gives us our in. You see if someone believes a supernatural being is being abused and or neglected by their own, then they can legally remove them and take over emergency ownership. We will have to go to court to prove it, but with their state, no judge will return them to him.” Analia seemed confident and that was enough for me. Shooting her a relieved smile that we now had that answered, we began to try and figure out the next problem. How to find them. 

  Taehyung’s P.O.V 

    It wasn’t the first time Taehyung had thought he had seen an older version of Ryoko staring back at him. Gone was the softness of childhood and in its place is the beauty of a young woman. All soft skin and proud high cheekbones. She looked how he had always thought of her, the only difference was the concern in her deep eyes. The fear and pity that lingered in the eyes that he had once known better than his own. 

   He did not doubt that it was a product of listening to David rant about how he was remaining three steps ahead of the young witch that started the random hallucinations of his childhood friend. He had spent more time than he could count wishing Ryoko was looking for him, that she hadn’t forgotten a vow made to a terrified young boy. In the years since he had come to accept that she had most likely forgotten it, that a hybrid was no longer a priority to her. He couldn’t blame her, he was a hybrid, nothing more than a pet to most of the world. That knowledge though, didn’t help ease the hurt in his chest whenever he thought of it. 

  So instead he kept his eyes on the only version of her he was likely to get, the version his mind conjured when he was tired or hurt. Today it had been a mix of both, but her whispered words of finding him sparked a small amount of hope in his heart that he hated. The last thing he needed was to feel that useless spark of hope. The sounds of footsteps approaching the farm caused his ears to twitch towards the door, his eyes still lingering on the girl before him. As the door opened, she turned and he took the opportunity to turn as well. Seeing David standing in the doorway, as proud as he always has been, caused him to hold back a snarl. He knew letting that out would only end in more pain than he cared to face at the moment. 

  “I decided to two kill two birds with one stone. The cost of the witch I need to keep your stupid little witch off my back has gotten to be too much. So, I am getting rid of you. The little bitch can have you, so long as you tell her that it's not worth coming after me anymore.” As he spoke, he threw open the door to the cage, reaching in and pulling Taehyung out a little more roughly than needed.

   “Let him go!” Namjoon snarled, the wolf hybrid gripping the bars of his cage. They had become a little pack in the years of them all being together and Namjoon had easily taken up the role of Alpha. Taehyung knew the sight of him being pulled away, never to be seen again, would be something the alpha would never forget or forgive himself for. 

  “I can’t afford the protection to keep his stupid little witch away anymore. So it’s either she goes back to him or I kill him. Pick.” 

  “Taehyung, I will find you,” Namjoon promised another vow that Taehyung knew he would never be held up. 

   “Take care of the others,” Taehyung whispered before he was outside for the first time in a long time. A sharp poke in his neck caused him to fall limp. 

   Reader P.O.V 

     “Tell me again about this vision?” Aera asked the following morning, the steam from her cup swirling up around her face. I looked over at her, a small smile on her face. “Just humour me.” 

   “Alright,” I said as I began to go over everything in the vision, knowing by now to leave out even a single detail. As I told her about how I felt like Taehyung could see me, she leaned forward, her silent way of telling me to explain more. “I am sure it’s hope, but I swear he was meeting my gaze. It wasn’t the first time either that I felt like he could see me, but this time was different. This time I swore he actually met my gaze.”

   “That is strange. In all of the years of you having visions, you never felt like he could suddenly see you.” Aera spoke slowly, her brows pinched together above her crimson eyes. I started to say something when a loud knock echoed through the house. I frowned, my eyes locked on her before I moved to the front of the house. 

   “Aera are you expecting anyone?” I asked as I paused by the door, my hands resting on the doorknob.  

   “No. It could be one of the girls though.” She said with a small shrug. I chuckled as I opened the door, completely expecting to see one of the girls. Instead, I was met with a snow leopard curled up on my doormat, a leopard I knew better than anything else. 

   “Tae!” I screamed, looking around frantically before I jumped over, Aera and I leaning down together to carry the furry little bundle into the house. “We need to call Nkiya, he needs a doctor.” I cried as we carried inside, taking him to the first bedroom of the downstairs floor and laying him carefully onto the bed. 

   “I’ll call her,” Aera said as she hurried out. “Do what you can!” 

  “Like I wasn’t going to already!” I muttered as the fae ran out of the room, my hands slowly moving over the soft white and black coloured fur. I started to heal everything I could, hoping to take just enough of his pain as I started to get him to shift. Slowly he began to shift and suddenly I was facing a shirtless and malnourished man. He blinks slowly, his eyes turning to me. 

   “Save them. Save the pack.” He whispered before falling back into sleep.

[savagewildnerness]

I’ve been thinking on Gabrielle elsewhere & I thought we could discuss her here? I’m curious regarding everyone’s thoughts on her & feelings towards her!

I find her desire to be in nature & shun humans very relatable & also, likely, the true secret to surviving immortality. Also, I’m sure 100% of us born female can in some way relate to Gabrielle’s experience. And imagine how much worse her experience of being born female must have been in the 1700’s. What a claustrophobic thought! I don’t know how I: someone who has never dated or loved could have survived back then!?

But her coldness, I find so difficult: to Lestat, who she says she loves & who she does sometimes show love to… in a way I find her way more damaging to Lestat than his Father & brothers, who simply hate him. At least Lestat knows where he is with them. Gabrielle intermittently offers Lestat love & hope… but only ever on her terms…. And then she pulls away to the TRUE opposite of love. Which is not hate. It is indifference. It feels to me like at least 90% of the time, Gabrielle is indifferent to Lestat. What could be more loveless than that? Yet he loves her, like a little donkey, reaching for the carrot of her love. And she kind of keeps him dependent on only that love too. Lestat has nowhere else to feel love from… at least until his Mastiffs.

Gabrielle disconcerts me even when she listens to Lestat in crisis. Again, sometimes she shows love. But often she treats Lestat like an interesting work of art… he is interesting to her for as long as she gets some interesting artistic fulfilment from what he says. But she as often responds with her own experience or merely leaves him be & withdraws again as that she offers comfort, I feel.

Then, when she is turned a vampire, I suppose it’s unsurprising, given who she is that Gabrielle feels zero empathy towards any human anymore. But it’s truly terrifying to me.

And in the end, I just can’t forgive Gabrielle for not teaching child-Lestat to read, as a voracious reader herself. It would have taken so little time & she would have gifted him worlds. But no: she could only ever offer Lestat a thing money could buy, for him to work out entirely alone. Rarely ever love.

I know Lestat loves Gabrielle, but I don’t think what Gabrielle feels towards Lestat is love. I wonder if maybe she even envies him in part, because he is a boy & that could influence some of the ways in which she denies him? Of course, she also admits she keeps Lestat trapped at home as surely as his Father & brothers, so perhaps Gabrielle never teaching Lestat to read isn’t her ignoring or not noticing his needs & desires, but rather acquiescing to her own: Gabrielle doesn’t want her son to be literate as it could be a means for him to escape his home & then she would be entirely alone?

There are such complex dynamics. And I’ve not even touched on how Gabrielle shares her sexual fantasies with her teenaged son yet…

Of course, it’s clear in part Gabrielle has postnatal depression, in how she feels nothing towards any of her children (& we must remember that Lestat’s surviving brothers were certainly loved even less by Gabrielle.) And poor Gabrielle was trapped from a young age in a loveless marriage, without hope in a way that is so different to 2024, yet was so common 250 years ago (almost Universal?) that we can imagine… but it is only imagining…

But still, I have such complicated thoughts towards Gabrielle. On the one hand, I find her so relatable & I find her withdrawal from humanity relatable too… but that’s from my perspective as someone with few humans in my life. I deeply do care about the few humans that aren my life! But her coldness & lack of empathy - honestly, it makes me feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering over an infinite void! I find it terrifying, unsettling, deeply disturbing.

I want to do a poll, but I’m unsure the question… let’s see… (also note, I haven’t fully discussed gender… I refer to her as “her” here, as she is in the books, but I think she is likelier to not be “her” in the show, at least in modern day, which I’m really looking forward to how she is written & portrayed.)

I am fascinated to experience her TV self, but I have such complicated feelings towards Gabrielle.

[ilikekidsshows]

Am I jumping to far if I call Marinette a psychopath? I mean she uses people as she please for her own benefit, she seems to has no remorse, no conscience, egocentric, impulsive and well, she could be charming I suppose, especially to Cat Noir. Idk what else to call the combi of those trait if not psychopathy🤷‍♀️

---

I don’t think we should be pathologizing selfish behavior. Marinette is selfish and spoiled, and she is being written with the awareness that she’s a wish-fulfillment protagonist. Marinette is a bad example of one, but it’s not exactly comparable with an actual neuropsychological condition, for all the writers tried to use: “she’s traumatized!” as an excuse for some of her actions. This writing direction affects the rest of the cast too, and not just Marinette. The sympathetic characters validate Marinette's behavior almost constantly and any actual criticism Marinette faces in universe is nothing more than friendly ribbing with no expectation to act better attached.

I’d say Marinette is Kirito For Girls, but, like, even Kirito isn’t as selfish as her. Marinette has more in common with the current ilk of the wish-fulfillment isekai protagonists, like Naofumi from The Rising of the Shield Hero, or any other isekai series with similar trappings. The thing about this kind of protagonist is that their actions are basically justified by the protagonist being in another world, where they obviously need to do whatever it takes to survive. Usually these worlds will be made hostile in some way, the nominal hero humiliated and brought low by those in power before he can rise in power and get revenge on them all and win all the girls’ eternal devotion.

We’re meant to cheer for whatever nonsense these characters get up to, because they’re the only real/good humans in these fantasy settings, with everyone else being an NPC in a video game, or every other character in any position of power is the most over the top, ridiculous example of human garbage. The thing is that, as paper thin as these justifications end up being, they’re still something that gives the audience an excuse to root for the hero and enjoy the power fantasy. Even when the protagonist isn’t too sympathetic, the people around them are so much worse that the hero comes across as the better person.

But here’s the reason why Marinette can’t even manage the bare bones of rootability that modern isekai protagonists have; Marinette lacks their justifications. Marinette lives in the real world, she is the most popular girl in school, she has loving parents and caring friends and she’s the “greatest Ladybug ever” and all her “bullies” are ineffectual losers who never really bring her down outside of the almost never shown backstory. Marinette doesn’t get treated badly to justify her rise to power to stop herself from being hurt again (for all ‘Derision’ tries to prove otherwise), her world isn’t filled with awful or stupid people who can’t be trusted with power so Marinette has to take all the power for her own. We’re supposed to root for Marinette just because she’s the protagonist or we're supposed to not root for other characters, not because they've done anything wrong, but because they are not Marinette.

Basically, Marinette is the way she is because the writers view only her as a proper character instead of merely a prop and they write the series with this approach in mind. Marinette exists in a world where everyone else is a puppet dancing to her benefit, either to praise her or to make her look good when she defeats them. With this core concept in mind, of course she isn't going to feel empathy towards what basically amounts to toys. However, this creates the conundrum of: ensemble cast shows tend to have audiences with different favorite characters, Miraculous itself got a lot of praise for the five hero team we saw at the end of season two, yet post-retool Miraculous is telling us we should only care about Marinette, meaning they’ve trashed one of the draws for this show. The attitude of the writers seems to be the exact thing I brought up when discussing how even some of the toy lines are now ignoring that the rest of the cast even exists: “If you like any hero other than Marinette, fuck you, you stupid kids!”

The Marinette problem is so all-encompassing that it affects other characters and even merchandise, so it's very hard to explain with any in-universe explanation.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

( i wish i could be everything for you. family, home, watchtower, lighthouse. i am sorry for every way i've ever hurt you, including this. )

chara : clive rosfield fandom : final fantasy 16 quote cr : mabel podcast a/n : ngl someone may have forgotten some of the plot in ff16. not me though

── IT WAS ONCE SAID THAT THERE ARE THREE UNIVERSAL TRUTHS IN THIS WORLD :

ONE : GRIEF IS A DEAD MAN WALKING. it will overcome you, destroy you, devour you, drown you beneath the waves of sorrow. IT WILL HURT. it always will. but it is ultimately you who deems your survival. do not forget that.

TWO : YOU WILL KNOW LONELINESS LIKE IT IS YOUR DEEPEST COMPANION. you will find familiarity with the emptiness, and it will turn into nostalgia turned to mourning twisted into an anguish. in the end, you won't know the difference between friend or foe in the coexistence of your own solitude.

THREE : THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD IS A TERRIBLY HEAVY THING, DEAREST. make sure you do not carry it alone.

it is almost amusing, you think, gaze boring into the dying embers before you, how convenient it is to forget said truths. how it slips from the mind in the most foolish of times when the truth is spoken to you ; how obnoxiously it echoes into memory when you speak of it to someone as means of lessons learned.

the truth is a very miserable thing sometimes, this sobering reminder of humanity, but it is also something so excruciatingly tender.

you shiver. the air is cold and unwelcoming. the embers burn bright, then nearly fade into nothingness : a distant flux and flow, the reignition of something that wants to survive.

what a profound sight it is, clive thinks, almost breathless at your beauty beneath the moonlight, it is a mere glimpse to the serenity that settles in the depths of your heart, almost forgotten, and in the weariness of your features, it serves as something hopeful. you must be searching for a shooting star ; you always are, and maybe he's searching for one tonight, too. how lucky you would both be if granted a wish fulfilled. perhaps it would spare you from the pain to come on this endless journey, this path to redemption and salvation.

he looks to the sky, too, hopes to remember this moment for a long while, this time in which you find repose beneath the stars.

it is not long before you feel him shift beside you, his hands gentle as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders. you do not say anything, but you smile in silent thanks, and he wonders how he can do this. how he can say this. the destruction of oneself is much easier than the destruction of another. he returns the smile, but it does not reach his eyes, and you know that something is wrong.

he averts his gaze, focuses on the fire. dying, dying, dead. fire is such a horrific being, he has learned, and what a tragic way he has discovered it so. how it burns and burns, consuming everything in its path. it is ruthless in nature-- a terror that seizes anything it can, burning it into damnation and ruin until there is nothing but ashes meant to be forgotten.

such fire runs in his blood, and with it, a quiet violence. he does not know why, doesn't know how, and he begs the question to the divine a thousand times over. there is no answer. there never is, never will be. the only thing he knows is that there is blood on his hands, and he cannot afford to shed yours. he will not.

even if it means going your separate ways, even if he means breaking your heart, even if it means carrying out an act of betrayal to the trust that has bound you to each other.

"i..." he cannot even bring himself to speak. what a coward he is. "there is something i wish to discuss with you."

you still look to the sky. the subtle curve of your lips does not falter, even with the words he does not expect to hear.

"you plan to leave, don't you?" you wonder if there is a shooting star somewhere out there, wonder if it will be kind enough to visit in times of despair. "you think this is all your fault, that you were the one who killed what you thought to be most precious."

the smile has faded. your gaze shifts to the ashes, then to him, seeing that heartache in those blue eyes. something feels like it's tightening around your throat. you suspect it is grief. you speak again, anyway.

"you think... that your existence should be void, that you should be punished for what you believe you did. that if you stay-- if you stay here, if you stay with me, then it'll happen all over again."

he does not speak for a long while. what can you even say to that? how can he tell you that you're right, that he's afraid he could hurt you to the point of no return and not know it? that he's going to leave you because he loves you?

you turn towards him, your hands reaching for his. your hold is tender, careful, but he feels the way you tremble ever so slightly. it is his fault.

"the things i've done back then--" he pauses, uncertainty in his eyes, a grief of some sort, "i didn't know it was me. i thought i had been chasing after the one responsible for my pain, but i've been chasing a ghost all along." his hands squeeze yours, and maybe they're shaking, too. "i failed my duty. there's only one path that lies ahead of me, and that is one where you are safe."

he doesn't know what to expect-- your anger, your fury. that's what he almost wants, because it is much easier to end things that way. but he doesn't expect your expression to soften, doesn't expect to feel the way your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing over his scar. he is already on the verge of break, but this may be the one thing that pushes him over the edge, and a sorrowful smile finds its way to your lips at the tears that threaten to trail down his face.

"you don't want to go, clive." your voice is barely above a whisper, quiet, almost forgotten in the wind.

no, he doesn't. he doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to leave you, doesn't want to lose you. he wants to stay. he wants to think that there's hope somewhere, but the truth of it all is that there's just not.

"no, i don't." he places his hand over yours, instinctively leans into your touch. "i don't."

"so stay. stay with me. i know you are in despair. i know. but the truth runs deeper than any of us suspect. you can't give up, not yet." this time, your voice almost breaks. you lean forward, your forehead pressed against his. you are afraid to speak. "we are not meant for solitude, you know. the path you take is the only one i know. i will not leave you, clive. not now, not ever."

he doesn't--

he feels his heart waver, feels like his thoughts are a mess, mind a haze in the midst of mourning. he cannot help but close his eyes at your words, at your warmth. he doesn't know if he can believe you, not yet. to grant himself forgiveness is an act of selfishness, and it is not one that is deserved. not now, maybe not ever.

"you've always bested me, haven't you?" even now, he's unsure of what to say, what to do. you've always been right, always known the best course of action. even in the darkest nights of ruin, you've always managed to find the light. for that, he is grateful. "...you have my heart, always. thank you."

you smile, but this time, it is a quiet sadness, yet almost hopeful. your lips meet his-- brief, but more than enough.

the journey ahead is a long one. it will be difficult. it will be harsh, cruel, and it will push both of you to the point of break. but so long as you have each other, you will make it.

"of course." you answer, and you kiss him once more. "you have my heart, too. our paths will always be intertwined, clive."

he laces his fingers with yours, lips ghosting against the back of your hand in an act of reverence.

"yes," he murmurs, and maybe there is something holy in the way he speaks to you, looks at you, "always."