#please this is apparently the content i desperately need in my life

[seokgyuu]

Running a little witch store in a small town, recently the only exciting thing has been Jake visiting your store every other day. While he doesn’t buy anything, his looks are enough to make your days a little less boring. And when he comes in one day, mixing up his offered tea with a very, very powerful aphrodisiac… it is about to get a lot more than just a little less boring. 

Pairing: Neighbor!Jake x Witch!Reader Genre: Porn with almost no plot, Supernatural (as reader is a witch, duh) Warnings: Jake is a bit of an idiot but hot, reader is very sarcastic… are those even warnings? Reader has female anatomy and is described as a woman, pure filth basically, MINORS DNI!!! Smut tags under the cut Word Count: 6k  A/N: Well hello! Happy Halloween everyone! My little last minute Halloween Project is done! First up, thanks to @aaagustd for the AMAZING banner!!! And my lovely @heechwe for betaing! This  work was very, highly, extremely inspired by a clears throat spicy audio that was uploaded literally last night. Could not stop imagining it to be Jake who this happens to… so here we are. The creator’s name is AugustInTheWinter, check out his Patreon or Reddit, I swear it is SO worth it if you’re into audios!! Anyway, thanks August for this inspo and thank you guys for reading! tagging my beloved @yvnempire because she's so excited about this hehe. Please leave comments and/or reblog, it would mean the absolute world! Wanna support me? Here's my Ko-Fi!

Smut Tags: Big dick!Jake, Jake starts nervous and a bit subby, but turns into a beast, handjob, blowjob, face-fucking, facial, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!), multiple orgasms, loads of cum (like really… so much), dirty talk, degradation (words used: whore, slut, hole, fucktoy etc.) cumplay, cum eating, tell me if i missed anything!

Everything about this town was boring. 

The scenery was boring. The activities were boring. The people were boring.

Just… everything. 

Your coven had sent you here because of the apparent magical aura you so, as they said, “desperately needed to achieve your full potential”. Bullshit, for all you cared. The magical aura might have been strong, but it was so deeply rooted into the earth, you had trouble reaching it even after hours of channeling your own powers. Of course, you didn’t tell them that. All they knew was that you were having a blast in this shithole of a town and had already made tons of friends. 

So far no one had questioned your answers and so you just lived your life, hoping you would soon succeed in attaining the magical power of this place and go back to your normal life. 

Recently, though, you at least had something a little less boring gracing you every other day. Jake Sim - the neighbor from across the street. He was handsome and a little shy and very obviously did not believe magic existed. Not that you cared much about that, no, you had been exposed to many people who didn’t believe in you and your kind, not to mention all the other supernatural beings walking on the face of earth. 

Jake was a non-believer and wonderful to look at and you were fine with that. Content. More than happy. 

As you were brewing some potions a few of the older women around town had ordered (while they also didn’t exactly believe in magic, they at least believed in your ability to brew things that were extremely efficient in their gardens), you found yourself thinking about the pretty man again. About his laugh and his eyes, about the way his shirt would rise up and show a bit of his happy trail leading down to something you could only wish to see fully exposed one day. 

Truthfully, the last time you got laid had been ages ago. So long that you couldn’t even really remember who it was with and where. It was a curse, this town, and seeing a young attractive man stalking into your store a few weeks back had suddenly brought back the desire you had managed to suppress for who knows how long. 

Just then, as you were deep in thought, cutting up some lavender, the door opened and the little bell above it rang, bringing you back to the present. 

“Hi Y/N!” 

Jake had his puppy smile on, hair blown out of his face and a thick coat hanging off his shoulders. He walked over to the counter and you smiled up at him, catching yourself finding his flushed cheeks extremely endearing.

“Jake, welcome. Anything I can do for you today or are just here for another chat about how magic can’t be real?” You tilted your head and gave him a playful smile that he answered with a little laugh.

“Actually, I did come for something today. Mrs. Bloodstean said you have some great tonics for flowers?”

Ah, yes, Mrs, Bloodstean, the woman three houses down who had trouble with her roses. You had helped her and now her roses bloomed all year round. 

“I do indeed, Mr. Sim. What can I get for you?”

“Well, I’ve been having some troubles with my Mandevillas… they don’t seem to wanna bloom as much as, uh, I would like them to.”

His sheepish grin would have made your knees weak if you’d been standing. You nodded and got up, checking the shelves behind you for the potion he’d need to get his flowers to grow and bloom as much as he liked. Eyes roaming over the different bottles, you soon came to the realization you were out and clicked your tongue.

“Seems like I’ll have to brew one. That’s gonna take a couple minutes, do you want some tea while you wait?”

Jake nodded yes and smiled, turning around to do this usual routine through the rows of shelves in your store. From a safe distance, he began to watch you do your thing, cutting up ingredients and throwing them into a miniature cauldron Jake couldn’t help but be amused by. A witch store in the middle of this small town, run by one of the most attractive women Jake had ever laid his eyes on. 

When he had first stumbled in here, he had mistaken it for an alternative medicine shop. While he wasn’t totally wrong, he also wasn’t fully correct. You did offer some remedies and lotions, some potions and tonics, but you also had crystals and salts and books in your many high rising wooden shelves. The first day, he had spent hours just browsing through the books, not thinking of actually buying anything, but somehow being immersed into this world of magic he was so sure could only exist in fiction. 

He hadn’t even noticed someone working at the front behind the counter until he turned to leave, almost stumbling over his feet when he spotted you. You concentrated on a page in an old looking book, biting down onto your tongue that was slightly sticking out of your mouth. You with the prettiest face he had ever seen, that made it so hard to look away. 

After that, he came back every other day, hoping to talk to you, get to know you and maybe ask you out on a date. Of course, he never did because if Jake was anything it was a coward. It didn’t matter that he somehow happened to be handsome, his charisma was in the trenches. 

It was obvious he didn’t see the effect he had on you, which made it even more fun to have him around in your store. You could sense that this man did not have one indecent thought about you while in the store, even when you wore low cut shirts or skirts with slits almost as high as your hip. No, he was a good boy, a sweet boy. The contrast of the two of you was almost comical - you thinking about what it would be like to feel him, to taste him, to push him against a bookshelf and have your way with him and Jake just wanting to man up to ask you out. 

Circling back to the front, Jake saw you hard at work and decided to fill his tea cup by himself, the steaming blue teapot on the right side of the counter. Smiling, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes widening at the sweet taste. 

God, that’s delicious!

The hotness of the drink seemed to fade into the background as the taste spread on his tongue, so sweet and wonderful his eyes almost rolled back, the liquid making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy, and without even noticing he finished the whole cup in one go. 

“Wow, that tea is amazing! What kind is it? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.” Jake put the cup back down and beamed at you. 

Blinking, you looked up at the brown-haired man, your mind a little slow at catching up with what Jake said. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, brows furrowing slightly.

“The tea you made me, what kind is it?” He repeated, pointing at the teapot next to him. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, then you slowly got up.

“How much did you drink of that?” You asked calmly. 

“A whole cup, it’s like so, so good, how-,”

“A whole cup?!” The volume of your voice surprised both of you and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open a little.

“Was that- was I not supposed to? I- I’m sorry, you seemed busy, so I just helped myself.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. Watching Jake’s confused face, trying to read his thoughts. He had absolutely no idea what he just drank. But you did. 

A grin found its way onto your lips, a grin so diabolical it made Jake’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not your tea, Jakey,” you said, pointing at the teapot he drank from, “your tea is over here.”

Jake followed where your finger pointed next, a small black teapot standing to your left, all done with a cute little pink cup next to it. He blinked a few times.

“Then- then what is this?” He asked, nervousness beginning to spread through his body. Your grin deepened.

“Oh, that? That’s just the very, very powerful aphrodisiac for Mrs. Brown’s husband. See, he can’t really get it up anymore.”

Silence. Jake felt like the whole world had suddenly gone silent at your words. But then he remembered where he was, who you were and how incredibly unlikely it was that this really worked. So, he snorted.

“Right. An aphrodisiac in the form of tea, I’m sure that’s gonna work wonders with Mr. Brown.”

“Not just him, but you too, you know,” you began to walk around the counter, stopping when you reached the other side, leaning against it with crossed arms, “and you’re only supposed to drink one sip of it. You, dear Jakey, drank a whole fucking cup.”

Honestly, Jake still didn’t believe you. Or at least he thought he didn’t. But something about the way you looked at him almost made him falter. He laughed and shook his head.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m not an idiot. This obviously isn’t going to work, it’s a hoax, we all know it’s a hoax.”

“Is it though, Jake? Is it really a hoax?”

“What? Of course it is! Magic isn’t real, can’t be real, this tea surely won’t help Mr. Brown get an erection and I, my friend, more than anything, will not get aroused by some fake viag-,”

Oh shit. Jake couldn’t help the deep moan escaping his throat when he suddenly felt the hardest wave of pleasure hit his body. He almost dropped to his knees, his cock growing harder by the second, pressing against the seam of his jeans, making them uncomfortably tight. 

“You won’t get aroused, Jake? Yes? Is that right?” You were having the time of your life. This was better than anything you could have ever predicted. By Mystra, how could you have forgotten about the tea for Mrs. Brown? And how lucky were you for Jake to mistake it as his own? You couldn’t believe your luck. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jake groaned now, his chest heaving and you tilted your head again, watching sweat form on the handsome man’s forehead. His pupils were blown and his face flushed and, fuck, did he look good. 

“I would say the potion is kicking in. How does it feel?” You bit your lip, watching Jake struggle to find words for what was happening inside… and outside of him.

“I- well, oh fuck, it, uhm, it feels… it feels like, like I’ve never- like it’s so.. it’s so h-hard, you know?”

“Hm, I don’t think I do. Perhaps you can show me, just so I can check if it all looks normal?”

Jake’s cock twitched at that. You wanted to see? Check if it looked normal? Another moan made its way through his lips and it sounded so utterly pathetic you felt yourself drip into your panties.

“Wh- what do you mean “normal”? C-Could it look, like, n-not normal?” He was sweating. A part of him really wanted you to see, to check, to maybe even touch him, but another felt shy, didn’t want this to happen before taking you out to a nice dinner, maybe even a movie and- 

Fuck, who was he kidding? 

“I don’t know, that’s why I wanna check. Will you show me, Jakey?” 

“F-fine, b-but only to check!” His cheeks were on fire at this point. His cheeks on fire and his cock hard as a rock, aching and throbbing and probably aggressively red at the tip. 

That last prediction proved to be correct when he pulled down his pants and briefs at once, his cock springing free, standing harder and prouder than he had ever seen it. He whimpered at the sight. 

And you? You almost fell to your knees, itching to touch him, to lick over the tip that was already leaking so, so miserably. Oh good lord. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again and you swallowed hard, eyes glued to the huge cock Jake had been hiding from you.

“Is it- is it always this big?” You asked, not even looking into Jake’s face anymore.

“Well, n-not when it’s not, uhm, you know… h-hard.”

“So it’s this size even when no potion is involved?” You wanted to know.

“Y-yeah, that didn’t change.”

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, your hand wanting to grab around him so badly, but you contained yourself. 

“What- what can we do? Like is there an antidote? Can I- can I drink another potion? Or maybe there is, uhm, fuck, a spell or something?”

You chuckled.

“Now you believe in spells, Jakey? Funny timing,” finally, you raised your head to look at him again, “but no, there is no antidote. Like I said, it’s made to help get it up and given in a specific dose. But you, my dear, drank probably thrice as much as necessary.”

“So what does that mean? I- I can’t just go home like this!”

He was right about that. Everyone would see him sporting the largest boner known to mankind. And right now, you decided, this was only for your eyes. 

“I think the best way to deal with it is to, frankly speaking, empty it.”

Stars seemed to dance around Jake’s head when you spoke, the image of you rubbing his cock, sucking on it or even bouncing on it to empty him of all his cum… he twitched aggressively. 

“S-so, wh-what are you sug-suggesting?” His heart was speeding in chest and he was trying his hardest not to jump to conclusions. 

Yet another devilish grin spread on your lips as you raised your hand and snapped your fingers, closing the blinds of the storefront window and locking the door all at once. In any other situation, Jake would have been freaked out, but right now all he could concentrate on was the way you pushed yourself off the counter and looked at him from head to, well, problem.

“I am suggesting, Jake, that it would only be right of me to help you out.”

Jake swallowed hard, glued to where he was standing, his cock still so unbelievably hard, still aching and throbbing and in desperate need of attention. 

As you lowered yourself, knees soon hitting the wooden floor, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Do you want me to help you out?”

“God, yes, please.”

And there it was. All that you needed to finally bring your hand to his cock. He immediately moaned, head falling back as his hips moved forward, thrusting into your grip. You chuckled as you slowly began to move, bringing your thumb to his tip, gathering all of the already leaking precum to use as lubricant. 

It already brought you immense pleasure, jerking him off. Staring up at him, seeing nothing but pure lust and desperation on his face. You were throbbing between your legs, wetness building up more every passing moment. 

“Fuuuuuck, yeah, j-just like that, oh wow.” 

Jake felt like he had never been touched like this before. Every bit of friction against his skin was like the first time. Every inch you touched with your hand was burning, sparkling with something he could only describe as magic. He couldn’t stop the desperate moans even if he tried, couldn’t stop his hips chasing your hand, thrusting into it like a mad man. 

“Faster, please!” He cried out and you obeyed, speeding up your hand. Your eyes were glued to his cockhead then, watching how precum kept leaking, drips landing on your floor or the briefs that were hanging around his ankles with his jeans. 

You worked your hand faster, having trouble closing it around his big shaft and finally adding the second, working him at double speed with his cockhead still peaking out. 

God, how would he feel inside you? 

Two hands around his cock and Jake could sense a first orgasm approaching. He thrusted his hips, fucking both of your hands, eyes rolled back into his skull, the pleasure completely taking over.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck, fuck, I am fucking your hands so good, shit!” He didn’t know where to put his energy, switching between moaning and whining and saying his incoherent thoughts out loud, feeling himself leak onto your hands. He wondered what you’d do when he came, if you’d just let him come right onto you or if you’d point it elsewhere. 

“Feel good, Jakey? You look so hot, so, so good for me.” You stared up at him, batting your eyelashes and finally Jake looked down at you, his spit catching in his throat. You looked insane with his cock in your hands, your face wild and determined, a small grin on your lips that made his cock twitch once more. The whimper escaping him must have been the single most arousing thing you had ever heard. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m s-so close,” he cried and you nodded, licking over your lips.

“Yeah, come for me, wanna see you come, Jakey.”

When he had said yes to you helping him out, he sure as hell had not expected dirty talk to be involved and, shit, was he happy it was. His mouth fell open wider, eyes glossy and focused on your face. He knew it was going to be a lot, knew he’s going to shoot the biggest load of his life onto you in a few heartbeats.

“C-Coming, oh- shit!” 

When he came, he came. Cum spurted out his cock, and you didn’t even think about letting a drop go to waste. The first load landed on your neck and collarbones, dripped down your cleavage and over your breasts, the second you managed to catch with your tongue slurping it down like a five-star meal. The third landed on your cheeks and chin, some on your neck, joining his already left mark. 

Jake truly couldn’t believe his eyes. You, the woman he had been thinking about asking out for weeks now, covered in and eating his cum. Another little bit of cum dribbled out his cock and you caught it perfectly with the tip of your tongue, causing Jake to groan desperately. 

He was still so fucking hard. Still desperate for more.

“I need more, I’m still so hard, please.” His pleasing eyes and slightly trembling lips made the picture in front of you perfect. Jake, big cock full on display, still hard from the potion he had drank by pure accident, his first orgasm so powerful he had shot three loads onto you, was now begging you for more. 

And you were more than eager to make every wish of his come true. 

“Since you said please…,” you grinned, leaning forward, not giving a damn about the seed currently drying on your skin, and flicking your tongue against his tip, his hand almost immediately moving to grip the back of your head.  “God, yes, yes, please take it into your mouth, fuck, please!”

His wish was your command. 

Your lips closed around his tip, sucking on it just slightly, tongue gliding over his sensitive slit, tasting his bittersweet taste, wondering if maybe the potion had altered something about it. Next, you moved your head forward, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling the veins of his cock press against your tongue. A moan erupted through you, the arousal almost too much to bear at this point. 

“Ohhhh, god, yes, take it, take it deeper, shit.” His hips moved, pushing more of him into your mouth. He seemed to vibrate, seemed to fit perfectly into your wet heat, tip hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag, spit dripping from his shaft down to the floor. Your hands grabbed the back of his thighs, steading yourself as he began to thrust down your throat. 

“Holy fuck, that’s right, gag on my cock, gag on it, fuck.”

It must have been the potion speaking because he wasn’t usually this vocal. But then again, he had never had anyone take his cock down their throat as well as you were doing right now. Gagging and spitting and tearing up, but nothing in your face showed discomfort. No, you were thriving on this and Jake felt your arousal in the air, felt it mixing with his and he sped up his hips, both hands now holding your head in place as he let out the most beautiful moan you had ever heard. 

He shoved you down his cock completely now, his balls hitting your chin as he fucked your mouth like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Drool mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin, tears began to stream down your face, your eyes rapidly blinking as you watched him lose all of his composure. You wished to keep this memory engraved into your brain for all of your life.

Jake was in a rush, in a complete trance, fucking down your throat, feeling your tongue against his shaft, your throat restricting around him, your gags and chokes turning him on even more. Somehow, with every thrust closer to his release, he felt the tension rise up more. 

What the fuck even was in that potion? 

It hit him then, his second orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier, quicker, accompanied by desperate moans, whimpers and groans. 

You managed to swallow it all, the load just as huge as during his first orgasm, shot after shot down your throat, your eyes growing wide while you sucked him dry, or at least attempted to.

“Swallow it all, yes, yes, fuck, come on, come on! Take it all, I know you want to, fuck!” 

There was no control left in his body, the potions effect taking over completely. 

He emptied his cock into your mouth and pulled out when he at least thought it was over, only for another wave to hit him and land on your skin again. He felt like an artist painting an already perfect canvas with his own visions. 

“S-sorry, fuck,” He breathed hard, watching you slowly get up, your face wild and stained with his seed as well as your own tears. Your eyes were red, pupils blown and with every gaze you shared, he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He swallowed and looked down, seeing his cock still hard, still throbbing and aching. Would this ever end?

“I need more, need more,” he mumbled, stumbling forward and grabbing your hips roughly. You moaned at his touch, your fingers gliding over your chest to pick up some of his cum and shove it into your mouth, sucking them clean. He swore under his breath.

“Do you want to fuck me, Jakey?” You asked then, voice sweet like honey, but body looking so breathtakingly filthy. 

“Want to, need to, have to,” he replied, moving to lick some of his own cum off your neck. You moaned at that surprising action, pussy throbbing and dripping. Without another thought, you dipped forward, pressing your lips against his. He kissed you back right away, tongue shoving into your mouth and he could taste himself even more on your tongue. His hands ripped open the corset-dress you were wearing, freeing your tits from their prison and immediately moving to grab them.

You hopped onto the counter then, pulling him closer, legs hooking around his waist. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth and spit and hotness all mixed together. You shoved his coat off his shoulders and opened the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped you.

“No time, need to be inside you now.” He basically growled, fingers simultaneously finding your panties and ripping them off of you just like he had your dress. You spread your legs further, ready for him, more ready than you had ever been. 

Jake knew he had reached heaven right then. Grabbing his cock and bringing it to your drenched pussy, pushing into your awaiting entrance and feeling you grip him, pulling him closer. He cried out, whimpered into your ear and continued to suck on your skin, cleaning you off of his seed all while working to bottom out.

And when he was finally buried to the hilt, he only paused for a second to take it all in, before beginning to fuck into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, mouth dropping open as your head tipped back and high pitched moans crawled out of your throat over and over. 

“So fucking tight, taking me so fucking well, such a dirty fucking slut.” Jake bit your neck and you cried out once more, your whole body shaking with pleasure as he continued to fuck you. There was nothing you could compare to what was happening right now. No one had ever fucked you as good, as hard and as fulfilling as Jake. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, Jake pulled out of you and grabbed your waist, heaving you off the counter only to spin your around and push you down onto it, your ass up in the air.

“Sorry, need to fuck you like this.”

Back in he went - full speed, full force. The counter shook under you and you gasped when he began to thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, split you open so beautifully it felt like you were going to burst. You threw your ass back at him, clawing at the edge of the counter, eyes falling shut as you let yourself enjoy the way he drilled into you.

There was a high chance Jake was going to grow addicted to this feeling. Never had he ever had sex as good as this and perhaps this was courtesy of the potion - or maybe it was just you. You with the perfect pussy, the perfect mouth, the perfect hands. Everything about you seemed to heighten his arousal, seemed to get him closer from the edge all while pushing him even further away from it. 

He could do this for hours, fuck you until he came, spill his seed in you over and over, watch how it spilled out. God, he wanted to see your pussy stuffed with his cum so bad. Watching his cock slip in and out of you, hearing the noises you made, it was almost too much.

“You’re my perfect little hole, aren’t you? Just made to be fucked like this,” he couldn’t help himself, grabbing your hips even rougher and spitting down to make it even wetter. Not that that was really necessary. You were dripping down his cock as well as your own thighs and Jake swore he would never recover. 

“Fuck, Jake!” You cried out, hip trying desperately to move while he held you, eyes opening only to roll back as your orgasm hit you like a brutal wave.

“Shit, are you gonna come on my cock, slut?” Jake saw red as he felt your pussy spasm around him, pulling him even deeper, squeezing him for all he had, wanting to milk him dry of his load. 

And who was he to deny such a request?

“Come inside me, Jake, please, please, please!”

You had sensed his orgasm and he let out a growl, finally filling your pussy with his load just as you hit your second high right after the first. Once again, it didn’t stop, it just kept on coming, his cum landing inside you and already dripping out as he fucked both of you through your orgasms, filthy sounds filling the air next to both of your moans and groans and pleads for more. 

Jake had expected to be done after three, but no, he was still hard, and so he grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, standing up straighter as he picked up the speed once more.

“Need another one, baby, just one more, fuck, m-maybe two, I just- fuck, I am so hard, I need to fuck you more, wanna fuck you all night, need to fuck your pussy.”

There was nothing left in his brain except for the need to come, for the need to fuck you. He was like an animal during heat, felt like he was going to explode. His cock was so incredibly sensitive, hurting even at this point, but it was addictive, you were addictive. Just the thought of not being inside of you anymore filled him with something close to agony. 

“Y-yes, fu-fuck me Jake, your cock feels so good, s-so big!”

At this point you could have taken the potion yourself judging by how you were feeling and talking. Normally, you were the one in charge, the one on top. But with Jake? You enjoyed being in his hands like this, enjoyed being used by him for his pleasure. You wanted him to fill you up, to split you open, to do with you whatever the hell he wanted. 

“God, yes, like my big cock fucking you open like that? Such a good behaved little whore, isn’t that right?” He found himself slapping your ass, and judging by your reaction that had been the exactly right thing to do. He groaned when he felt you squeeze him again, both hands back to holding your hands in place.

He lost himself in you. Lost himself in the pleasure. And you lost yourself in him and the need to have him fill you up again and again. 

His fourth orgasm made his cock soften a little. He filled you to the brim, watched the majority drip down your legs, forming a little puddle to your feet and he licked his lips, letting go of your hands and pulling out of you, turning you back around and placing you back on top of the counter. 

“Lean back,” he ordered and you did as wanted, eyes wide and pussy throbbing from the last orgasm a few seconds ago. 

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him position himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and placed it in between your lips - to thrust in between them, cockhead repeatedly hitting your clit. You gasped, body jerking forward.

“Wanna paint your whole body with my cum, stay still.” His big hands grabbed your hips, pinning you to the counter as he began to thrust his cock over your pussy, the friction already enough to almost make him come again. 

“Mhmm, y-yes, f-feels good!” You cried and he grinned, continuing his spiel like a madman. 

“You’re so sexy, so fucking sexy, baby.” He breathed out, his brain slowly but surely coming back to him. And when he heard that little noise you apparently always made before you came (if he could trust the two orgasms from earlier), he felt himself reach the edge as well. 

Your head fell back when you felt the next orgasm hit and your pussy ached for more when his next load landed all over your stomach, even reaching as far as your tits, painting you just like he had wanted. 

The canvas was finished.

But Jake wasn’t.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, so sorry, I need to-,” his head was fuming red, and he moved back a little, just to dip his cock back into your spent pussy and you fell flat onto your back, your head hanging over the counter. 

He fucked you like a ragdoll, like a toy, like he didn’t even really acknowledge you were still there. He pressed down onto your stomach and sped up, tried to fuck you deeper. He imagined he could feel his cock through your skin, imagined he could see himself fucking you just like that. 

“S-so deep!” You cried out and he looked at you, at your body, and nodded, watching now how your tits jumped at every thrust. They were stained with his cum as well and he hoped he would never forget this image. 

“One more, promise, just one more, my perfect little fucktoy, yeah?”

His words were so filthy, so desperate and full of need, they made your pussy spasm again, made you grip him hard over and over again. 

“That’s it, fuck! Gonna come, gonna come, shit, sh-shit! Take my cum, take it, yes, yes!” He was in a spiral downwards, then back up and back down - his last orgasm hitting him like a fucking brick, yet another load landing inside your pussy - one, two, three. His cock twitched and twitched and finally began to soften. 

When he pulled out, he fell backwards, landing on the floor, his eyes wide and his ass hurting. 

The potion slowly lost its grip on him, his normal, coherent thoughts coming back all while he was getting down from his many, many highs. 

You pulled yourself up in exhaustion, your chest heaving. When you sat up straight again, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jake on the floor. 

“Need a hand?” You asked, carefully jumping off the counter and finding that your legs were nothing but mere jelly. Quickly, you grabbed onto the edges of the surface and found your balance again.

“I- I-,” Jake began to stutter, his eyes probably the size of saucers by now. You grinned.

“You?” You raised a brow. Jake’s face turned crimson.

“I- I’m sorry, I-,”

“You’re apologizing? For what? The best sex I’ve ever had?” You snorted, “No, Jakey, no need to apologize.” 

Jake bit the inside of his cheeks. Best sex you’ve ever had? While he wanted to feel proud, he wasn’t so sure if that really had been him having sex with you or if the potion had a mind of its own. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” you moved forward now, stretching your hand out for Jake to take, “the potion only strengthens what’s already there. It doesn’t change your personality, it just makes you give less fucks.”

Had you read his mind? Jake cleared his throat and nodded slowly, before taking your hand and letting you help him up. 

Only then, when he was standing so close to you again, did he realize you were still covered in his seed. He turned even redder.

“Oh, right.” You giggled, closing your eyes and once again snapping your fingers. 

Immediately, you were clean of his cum and back in your dress - which had also magically repaired itself. Jake also found himself back in his briefs and jeans, his coat safely hanging over the counter. His mouth dropped.

“You-,”

“Are an actual witch, correct, Sherlock.” You winked at him and walked back to the other side of the counter, “Now, do you still need that potion?”

Jake stared at you for a second.

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, watching as you quickly finished the preparations. He didn’t dare say anything, his heart beating at triple speed and his brain working overtime. He had just fucked you. For like… a good while. And he didn’t even have your phone number.

“There you go,” you smiled and carefully shoved the bottle with the potion over the counter, “just pour a few drops over your flowers tonight. You should already see some results in the morning.”

“Th-thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, Jakey. You already paid me enough.” You said cheekily and Jake found himself choking on his own spit.

When he walked out he regretted not asking you for your number. Or if you wanted to go on a date. 

But that night, when he got ready to put the potion to its use, he saw a little note stuck to the label he hadn’t seen before.

Tomorrow, 8 o’clock at your place. I promise I’ll bring wine that won’t make you wanna fuck me for hours. It’s a date! Also here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxx. See you tomorrow, loverboy!

Jake found himself laughing out loud. 

And while he did his work in the garden, he thought that just because the wine wouldn’t be the reason, he sure as hell would not mind fucking you for hours at least twice every day for the rest of his life.

[hederasgarden]

Can I get "Don't be shy now, sit on my face" with the cowboy himself, Mr. Tyler Owens?

BESTIE. The scream I scrumpt.  Thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the mechanical bull idea. This is long because I am incapable of responding to a request in 100 words apparently.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x F!Reader Word Count: 569 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, 18+ only. Oral (female receiving) and face sitting. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Glen Powell Character Masterlist

"And this is supposed to help me ride the mechanical bull how exactly?" you question with your knees planted on either side of Tyler's chest.

"Just trust me, sweetheart."

“That's not an answer," you tell him archly. 

He tilts his head back to look up at you. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"No...I'm just a bit nervous,” you admit.

He gazes steadily at you, and the way he rubs his hands up and down your thighs is both soothing and reassuring. "Well, you know what I like to say....you don't face your fears, you ride them."

You stare down at him, unamused. He grins back at you.

"Come on little lady, belly up to the bar," he encourages, cupping your ass and yanking you forward until the most intimate part of you is only inches away from his face. 

Embarrassment burns under your skin, and you fight the urge to shift away. This close, Tyler's bound to see every little imperfection, and it’s made worse by the fact that he’s practically perfect himself. Sometimes just looking at him could overwhelm you, not to mention what happened when he took his shirt off.

"Come on," he encourages softly.

Hesitantly, you lower yourself over him until he can nose at your folds. You grip the headboard and shift experimentally, inhaling sharply when Tyler drags the flat of his tongue through your center. Your thighs tense and he does it again, letting out a low, satisfied little hum that has you clenching around nothing. 

For a few minutes, Tyler seems content just to taste and tease you with soft, sweeping motions.  Slowly, you feel yourself begin to relax, some of the tension leaving your thighs. When you settle more firmly against him, he groans in response, his fingers flexing against your skin. You close your eyes and rock your hips forward, the world narrowing to the feel of his tongue in your cunt and his nose brushing against your clit. 

"Tyler," you moan. 

He groans in response, fingertips digging into your skin as his tongue spears into you. The messy way he eats you out is so loud that you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how good it makes you feel. Gone is any hesitation on your part as you ride his face in earnest. You grasp his hair and pull, desperate to have him even closer.

The beginning of your orgasm sparks to life in your belly, the rough drag of his tongue over your clit fanning the embers. Your hips move of their own accord, your body chasing what it needs. When your orgasm washes over you Tyler doesn’t stop, holding you still as he drinks greedily from your cunt. By the time he’s done with you, your thighs are trembling, and your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s Tyler,” he reminds you with a smirk. You watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He’s flush and his hair is tousled from your grip. But above all, he looks satisfied. 

“That was good, sweetheart. Real good.”

All you can manage is a thumbs up in response, your head hanging forward. “So,” you begin, “are you going to tell me now what that had to do with bull riding.”

“Not a goddamn thing,” he says with the biggest grin you’ve seen.

Send me a request

[igotanidea]

The little bean: Anthony Bridgerton x pregnant!wife!reader

A/N: So..... After my "Too much" series I've been asked to do something with Antony and pregnancy trope. And since 1) I got baby fever and 2) Bridgertons are back, there is no better time than now.

***

“Y/N, my love, what are you doing?”

“I’m holding a book…?”

Ever since Y/N found out she was pregnant with the heir (which she would rather address as her precious little baby, instead of giving him titles before he or she was even born) Anthony entered right into an overprotective mood. If anything he would just keep her home, away from any prying eyes, that – in his opinion – might somehow take a look inside, at his baby and perhaps, see the little one before it came into the view of a proud viscount father.

Y/N could barely walk around the Bridgerton household, let alone the garden, without her husband chasing after her with a very concerned look, ready to carry her wherever she wished, just so that her feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

There were so many dangers on the way after all.

Wild animals. (i.e. bees, dogs and strays cats)

Speeding carriages.

Stones on which she might trip and fall.

Too much sun.

Too little sun.

And worst of all-

Members of the ton.

It was merely the first trimester and viscountess was torn between calming Anthony down (tactfully avoiding the information that the next months will be much more challenging) or just rushing away to her mother-in-law (yet, again) to seek aid in keeping him in check.

And just when she thought the oldest Bridgerton could not get any more obsessive, he took the lecture she was reading out of her hands.

“My dear, you cannot carry such weights. It’s straining and I am to protect you from threats.”

“It’s a book…” she frowned a little, but not without a hint of amusement in her voice

“It’s heavy.”  

“It's a 200 page novel…”

“It’s heavy.” Anthony’s voice was gentle, but firm. Both demanding and pleading.

“Anthony…”

“Y/N.”

“I can hold my own book.”

“We got servants for that.  In fact – let me call upon your maid and –“ he started walking towards the door in sheer purpose to liberate his dearest wife from the unnecessary burden.

Nonetheless his dearest wife had quite a different plan, reaching to grab his hand and stopping him in his tracks.

“My love. Please, come. Let us sit.” She guided him to the ottoman, still keeping the soft touch that was grounding to him.

Much to her surprise Anthony rushed to the furniture first, fixing pillows and blankets so Y/N could sit comfortably. And apparently that word, in his language, meant sitting half a meter in the air, covered from head to toe, regardless of the perfect spring weather outside.

“Here. Perfect.” He flashed a perfect smile, content with the spot he made for her.

“Anthony…”

“Yes, my love?” as he spun around meeting with her desperate look, the smile slowly disappeared from his face. “Y/N? Are you not feeling well?” Anthony grabbed both her hands in his, searching her face for any symptoms of malaise, dizziness, nausea. “Do you need some water? Or-“

“No, no, Anthony, please just listen to me for a moment-“

“Perhaps I should call upon Daphne, she already had a child of her own and she would be of help. Or maybe my mother could-“

“Anthony!” she laughed whole-heartedly at his  feverishness “I am not going to give birth in the fourth month of pregnancy! Please just calm down.”

“Just say a word and I’ll call for a medic immediately. Do not fret my dearest, I will take the best care of you. I swear on my life that-“

At that moment Y/N used the most effective way to stop his blubbering in the form of putting his hand on her slightly rounded belly in which their baby was healthily growing.

“Shh.” She whispered, putting her own palm on top of Anthony's, calming him down, letting him caress the stomach in hope to make him calm down. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I don’t need medic. Nor your mother. And certainly not your younger sister. I am feeling good and the only thing that concerns me is my husband's distress over nothing.”

“Nothing? You are carrying our baby!”

“And our baby needs his father to stop fretting.”

“But-“

“Here!” her eyes grew wide as she guided his hand to another place “did you feel it?”

“Was it--?” Anthony’s face expression mirrored the one of his wife.

“It kicked…” she whispered as their gazes met and for a second that extended into eternity, they just kept looking into each other’s eyes expressing so many feelings.

And then, almost as if in a dream, Anthony fell to his knees in front of Y/N, pressing his head into her belly.

“Our baby.” He whispered, kissing her body through the material of the dress. “our little baby.” He wrapped arms around her midsection with his ear pressed to the home of the child, almost hoping to hear him or her inside.

“Our baby…” she repeated with tears in her eyes. Despite knowing and obviously – feeling the imminent arrival of the new family member it was the first time she actually felt and knew. And it was beautiful. Her little bean was really there. Growing and waiting for the right moment to appear in the world, landing right into the waiting, safe arms of loving mother and father.      

“Do you think it can hear us?” Anthony pressed one ear to her stomach, his entire face lighting up at the possibility.

“Depends.” She chuckled

“On what?” his eyes travelled up to meet hers.

“If I say yes, will that mean you start talking to my insides?”

Anthony smirked.

“I will do that, even if you say no.”

“Then why the question?”

“Testing your knowledge.”

“I am not a doctor, Anthony. My expertise in the area might be a little limited.”

“Very well. Then give me an answer as a mother, not a medic.”

“Yes. Yes, I think it can hear us.” She cupped Anthony’s cheek in the affectionate gesture. There was something utterly heartening in seeing him like this. Holding her (and/or the baby) like she was the most precious thing in the world, needing the assurance that his child was already reaching to him.

That it could hear him, even if it wasn’t even born yet. Hoping for the love of the Lord that it was truly happening. That in a few months, that were going to pass by with extraordinary speed, the little one, a girl or a boy, would take a corporal form. That the viscount would not only be a noble and a husband but would also take on the new role – a father. A protector. Caregiver. A teacher, guardian and a guide. That somehow – his life would be complete. He’ll have his own little family. Something that was nearly impossible to him a few years prior.

And now-

“Anthony…” Y/N whispered, wiping a single tear from his eyes. “Sweetheart, what is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, love. It’s all perfect.”

“Then why are you-?”

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Of course not.” She laughed softly brushing his hair. “But if you’d want to actually talk to the baby, that would stay in this little circle.”

Anthony smiled lovingly, grateful for having his miracle of a woman in his life. She understood him so perfectly well.

“We’re waiting for you, little one.” He whispered against her attire, with a little muffled voice, be it from emotions or closeness of his lips on her body. “You are already loved by two people, with more to come.”

‘You can say it Anthony…” Y/N whispered, knowing what he was holding back.

“I love you my little one.” The viscount whispered with the softest voice, caressing the place where the kick was previously felt.

And they stood like that for a while longer, enjoying that moment of joy and thinking about the future that looked quite bright. 

[ghostsstolemymoxie]

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

[rushtoprove]

to deceive a prince

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: general audiences word count: 6k+ summary: when aemond targaryen shows interest in courting your little sister, she employs your help to capture his attention through sharing letters and notes, all the while acting as if you are her. it was never meant to become so complicated. warnings: medieval catfishing? rom-com vibes. a little bit of fluff because my masterlist was getting to angsty so i needed something to lighten it up. catfishing bad in real life obviously. This has been flagged as mature by the tumblr gods but i promise it’s not.

“Please!” You wanted to curse your sister. Could she not see you were enjoying the peace of the gardens? That you were content simply reading beneath the oak tree that kept you hidden from the surrounding courtiers? Why did she need to pester you with such idiotic conversation? 

“Repeat it again?” You were in disbelief at what your younger sister had just requested of you, but her excitement rendered her oblivious to the discomfort. 

“Prince Aemond requested me as a dance partner at the ball last night and now I am in love! But I woke up to this letter beneath my door and I do not know how to reply! Or what some of the words mean. He was so sullen with me last night that I thought he must have hated me so. But he likes me!” She spun around in childish glee, ignoring your widened eyes and cruel laughter. 

“So, you want me to write back to him? As you? This morning did you not call him a tedious bore? You said you regretted wasting a dance on him, if I recall correctly?” 

“Yes, yes, I know! I was too devastated that he did not like me, so I had no choice but to mask my despair. I know you understand what I’m asking for, I do not know why this is the fourth time you want me to repeat it you obviously know what I’m talking about!” 

“Tell me one more time for good luck.” You could help but play with Mariyanna now, enjoying her desperation. You both had only just been sent to attend court three days ago, but it was no surprise to you that she would catch a suitor’s eye so quick. Even if it was the sullen prince with an ill temperament that many had warned you to take care around. 

“Stop! Please sister, please!?” 

“Many say he is a cruel man little Anna. Heartless even. Hell bent on revenge from years ago. And that he does not smile or laugh. I’m surprised he danced.” You sighed as you lowered your book and finally gave your attention to her. She was three years your junior, but you often treated her as a baby. She let her knees sink to the cold earth so that you both sat facing each other and Mariyanna clasped your hands together tightly. 

“His mother requested he dance so he could begin trying to find a suitable wife. Apparently, he won’t accept anything his family suggest so he is being given the freedom to choose. As long as she is suitable enough to join their family.” 

“He told you all this?” 

“No, his brother Aegon told me after he saw us dance for the second time.” 

“The drunk?” 

“Hush sister. But yes... that one. You would know all this if you attended!” She tried to glare at you in disappointment, but her smile was uncontainable. She was truly getting swept up in a fantasy that was created less than a day ago. You rolled your eyes at her comment before lifting your book back up. 

“You are a fool little sister.” 

“Imagine it though! Me! Marrying a prince and becoming a princess! I think I would fit well into that duty.” Her eyes glazed over as she imagined her possible future, but once she returned to reality, and quickly returned to begging. You groaned as your book was covered by the letter Prince Aemond had slid beneath her door, turning your nose up at the courting language. It was infected with imagery of nature and copious amounts of sentences comparing sweet Mariyanna to different flowers. You moaned in discomfort. 

“PLEASE!?” She cried. You did not want to. You loathed the idea. But you were always ready to do whatever your sister required, so with a sigh you wrote a letter in return. She complained it was not filled with enough declarations and promises of love and duty, but you simply waved her away. 

“You do not want to seem desperate for him. He will think you are only after his title.” And like always, your sister followed whatever you said. After that she sat wide-eyed as you quickly wrote down little sentences that quietly asked to be answered. You made small jokes about their previous night as you listened to your sister retell every moment in detail. The moment it was finished she bounced up quickly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.  

“I love you!” You had no time to reply before she spun on heel and raced up the grass hill, desperate to find a maid to deliver the letter. 

“That’s the only time Mariyanna!” You called out after her, but she was already gone. 

+++ 

It was only a day later that your little sister had come running back with a letter grasped tightly in her grip. This time she was interrupting your alone time in the library. 

“He replied!” She squealed before shoving you along the stone bench to sit beside you. You thanked the gods no one ever seemed to come to this part of the castle, as they much preferred the newly renovated library across the other side of the red keep. She gave no time for you to reply before it was shoved into your face. 

Mariyanna, 

I must apologize as there has been a mistake. I did not send any letter to you after our dances. I believe my mother has taken it upon myself to incite conversation between us. However, I quite enjoyed your reply, and I would like to talk more this evening. Please do me the pleasure of accompany me on a walk along the grounds. 

Prince Aemond 

“My letter has captured him! Can you believe it!? A prince!” You almost laughed at her. Almost.  

“Why are you here and not racing down to find him?” 

“I do not know what to talk about I need some tips. I know he studies philosophy and he read many books according to Lady Ariyanna. I need you to give me some talking points!” She begged. 

“You want talking points on books you’ve never read? Little Anna I am sure you must simply be yourself and he will fall in love with you. Do not mould yourself into something you are not. He would be a fool not to be enticed instantly for your charm and beauty.” You brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled at the delight that had consumed her entire being. 

“I know! And I won’t! I just need some extra wit. I need your brains. You are the most intelligent person I know. Just this once. Afterwards I shall use my own letters and interests.” You sat staring at one another for a second before you simply sighed. 

“Fine.” 

You had one hour to drill small jests and facts about your favourite books. You discussed quickly about Ten Thousand Ships and the journey Nymeria faced in her battle to be Queen. You kept it short and simply, but hoped it was enough for her to act out her silly little infatuation with the young prince. For your sister’s sake.   She could not sit still from the nerves of what was to come, and you swore there was no way she would recall everything. It felt she was hardly listening, but your sister was treating the whole thing quite seriously.  

When she left you, you moved to gaze out from the window and looked down to the gardens below. You had the perfect view of your nervous sister. She was cautious as she moved towards the looming figure of the prince, his arms crossed behind his back and his posture standing tall. He was looking upon the oak tree you had sat yesterday but turned as he realised your sister had crept forth. They bowed, and you imagined they greeted each other, before beginning the boring small talk that comes with meeting someone new. But when you saw your sister begin laughing, and his arm move to offer itself to her, you knew your tips had paid off.  

Moving away with a sigh, you returned to your book. 

That was all you would do for their courtship now. 

+++ 

You don’t know how your sister did it, but letter upon letter you had exchanged with Prince Aemond over the last few months. It quickly became easier than breathing. His interests were the same as yours, and his humour yours too. The books he suggested kept you enticed to the very last page, and he wrote that your recommendations happened to do the very same. You found him charming, however not overbearing, and you quickly realised you had dug yourself the deepest grave. You had never loved anyone.  

Until now. 

“Mention how I enjoyed his thoughts on Lies of the Ancients! Oh, and that I have come to agree the Starks made up all their stories to look really powerful!” You looked at your sister, disturbed by her ridiculous take.  

“I will not write that.” You muttered. You don’t remember how she coerced you in to writing this letter, yet here you were, scribbling stupid quips and more enticing conversation starter. 

“It was what Aemond told me. It will show I was listening!” 

“Mary, he is playing with you. No one regards Archmaester Fomas’s writing as anything more than an old man raving his madness to the masses. If he brought it up, I believe... well, I believe he was making a joke.” You grimaced at your sister, trying hard not to imagine her nodding along to Aemond Targaryen’s dry humour. 

“Oh.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, well write that I thought it was a funny jest.” She leaned her weight on to your back to get a full view of the stupid letter. You groaned beneath her with a huff but decided that you would mention that you knew he was jesting with his thoughts. You did not want your sister to come off as a halfwit. Or perhaps it was that you did not want him to think you a halfwit. 

“There. Mariyanna, I truly mean it when I say this is the last time, I shall do this. It does not feel right to mislead Prince Aemond.” You pushed the letter away in defeat for her to sign, which she happily scribbled on. You heart ached from the entire ordeal. At night you found yourself craving the idea of Aemond finding out the truth, but you also resented the idea of your sister being left broken. She brought the letter to her lips and placed a small kiss to the corner of it, leaving her lip paint to stain the very edge.  

“I know. I just don’t want to lose his attention. He is so tall and strong and princely. If it is not me who mothers his children, I do not know how I shall survive.” Her giggling was infectious, and you thought you hoped her happiness would never fade. So much so, you knew you were willing to give up your own for your sweet little sister.  

“Just... be careful little Anna. I worry you have fallen too deep into something that could implode in any moment.” You hoped she would heed your warning, but the youthfulness glee did not fade from her eyes, leaving you in doubt that she had even heard.   Her snickering suddenly came to a stop when the sound of the libraries grand door clicked open. You cursed inwardly, how many people were to invade the only peaceful part of the whole keep? She eyed you uncertainly and you quickly shrugged back in panicked confusion. She shrugged back at you even harder making you roll your eyes and point for her to see who had entered.  

“Why me?” She mouthed. You rolled your eyes and shoved her off her chair, leaving her no choice to silently toe towards the edge of the bookcase. Leaned forward in anticipation, you almost cried out in fright as she swung around in panic.  

“What!?” You hissed, bouncing to your feet in fear of whatever danger had entered. She quickly began shooing you away with her hands and began tidying the desk you had left sprawled with your readings. 

“Go!” She mouthed silently at you again. You angrily threw your hands up in frustration at her choice not to answer, but the sound of man clearing his throat halted your every movement. 

“My ears may deceive me, but I thought I heard your laughter, Lady Mariyanna.” Your jaw opened and closed in shock before you desperately began waving to your sister. 

“Not here!” You quietly begged her. You did not want to see. You did not need the image of him staring upon your sister and whispering in her ear. You wanted to preserve what you had with him in your stupid letters.  

“What do I do!? Why do I say I was in here for?” She grasped your shoulder and pulled you into her, shaking you for an answer. Stumbling in disbelief, you shook your head. You were both rattled by this turn of events, but you still could think unlike your sister. 

“Fucking reading you idiot!” You hissed, making her almost slap her forehead. 

“Right? Fuck what book?” She haphazardly began spinning on her spot, and you both desperately tried to find a book. 

“Let me come and find you, my prince!” She cried out in fake delight before staring at you franticly. You both shrugged violently at each other and began glaring in alarm.  

“You must leave. I will not be able to hide here long.” The sound of footsteps grew closer, leaving your sister no choice but to shove you away. 

“No need. Who I am to draw you away from your readings?” The voice called out. You stilled for a second over the calmness of his voice. 

“I’ll just read what you were reading.” She was alarmed by how close he was and quickly gave up the effort of finding a book. 

“No!” You cried out quietly as you stumbled behind the bookcase. She ignored your cry and left you to crouch down out of sight, biting your knuckle in shame for what was about to happen. You were secluded enough behind the shelves that you were hidden from the great Aemond Targaryen, but you found you had a perfect view of the meeting. You watched in trepidation as he slowly stepped to the table that your sister had managed to gracefully sit at, after she had calmed herself from the madness that had taken over you both. 

“My lady.” He bowed before her, leaving her nothing more than a blushing mess. If you had not have been in the clutches of utter panic at your precarious position, you would have rolled your eyes at her folly. 

“Prince Aemond. I did not expect you!” She was flustered by his towering figure leaning over her, and quickly moved to stand, but he gently lay a hand on her shoulder to keep her sitting comfortably before him. Breathing in deeply, he let his eye rake over the shelves making you quickly duck away from his gaze. It was a surprise your beating heart did not give you away for you swore every person in the kingdom could hear it. 

“No need for such formalities. It is I who has intruded upon your time; therefore, it is I who should be paying you the respect you deserve.” His tone did not match the sentiment as you had never heard such an unwavering, and proper speech come from any man in the court. No one could deny the authority that seeped from his very being, nor the power he held in his mere stance. Something quivered inside you at the sight of him, but it was in the most delicious way possible.  

“I do not consider it an intrusion my prince. I am always grateful for your company.” Mariyanna squeaked out, her face the deepest shade of pink you had ever seen. You wondered how she had managed to converse with him this far? 

“Please, you know I wish for you to call me Aemond.” The corner of his lip seemed to move upwards, and you wondered if that was his idea of a smile. Gazing upon his face, you found yourself struck by just how handsome the prince was. You had heard him to be described as frightening and dangerous, but no one had mentioned how sharp his jaw was. Your sister had informed you that his face simple, but pretty enough, and you felt the need to wring out her neck right then and there. How could she be so blind? 

“Yes, my prince.” Anna sighed out dreamily and this time not even the panic of the situation could stop you from rolling your eyes. 

“Are you enjoying your book?” Aemond enquired, reaching down and bringing the cover to his face. Your sister was too busy in her own realm of glee to notice the way his remaining eye widened in shock. You inwardly groaned. 

“Oh yes! I am learning so much! I really think it one of the greatest books ever written.” Your sister tried to feign interest, placing her chin upon her hand and smiling up at Aemond. You had groaned even louder in your head. It was a shock when Aemond let out a breathless chuckle. 

“Well... you continue to surprise me. Perhaps you shall have to tell me what you learn by the end." You could not blame Aemond for thinking your sister was being flirtatious because the book you had been reading was A Caution for Young Girls, a book banned from most libraries in the seven kingdoms for its erotica and sinfulness. It was infamous, so when it was passed back to your sister to look upon, even she knew what the novel was about. 

“Oh god no! Not me!” She cried out in shock before throwing it across the library franticly. She quickly began spewing out apologies for presenting such an ungodly object before Aemond, while he simply looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You do not need to worry. I shall not disclose it to anyone.” He tried to jest but it simply made her more frantic. 

“I’m sorry you see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father. see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father.” You did not miss the way she hissed, knowing fully well that she intended you to hear her anger. You flinched into yourself, mortified that the prince would now think you a sexual deviant before you were to even become acquainted. You had only wanted to know what all the fuss was about.  

“You have never mentioned a sister?” Perhaps Aemond was trying to defuse your sister’s panic, but the statement tugged at your heart hard. How had your sister not thought to mention you after all these meetings over these past few months. 

“Yes... well... she doesn’t leave her room much, you see? She, well everyone thinks she is quite simple.” The tug was so harsh you felt your entire heart shatter inside your ribcage. As if she heard, Mariyanna looked apologetically towards where you were hidden. Aemond was gazing solemnly out the window so you simply took the opportunity to make sure she could see the way your lifter your middle finger in her direction. 

“Cunt.” You mumbled, before quickly ducking once more as Aemond turned.  

“I understand. My brother is the simplest person in the entire seven kingdoms. It seems we have much in common.” This time he finally did smile down at your sister, who in return, linked her arms tightly in his. 

“Well at least we have each other to keep company.” She gazed up at Aemond from beneath her eyelashes, and you didn’t miss the way his eye softened.  

“I came here for a reason, actually.” He muttered; his gaze unbroken from hers. He frowned as she quickly moved her gaze to anywhere but his scarred skin that was hidden beneath his eye patch but continued anyways. “I wished to invite you to dinner with my siblings tonight. I would like to introduce you to my sister Heleana and younger brother Daeron. Unfortunately, Aegon will also be attending but perhaps you can invite your brainless sister to entertain him.” His description left you heart squeezed, drained of every drop of happiness and leaving it to bleed through his tight grasp. 

“She will be there. I’ll make sure of it. Now come, let us wonder the gardens! It is a beautiful day outside! Much too beautiful to be cooped up in here. It’s so dusty.” Your sister danced away merrily, happy to have succeeded in diverting away from a disastrous interaction. You swore you heard Aemond follow, so with a huff you stood straight and began stretching out your cramped limbs. When you gazed at the door, however, you saw him lingering, playing with the note you had written for him only moments ago. You watched the soft chuckle as he read it, and the way his demeanour seemed to lighten.  

“Continuing to surprise me.” He huffed, before slowly bringing the edge of it to his lips. The act was intimate, much to intimate for you to be gazing on. Stumbling back, you tried to remove yourself, but your skirt knocked down a book from a top its stack, and Aemond swung around in haste. You saw him begin stalking forward to find the source of the noise, making you cover your mouth and bite down hard on your palm.  

“Who goes there?” He whispered, prying his head around the bookcase. If Mariyanna was to renter, she would see Aemond standing above you, the only thing keeping you hidden was the books and cloths hanging over the shelf. You heard him inhale deeply, and for a moment you felt like prey being hunted by an animal. But she never came, and instead she called. 

“My Prince!” Her laughter floated about the room, making Aemond instantly straighten with a huff.  

“Hmmm.” He whispered, before turning and stalking off in her direction. You did not realised your skirt had been in plain view. 

+ 

Shamefully, you agreed to attend the meal with no argument. You would like to sit before Aemond once, even if it was to watch his courtship of your sister. Absolutely shameful. 

“I am happy you joined us, Mariyanna! My brother has talked a lot about you. A lot. Like all the time! Yesterday, I was showing him some art and he said it reminded him of this poem you had suggested he read. Even though he doesn’t like poetry. And, when you said you read that stupid book about ancient people lying, he was so amazed he didn’t shut up about it for a whole week! AND...”  

“Daeron, please, for the love of the gods shut up.” Helaena quipped up, placing a protective hand on Aemond’s sleeve. Daeron giggled mischievously, his childish humour leaving only him amused. The glare Aemond sent his way left him clutching hard at the table trying not to let himself howl out in delight. You were seated beside him, with Aegon boredly picking his teeth in the reflection of his soup spoon on you other side. Helaena was perched across from him but was seated beside her obviously favourite brother Aemond. Mariyanna was seated on his other side. This meant Aemond and yourself were seated directly across from one another, and due to Helaena forcing the dinner to be an intimate event, your legs were almost touching his under the small table. The heat that radiated off him, and the accidently touches of his long legs had you pressing your thighs together as tightly as possible.  

You do not know what possessed you to read that stupid book. 

“Thank you for being kind enough to invite me.” Your sister ducked her head in appreciation, and you quietly sighed as no one paid any mind to you. It was a shock, however, when you raised your gaze and saw Aemond staring upon you, as if analysing your very soul. Without a second thought, you stared at him in the exact same way.  

“Yes, my brother says you love all those stupid books. I’ve been trying to convince my mother to renovate that ancient library in the south corner of the keep and turn it into a theatre for us to watch plays. The commonfolk have some fucking hilarious skits.” Aegon laughed ignorantly, and you watched your sister laugh too. 

“Oh no!” Your words came before your thoughts, and everyone quickly turned to you. You quickly looked at your sister for some support only to see her looking at you in frustration. “My sister loves that library.” You coughed out, and Mariyanna quickly nodded in agreement.  

“It’s filthy. The new one is much nicer.” Aegon pointed out. Mariyanna kept nodding, getting confused with who she should comply with, but you shook your head. 

“It’s too busy. And it censors the books too much.” You muttered falling into your seat to try and hide yourself from the attention. Aemond chuckled at your words, before beginning to tap his fingers a top the table. 

“Yes. I hear you enjoy the restricted section of the library.” He smirked at you, thinking he knew a secret that you didn’t. Led to believe that he was alone in the library with your sister. But you were there, and you understood his words perfectly, leaving you reddened in shame. 

“Oh really? How obscene do you enjoy your novels?” Aegon was suddenly interested as he snaked his arm around your chair and leaned in with a grin. 

“Ugh.” You grunted out in disgust without thinking, leaving Mariyanna gasping in shock. 

“Forgive my sister she...” She was drowned out by the laughter the three siblings shared at the treatment of their brother. 

“Move away from her Aegon.” Aemond sighed. Aegon sighed in mock defeat, before turning his attention to swirling his wine. Looking away, you tried to turn your attention to your sister, but was caught by Aemond’s gaze once more. 

“You do not come to any of my mother’s dances, am I right?” Shifting nervously, you quickly shook your head. 

“I find my sister is much better at those types of things. I like to live through her little stories.” He hummed at your reply, before drawing his goblet to his lips. 

“And what do you do in your spare time? Write?” Your sister and you stared panicked at one another, before you quickly shook your head. Helaena stared confused at the three of your, but Aemond simply looked at you. Nowhere else. His eye was on you. 

“Not me.” The squeak of your voice mimicked that of your sister’s fluster under his gaze. Mariyanna was biting down hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry. She thought it obvious you had been caught. 

“I just noticed the ink stains on your fingers. It was a simple assumption.” You quickly hid your fingers in the sleeve of your gown and tried to think up an excuse. But everything thought seemed to evade you.  

“Not me.” You repeated quietly. The room fell silent for a moment, everyone staring between yourself and Aemond, but then you found yourself saved by the servants. The doors swung open as they swarmed in, carrying different trays of food and began arranging your feast on the small table. You quickly looked at your sister who widened her eyes in question. You simply widened your eyes back. You also did not understand what was happening.  

“I have been so hungry this whole time.” Daeron moaned as he began piling his plate with potato's. Everyone moved to reach for a dish, so you quickly reached for the spoon that was within the soup dish. It also happened to be the dish Aemond reached for leaving you both grasping onto the tips of each other's fingers instead of the spoon. You quickly pulled back and cradled your hand with widened eyes. The touch had sent a sensation down your entire being, even all the way to your toes, leaving you with no choice but to curl them up inside your slippers.  

“Apologies.” You choked out, looking down shamefully. You cursed yourself in embarrassment, declaring to yourself that he really will think you simple and brainless at the end of this dinner. He simply hummed at your regret, before lifting your bowl towards him. Without a word, he poured you a serving before returning it to you. No words were spoken as you nodded in appreciation.  

+++  

The dinner had gone smoothly after that. Perhaps smoothly wasn’t the right word. You had to cradle Mariyanna in your arms as she had spent the whole time after sobbing. Aemond had not paid her much attention to her, and she thought it obvious he had figured out that it was you who had captured him all those months ago. 

“Shhh you do not know that to be true.” 

“I do! I saw the way he was looking at you.” You had patted down her hair in comfort as she shook in your arms. You could not celebrate at the idea that Aemond might have figured it out because you heart ached for your sister. 

“Even if he has figured out that it was I that was writing the letters, it does not mean he did not fall for you after all those hours he spent courting you.” You tried to reassure her, but her broken cries only got louder. 

“I could tell he did not like our talks. I am not dumb. I knew when I laughed at the wrong times and disagreed and agreed on his thoughts mistakenly. I knew he only liked me because of your letters. I just thought with more time he might grow fond of me.” You shushed her crushed sobs and pressed a kiss atop her head. 

“If he did not grow fond of your little Anna, then he is a fool.” You whispered. She lay in your arms a little longer, before letting out a long exhale. She quickly sniffed, before sitting herself up and wiping her eyes. 

“It is okay.” She whispered, pinching her cheeks and quickly blinking away her tears. You were shocked by her sudden change of demeanour, but she ignored you and moved to her window. With a frown you slowly stood, scared any sudden movement would break her once more. 

“Mary...” 

“Veron Greyjoy has asked me to wed him. I think I shall accept it.” She gazed out, as if she had not mentioned something so immense.  

“What?” You rushed to her side, but she simply sighed at you like you were an idiot. Clasping your hands with hers, she finally looked at you. 

“My courtship with Aemond was flawed. I had to make sure I had other options. Of course, marrying a prince of Westeros was the ideal option but I was not dumb enough to think there was a certain likeliness of me wedding him. Unlike you, I do not mind if I marry for security. So, I entertained some men on the side. I have had a few other proposals of course, but I enjoy Veron’s company the most.” You could not speak from the shock of her news, but Mary simply kissed your fingers. 

“What of Aemond?” 

“He was kind, of course. And I would have been happy to wed him because I believe he shall make a wonderful husband. But I do not love him.” Disbelief. It is all that you felt. But you should not have been surprised. Your baby sister was born to thrive amongst the court, and you were a fool for thinking her dim-witted. Perhaps she was a greater schemer than Otto Hightower? 

“You’re fucking insane.” You let out a breathless laugh, as you stumbled to leave her room. 

“At first I was committed to him.” She called. You turned back to look at her smirking face. “But I started looking elsewhere when I saw you sign one of those letters with your own name.” Staring at her with a gaping mouth, you could not believe what was happening. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You muttered defensively. It only made her chuckle. 

“You have my permission.” 

“For what!?”  

“You may let him court you. I know you love him. And who am I to get in the way of that? I do not remember a time you showed interest in any man.” She smiled lovingly at your blushing form while you stood spluttering out sentences of denial. 

“He is a prince.” You finally whispered in defeat. You could never hide anything from her. 

“And you shall be a fine princess.” 

+++ 

You could not sleep after your talk with your sister. You had spent your night twisting and turning under the moonlight that streamed in from your window. So, with a huff, you found yourself marching to the library in a robe. Carrying a candle and allowing your hair to flow freely as your bare feet slapped upon the stone hallways, you were sure to have looked like a madwoman, but you were to frazzled to care. It was only when you made it into your hideaway within the library, that you finally allowed yourself to relax. You began lighting the candles upon the walls so that you had enough light to read and allowed yourself to reach for the book Ten Thousand Ships. During your exchanges with Aemond, you had spent many letters discussing Nymeria and her reign over Dorne. It was your favourite piece of literature, and it was his too. 

You couldn’t read. You tried. Gods you tired. But the longer you stared at a page, the more distorted the words became. Instead, your mind was only on Aemond.  

“You deceived me.” The sudden voice that came from between the shelves made you scream in shock. The book dropped as you quickly pushed yourself back in fear. But it only took a moment to be reminded whose voice that was. You watched as Aemond stepped forth from the shadows, still in his leather pants from dinner, but now just a sheer white undershirt covering his torso. The candlelight illuminated his face as he moved forward, and you breath hitched at the sight. He no longer had his eyepatch strapped up, but instead he left his missing eye bare for you to see. You expected a sunken hole where his missing eye once was, but the light caught on the sapphire, and you watched it glisten. You were awed, and when he noticed you did not look away from his scarring, he could not help but look upon you fondly. Swallowing your anxiousness, you simply bowed your head. 

“I am sorry Aemond. Truly.” You cursed yourself for being so informal and allowing yourself to call him by his name, and when you watched him clench then unclench his fists, you thought you had already ruined everything. 

“I could have you arrested for such fraudulence.” He muttered beneath his breath, making your neck bow even further. You felt tears spring to the corners of your eyes while you tried to gain composer. 

“It is true. And perhaps I deserve it. I did not intend for it to go this far.” Your breath was shaky as you exhaled your words and allowed yourself to slowly lift your gaze. You expected to see Aemond glaring, full of hatred at the revelation that he had been played a fool, but he was simply looking down at you with an amused smile. 

“I jest. I shall not have you arrested.” He apologised with a smirk, and this time your heart began to race for different reasons. No longer were you in fear of imprisonment, for now all you care for was the way Aemond Targaryen was standing above you in hardly any clothes, while you were sitting on the ground like a peasant with no shoes and untidy hair. You could not look away from the way his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and it was at that moment that you realise how unkept it was. It looked as if he had run his fingers through it a million times and in different directions. 

“I could find no sleep.” You whispered. He exhaled a breath and let out a soft hum. 

“Neither could I. My mind is... preoccupied.” You nodded in understanding and felt your heart soar from your chest. You were no fool. You know what was happening. 

“Will you sit with me?” You suggested as you began clearing away the books you had scattered across the floor. Aemond did not need to think as he gracefully dropped to his knees and allowed himself to fall to your side. Trying to make yourselves comfortable, he let his hand stretch you behind you, and you were quick to fall into his side. 

“Are you still reading A Caution for Young Girls?” You felt yourself choke at his jest, before allowing yourself to laugh.  

“No. I finished it.” You smirked while pulling your book back into your lap. “Hmmm. A shame.” He whispered, leaving a tingling sensation running down your spine. 

“I found it... enlightening.” You smirked as you ran your thumb across your lower lip. You felt him push his nose in your hair and you both couldn’t help but smile. You let out something between a moan and a laugh, before holding up Ten Thousand Ships. 

“I believe you are familiar?” You teased. He let his teeth draw in his bottom lip quickly before chuckling at your question. 

“I know something of it.” You went to turn the next page but stopped as you felt him move your wild hair to the side. 

“Let us start again.” He whispered. Reaching down to your hand, he pulled up your fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I am Aemond Targaryen, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” 

[shanastoryteller]

SHANA HAPPY PRIDE U AWESOME LADY! Can I please maybe get some merlin content? Either time travel Ygraine or something else entirely!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

His mother is here.

Not an illusion, or a ghost, but his actual mother - confirmed by his father and his knights and Gaius.

She looks like him. Or he looks like her, he supposes. He's fruitlessly searched for himself in his father's face enough times that seeing himself so easily in her is almost jarring.

They have the same hair, they same eyes, the same lips. She scrunches her nose and scowls and it's like looking into a mirror, not even necessarily what she looks like but how she moves.

It explains a lot of looks he's gotten from his father over the years over seemingly innocuous gestures and comments.

After ordering Gaius to find some wizards, she insists on going for a walk in the woods, since too many people seeing her could cause a commotion and she insists that if she has to look at his father's face she's going to beat it.

He'd thought his father was the strong willed one between them. In his mind, his mother had always been docile, because that's the only way he thought anyone could manage a life alongside his father. The reality is better, and more entertaining.

Merlin is still here, trailing awkwardly behind them, but Arthur doesn't tell him to leave because a part of him is anxious over being left alone with his mother.

"Sorry about that display in the throne room," she says, as if reading his thoughts. "Sometimes Uther needs some sense knocked into him, for the good the kingdom. And our marriage."

"It's okay," he says, because it's not like she'd given him more than bruises. "Did you - did you mean it? What you said about magic?"

"Oh, Arthur," she sighs, squeezing his arm. "I'm so sorry you grew up without it. You'd understand if you'd been raised how I wanted you raised."

"How was that?" he asks, desperate and clumsy and not caring because he wants to know so badly.

She softens, looking at him with something warm and affectionate that he's only caught glimpses of behind his father's eyes. "I understand that she changed, after my - my death. But Nimueh was my best friend. You would grown up with magic in every facet of your life, it would have been there in kitchen helping the bread rise and on the training grounds to treat your wounds, it would have been - did you know, I was pregnant before?"

He looks at her, wide eyed, then shakes his head. He knows so little about his mother, only what other people have told him, and so few people are willing to speak of her and upset his father.

"A few times, actually," she continues, mouth twisting bitterly. "But this one got rather far along, we thought we were going to finally - but it wasn't to be. But we were so hopeful, already planning, and Nimueh had carved and enchanted these wooden butterflies to fly above the baby's basinet, to keep them entertained. I still have them, because after, she said to keep them, that one day I would have a child and I'd need them." She lets out a watery laugh. "I imagine Uther had them destroyed, so you never got their benefit. But that's what magic is, Arthur. It's just another way for the people around us to love us, even if it's a bit differently."

His throat is dry and he doesn't know what to say, but he licks his lips and forced out, "I probably could have used it. I was a fussy baby. Really - really, just, always crying, never sleeping through the night, I always needed someone's attention. I apparently drove several nursemaids to tears."

"Did you really?" she asks, trying to laugh, but it comes out eager, and he can't blame her for it.

The same reason that he knows nothing about her is why she'll know nothing about him, why the only way she has to know what he was like as a baby is if he tells her.

She dies giving birth to him, after all.

[sgiandubh]

Third time's a charm, I suppose

I have addressed the Gay Troll problem at least twice. First time, here, when I explained how the open source content of the Wikipedia entry for SRH has been doctored and tinkered with, in an attempt to provide some sort of 'self fulfilling prophecy' evidence towards that particular troll's agenda: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729380092203122688/autopsy-of-a-gay-lie-the-wikipedia-trail?source=share (September 2023). And then again, more briefly, this spring, when I was very surprised to find a childish nickname I gave to a particularly clingy 'paramour,' where I least expected it - on Data Lounge: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/744961079626678273/fool-me-once-fool-me-twice?source=share (March 2024).

What makes Data Lounge particularly crass is the zero accountability policy. This seems to be explicitly encouraged by the website, with no visible usernames and apparently no traceability of its submitted content. Literally anyone can go there and label anyone else (well, you'd have to be at least a C-lister to make it), often with crude innuendo and always with zero evidence. The dynamic seems to be an endless tug-of-war between an ABG (Anything But Gay) troll, who furiously reminded many of a well-known Tumblr cuckoo and two (three, at most) ABS (Anything But Straight) users, who constantly call her names. Actually, this is how I dubiously educated myself into knowing what a frau (which I think comes from the benign German noun Hausfrau, or housewife) means:

[Source, LOL: https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=frau)

Parts of this long submission sounded familiar, though:

(Source: https://www.datalounge.com/thread/32646548-closeted-outlander-actor-sam-heughan.-part-21)

LOL, really? Compare and discuss, please:

(Of course it's me! https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/756524589763477504/hello-i-have-a-new-drinking-game-suggestion-if)

Until very recently, Data Lounge Anons were endlessly quoting the Fascist's and the Gay Troll's blogs only, in an attempt to show there is a debate on their obsessive topic, after all.

But desperation must be skyrocketing, since they now started to quote a (why be a hypocrite?) widely read shipper (!) blog, who never wrote anything but the contrary of what they stand for. It's not even flattering, guys: it's so lame, I could cry.

So, let me get this straight, here (yeah, pun totally intended): is this (part of) your intel? My blog?

Excuse me, but 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣.

Sweet Lord on a motorbike, some people are in dire need of a life of their own!

Forgive me, Father, for I have just sinned - but I swear it was for the cause! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[hotreadingwitch]

Daemon x Reader - Wedding Night

Content Warnings/Kinks: scratching, hickeys, praise kink, degradation (light), dominance, breeding kink, squirting, multiple rounds/orgasms, oral sex, unprotected sex

Wedding Night

Y/n walked into the grand bedroom, her new husband Daemon Targaryen trailing behind her. She heard his footsteps stop in front of the open window, turning, she saw him staring up at the moon. 

"A beautiful wedding night don't you think darling?" He asked, a smirk on his lips.

Standing in front of the bed, she beckoned to him. As if mesmerized he came forward, placing his firm hands on her fabric-clad hips. Her heart fluttered when he smirked down at her, their height difference apparent. She reached forward, hooking her finger on the waistband of his pants.

"So eager darling" he chuckled lightly, "But if we're going to do this we're going to do it right..." 

She looked at him quizzically, eyes widening when he pushed her down onto the bed, shifting their bodies until her back was up against the many pillows in front of the headboard. He then scrunched the material of her dress until it was up around her waist. She tensed as she waited, the anticipation of Daemon kneeling before her on the bed was enough to make her bare pussy slick with need. 

"Can I touch you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

She nodded. 

"Darling" he chastised, shaking his head slowly before looking at her with a desperate fire in his eyes, "I require a yes or no"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice wavering. 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes" she repeated more confidently, "Yes, Daemon please" 

He slunk down in front of her until half of his face was covered by her. She sighed immediately at the feeling of his tongue teasing her, making her head sink back into the pillows. His strong hands spread her legs, opening them wide so that he could please her further. She looked down, her breath hitching as she made contact with his stormy, sunken eyes. 

"Uh," she moaned softly, her hips grinding up and down, beginning to match the rhythm of his tongue on her clit.

Daemon continued, licking at her sensitivity, creating a feeling like no other in her lower stomach. She sighed at the pleasure, her back arching upward off the mattress as she squirmed under his patient tongue. Y/n then gasped as she felt cold fingers beginning to tease her hole. 

"Mmm," she groaned at the feeling. 

She could feel her insides tightening up as his fingers teased her entrance and his mouth wrapped around her sensitive clit. The combined feelings made her roll her hips, moving with his every movement.

"That's the spot huh?" He cooed, smirking as her eyes rolled back at the feeling of his fingers curling just within her soaking wet hole.

"Daemon..." she whimpered.

He then returned his godly mouth to her clit, licking and sucking, pleasing her in every way until she burst, her cum sticking to his pale fingers. 

"Oh," she threw her head back, eyes rolling back.

He licked and kissed her clit while teasing her hole until the waves of her orgasm subsided. When he was done he rose up, towering over her panting frame. She watched intently as he took his fingers, coated with her slick, bringing them to his mouth. His eyes rolled back as he tasted her. 

"You know darling" he smirked, "I've pleased a hundred whores in my time but tasting you, it is the honour of my life"

Y/n's eyes widened, "Don't joke" she pouted.

He came forward, grinding down onto her so that she could feel his cock tight and hard in his pants.

"I wouldn't dare" 

This time when she grabbed desperately at his pants, he didn't protest, letting her undress him. She undid his armour, and flung his loose shirt and his bottoms across the room, staring at the items that littered the floor. 

"May I?" He questioned, gesturing to her dress, dragging her attention back to him. 

She nodded and he pulled the fabric off of her, caressing her body gently as he did, the calluses on his strong hands brushing against her sensitive flesh. He tossed her dress over his shoulder, letting it join his clothes on the cold stone. 

Y/n parted her folds, holding them open for him. He grunted, turned on by the sight. Daemon lined himself up with her hole before pushing into her, his strong hands digging into the flesh of her hips, keeping her steady. He paused, bottoming out in her pussy for a moment, his balls hitting where her ass cheeks met. She moaned as he pulled back out, slamming back into her, beginning his relentless pace. Y/n could feel the tip of his hard cock pulsing within her warm pussy each time it hit her cervix. 

"D-Daemon" she grunted, butterflies rising within her immediately. 

"That's right darling" he cooed, grinding into her pussy. 

She moaned even louder when his fingers, slicked with salvia, made their way to her clit, rubbing in small circles. 

As he continued to thumb her clit, his thrusts only went deeper and deeper, pounding into her sensitive pussy. She was sopping wet, her juices practically bursting out the sides of her pussy as he thrust. Daemon was filling her completely, fully. She felt grateful for every inch of his considerable length as it slammed in and out of her. 

Soon, she was overcome. His thumb did not leave her clit, rubbing at it until it felt numb, helping her orgasm to come closer and closer with every flick and stroke combined.

"Yeah cum for me-ugh-that's it darling, that's it" he groaned, allowing her pussy to milk his cock, tightening around it as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. 

"Ahh" she cried, her knees buckling and her back arching as the feeling surged forward, overwhelming her.

She moaned, eyes squeezing shut, as she came undone around his pounding cock. Her body shuddered but Daemon held her in place, fucking each wave of pleasure out of her.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned like a quiet chant into his ear, letting the pleasure wash over her. 

"That one was just for you darling" he growled as he thrust at an even faster speed, "This one will be for me..." 

He continued as she came until her insides began to release a completely different feeling, liquid bursting out of her pussy causing him to pull out, panting. He slid back in and she mumbled his name, lost to the feeling. 

"Shit" he cursed gruffly, his sweaty body heavy on top of hers as he slid back in. 

He pumped in and out of her three more times, throwing his head forward into the crook of her neck. He sucked on her sensitive skin as he thrust, leaving marks, marks that would prove to the court that she was wholly his and his alone. She shivered, her breath hitching as she felt him filling her gushing pussy with his seed.

"Mmmm" she groaned, gripping tightly onto his strong shoulders, leaving marks as she dug into his pale skin. 

He pulled back, looking her in the eye, "Look at you taking me so well, such a perfect little cum slut"

She nodded obediently, squeezing herself around him until he'd poured every last drop of his milky white substance into her. 

"That's a good girl" he grunted before pulling out of her, watching with pride as she tightened, keeping all of his cum inside her. 

Daemon bent forward then, kissing up from her jaw until he met her lips with his own. 

"Mm," she sighed into the kiss, sliding her arms around his strong torso. 

"Thank you my darling" he then said, leaning back, and offering her a small smile. 

"Of course" she chuckled, smiling back up at him, running her fingers through his white hair, "What else would we do on our wedding night".

[harrysmmm]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Draco Malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Summary: Y/N Riddle was raised by Druella Black, her father vanished from the living in an attempt of killing Harry Potter, her mother remained a mystery to the girl. On her fifteenth birthday, the Dark Lord rises from the dead and commends her a mission: to find the Relics of Hogwarts within the castle and to bring them back to him, for his life depends on them. Y/N attends the sixth year at Hogwarts - students are curious about her because of her apparent connection to the former student Cedric Diggory, the golden trio suspects her and tries to dismantle her plan and Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin boy she grew up with, starts feeling maybe something more than just childhood affection. Objects to find, people to trust, feelings to understand, and a bloodline to hide. The Heir of Slytherin is back.

Started: 27th of June 2023 Finished: -

Spotify playlist of the fanfiction (if you really want to get in the vibe of it). I will be updating it as I write it.

ao3 link of the fanfiction

Chapters:

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 - 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚

masterlist here

Some notes:

The story is based on the 6th movie of Harry Potter. The plot will be nearly the same, although this fanfiction adds the plot of the reader - which intertwines with the original one.

Draco's relationship with Y/N is important, but it is not everything. This fanfiction will revolve around the main plot of Y/N's commended mission, her desperate need of finding her mother among others. If you're only looking for Draco and Y/N content during the entire reading, you will not find it here. Everything for the plot, am I right?

I won't set any age requirements because I know you guys don't really listen to that. But I find myself in the position to warn you that you're likely to find things such as: sexual explicit content, swearing, struggles with mental health, and maybe some twisted sad moments. If you enjoy the intensity, you might really enjoy this.

If you want to contact me about the fanfiction (talk about it, ask for more updates aha, suggest something) you can do it through the comment section or my inbox. I'll gladly reply, I love replying!

Also, please do not copy, translate it, claim it as your own. It is not fun, nor acceptable. If you want to translate, get in contact with me beforehand!

The rights to the Wizarding World, the plot of the book, and most characters go to J.K. Rowling, of course.

(I will add more things if they come up - so, don't hesitate to come back to this page throughout the reading)

Thank you so much for reading. This fic is for you <3

[bysaber]

Picking the perfect tree ft. Obito Uchiha

Day 02 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — obito uchiha, an exiled war criminal, doesn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with a tree.

word count — 807

content — fluff, post-war!obito (he survived because I wanted him to), he’s a sad boi, longing, friends to lovers kinda

notes — hai! second fic of many I hope ^_^ obito is my fav boy and this isn’t the only fic I’ll write for him in this event even though I know not many people simp for him. on a second note, I’m really hoping I can write all the 31 days. send me good luck! <3

“I don’t see the point.”

Obito stood by your side with crossed arms, his puzzled eyes watching you cautiously as you analyzed a pine tree as if it were the most important and interesting thing in the world.

Maybe it was, but he didn’t get it.

“Nah, this one is not good enough,” you stated, at last.

He sighed, more lost than ever, not complaining when your gloved hand closed around his wrist and dragged him further into the forest.

“They all look the same to me,” he observed. “Sure, some are smaller and have fewer branches, but they’re just… trees?”

Your giggle didn’t go unnoticed by him and, as usual, it warmed his body in that unfamiliar way, his stomach fluttering from this all-new sensation.

No, not new.

Obito knew exactly what feeling was that; something he felt when he was just a foolish kid, the feeling that made him try harder to impress someone, that got him all messy and blushy and kissing portraits.

The feeling that created longing and, eventually, created hate.

Looking back, what was Obito doing if not trying desperately not to forget what it was like to feel like that? Starting a war to feel it again, even if it weren’t real.

Countless mistakes in the name of love, and Obito just accepted he wasn’t deserving of such a thing – love.

And yet, you stood there in front of him. Picking a damn tree for whatever reason, and making him feel all over again.

After being forgiven but exiled to a distant village, there you were. You knew his crimes and yet you showed up at his door every day, convincing him to take a walk with you until you became friends.

And today you showed up smiling like always, “Hey, let’s buy a tree for your house.”

And there you were.

“I liked the way you described the trees, so I’ll trust your eyes,” you said after a while, apparently conflicted. “I don’t know if we should pick this one or that one, which one is taller and has more branches?”

He wanted to laugh at you and your silliness, but eventually gave up, “That one.”

You smiled widely at him and, even though he wanted to scream at you to stop making him feel like that, he smiled shyly back at you.

Quickly talking to the couple who ran the tree business, you paid them while Obito seemed lost in thoughts and you brought the tree home with the help of some ninjas that worked there.

When the tree was installed in a corner of his living room and the two of you were left alone again, he blinked slowly with a blank expression, “I still don’t get it. Why do I need a tree inside my house?”

He was so clueless it was cute and you couldn’t help but laugh, flustering him further, “You’re such a dork, Obito! Let me finish this, ok?”

With red hot cheeks, he hummed in agreement as you placed your backpack on the table and started pulling out a lot of weird things.

Weird, but beautiful things.

He eyed you curiously as you circled the tree with some sort of wire he couldn’t distinguish, wondering what that was for, and then you started putting beautiful decorations on the branches. It didn’t take long for the tree to come to life, bringing some sort of comfort to his dead house.

“Can you help me?” you asked after a while and he nodded, standing up as you handed him a star. “Put it on the top of the tree, please. I can’t reach it.”

He did exactly as he was told – he still didn’t understand what it was for but it was incredibly beautiful and, foremost, done by you.

When the star was placed he looked at you, then at the tree, and back at you, “It looks–”

“Wait! There’s still one thing for you to see before you say anything,” you interrupt him as you run to plug in the tree lights.

When you finally did and the tree lightened up, Obito got taken aback by the beauty of it all. All the colors and decorations came together, lighting up his living room and warming his heart. Something you did for him.

“Here in the village, we celebrate something called Christmas, a time to be reunited with people we love and celebrate. This is a Christmas tree, but there’s so much more I can show you,” you finally explain. “And I was hoping we could celebrate Christmas together.”

Obito looked down, tears burning his eyes without a warning. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve said tendering his soul like a remedy on every open wound he had.

It felt like he’d found the love he had reached for, for so long.

“Yes… yes, we can.”

[shootingstarpilot]

An Interlude on Melidaan

(Please check the tags for content warnings!)

Stitch is sitting with Helix when he gets the call.

Helix had woken up for just long enough to squint, recognize Stitch, mutter something about his head having been trampled by a herd of banthas, and pass out again- enough to reassure Stitch that the surgery had gone smoothly. He doesn't like it when any of them are out of commission, but it had been agreed that de-chipping the medics was a priority so they could facilitate removals of the rest of the 212th when they were underway again.

Helix had volunteered first, with an expression that forbade disagreement. Needle's in pre-op now, Stitch knows- he'd hugged him tight and had told him not to worry, and Stitch had nodded against his chest and had told him he was going to worry anyway because that's what you did for your brothers, and Needle's smile had gone all soft around the edges before he'd vanished down the hall.

Stitch has a very long list of things you do for your brothers, and the list grows longer by the day.

And right behind worrying for your brothers is going to them when they need you.

"Needle?"

He knocks once, twice, three times before a steady voice tells him to come in.

He does.

Needle is sitting on the edge of the gurney, pale-faced, hands clutching the blanket under him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Another person- Stitch had seen her at Jess's side, but had missed her name- is standing a safe distance away, head tilted back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stitch blinks. "What happened?"

Needle laughs, hoarse and hurting. "Nothing yet," he mutters. "I- can't. Apparently."

He shifts. "Sorry about your nose, Rittan."

The surgeon- Rittan- is olive-skinned and square-jawed and has a knot of scar tissue sealing shut the socket where her left eye should be. She wrinkles her nose assessingly, drops her hand, and waves Needle's apology off as she settles into her chair.

Stitch likes her immediately.

"Don't be," she says easily. "I've had worse. I once called a total evac when Bretta tossed me an apple and I saw a grenade. We've all got our own twitches."

It takes Stitch a moment to make the connection.

To realize why he's here.

And then he looks again at Needle's pale face and thinks-

Oh.

Needle glances up.

"I- can't," he bursts out. "I thought I could, but I- can't. I can't have- I can't-"

He stops. His shoulders sag.

"I can't," he repeats helplessly. "I can't. I want it out. I can't."

"But you know-"

"Yeah."

"And that it could-"

"I know."

"Or even-"

"Stitch."

Stitch's mouth snaps shut. Needle winces.

"I... know," he says slowly. "I do. I want it out. I want it out. I want it out."

He stops. Presses his hands hard against his eyes.

"I was this close to lying to both of you," he says eventually. "Tell her I'd get it done on the ship. Tell you I'd gotten it done here. And just-"

He shrugs. Helpless. Hurting.

"It could wipe you away," Stitch says desperately, and regrets it immediately when Needle's whole body jerks.

"So maybe I'll just sit here until the end of fucking time, then," Needle snaps, "because I can't let it stay in my brain but I can't let anyone else's fingers in there either! Not-"

He stops.

Stitch's whole chest hurts.

Not again.

"Sorry," Needle says hoarsely. "Sorry. I- hell. Rittan suggested calling someone, but- you can go. I'll figure it out. You can-"

Stitch has stopped listening.

A slow plan is bubbling to life in the back of his mind.

"Needle," he interrupts, "you trust me, right?"

"I- what? Of course-"

"And you want it out?"

Needle curls inwards, hugging himself.

"I don't want it to happen again, Stitch," he whispers, and Stitch nods.

Needle trusts him. Needle wants it out.

He can't let it be taken out.

But he wants it out.

Okay.

"I am going to get you something to drink," he says decisively. "Because hydration is important. While I think. You'll stay here?"

He's met with a wan smile. "Cross my heart."

Stitch hesitates.

(But Needle does this all the time. And it's- nice.)

After a beat, he cups Needle's face in his hands, leans down, and carefully presses a kiss to his forehead.

Needle's eyes are very wide, when he looks down.

"Did I do that right?" Stitch asks, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous.

Needle's smile looks more like Needle, this time. "Perfect."

Oh.

That's-

That's good.

Right.

The plan.

He returns with a cup of grape juice.

(Needle trusts him.)

He hands it to Needle.

(Needle trusts him.)

Needle drinks, without a second's hesitation.

(Needle trusts him.)

Stitch catches both him and the cup.

"Pretty strong grape juice," Rittan observes.

She's- watching him.

Stitch meets her gaze. "Propofol," he says quietly. "Grape juice so he won't associate it with water later. I'll be your second."

Another item on the list of things you do for your brothers:

The things they can't.

Stitch is largely silent, as Rittan narrates every step.

Watching.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

At one point:

"There's a lot of scarring," Rittan observes. "More than I'd have expected."

"Yes," Stitch says, and does not elaborate.

Needle is moved to recovery.

Stitch settles down next to him.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Needle's breathing shifts into something shallower. Faster.

Stitch knows panic when he sees it, and pokes him. "Needle."

"Mmph."

"Needle," Stitch repeats, and pokes him again.

"...'ch?"

"Yes. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

A moment of stillness. He sees Needle's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, hears his breathing hitch-

"Needle. Needle. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

Needle's hands flex, curling into the sheet-

"'s a trick question," he manages. "Y'got two."

"What're the two, then?"

"...Blue. 'N tall."

"See?" Stitch whispers, smiling when Needle's eyes crack open and focus on him. "Still you. Still my Needle."

Needle's brow furrows, puzzled. "You..."

Stitch sits on his hands to stop himself from tapping.

"Stitch...?"

"Propofol in the grape juice," he whispers. "You couldn't. So I did."

A beat. A slow nod.

"Are you angry?"

A slow smile spreads across Needle's face.

"Good medic," he sighs, closing his eyes again, and Stitch carefully leans forward and rests his head on Needle's chest.

Feeling him breathe.

"I learned from the best," he whispers, and Needle's free hand reaches upwards and settles in his hair.

It'll be his turn in a bit, he knows. But Rittan will come and find him.

He's got time.

Needle's asleep by the time Stitch senses someone at the door.

He shifts as much as he can without disturbing Needle and looks up, expecting Rittan-

"Hey," Helix says quietly. He's leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright. "Everything go okay?"

Stitch nods.

There's a lump in his throat.

Helix pushes himself up and makes his way over, his gaze flickering towards the monitors. He stops at Needle's side, brushes his hair back-

Then he leans down and drops a kiss on his forehead.

Quick and swift as anything.

He keeps one hand there when he turns to Stitch.

"Rittan asked me to call you," he says quietly. "You want company?"

Stitch shakes his head. "You have to stay here. With Needle. Okay?"

A faintly puzzled smile flickers across Helix's face as he settles into the other chair. "Okay, Stitch. Second bed in here's free, too- I'll make sure it stays that way for you."

"Thanks, Helix," Stitch says. He gathers himself, stands, makes his way towards the door-

Then he pauses. "Did Needle get that from you?"

Helix glances up. "Get what?"

"The forehead kisses. He's good at those."

Helix snorts a laugh. "Doubt it. I think he was kind before he got here."

Stitch nods.

He thinks so, too.

[inglourious-imagines]

Hello! I'm so glad to have stumbled on your blog! I'd like to request anything for Doc Bryan of GenKill please. I can and will wait forever for any Doc content 😅 I saw your prompt list and I think

1. I fucking hate everyone. But you, you’re the only person I don’t hate.

would suit him quite well HAHA but prompt number 3 and prompt number 9 would be quite sweet too 😁 anyway, anything you write I will gratefully read and love. Thanks so much!

Life Vest (Doc Bryan x GN!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Prompt: #1 - I fucking hate everyone. But you, you're the only person I don't hate.

Summary: You're a Corpsman with the Recon Marines, working alongside doc Bryan. After one tough afternoon, you two finally (somewhat ;)) talk.

Taglist: in my bio

Warnings: child's death although it doesn't actually happen in this fic

A/N: I don't study medicine so I might have fucked up some facts about certain things so apologies if I did. Thank you for your request!

.

.

.

With every passing second, more and more locals are appearing, surrounding the group of Marines in the middle of some Iraqi town almost none of them know how to actually pronounce. From behind the cornerns of ruins of old buildings, out of the beaten doors of houses that hadn't been bombed yet, from small huts, children, women, men of all ages are coming to see what is happening.

The small area is slowly getting too crowded to have it under control and Lt. Fick is pacing around the scene unfolding before his eyes with apparent unease. US Marines are stationed around the place, but all of them know it is not enough. 

Fick waves his left hand and within a second he has Brad Colbert by his side, awaiting orders. 

"Get Bryan and Y/N out of there. We can't handle this anymore. We need to be Oscar Mike ASAP."

Brad only nods and he's already pushing his way through the crowd that seems to be made of concrete rather than people, as the young soldier struggles to advance forward.

In the centre of it all, kneeling on the ground, with blood soaked into the sand, are the two exhausted Corpsmen. 

"The children are going to die here." Bryan states matter-of-factly without even looking up, while he's bandaging the young boy who can't be more than seven years old. 

You know that but the words still send a chill down your spine, but you continue working too, without the apparent pointlessness of the reality to stop you.

You always know the facts after observing the situation, just like Bryan does, but you've never been able to announce it with such distance and certain cold even, even though you know it is necessary. 

Robert Timothy Bryan is a straightforward man, a trait useful in the Corps and you've learned over the time to report the situation to your superior officers, but you still lack that sort of Bryaness and you probably always will. 

You allow yourself to steal a glance at him. He's concentrated at the work before him, as he always is, the look of focus in his eyes more visible than ever. His face doesn't show any other emotion much, but you know he's exhausted beyond words, physically and mentally, although he would never admit to that out loud. 

You come back to the little boy under your arms. He has two fractured ribs, that are causing him great pain but you are simply unable to do anything about it, he has one bad scratch on his left arm and a deep cut on his thigh - there is no serious bleeding and it is apparent that it must have been some time since he got wounded.

You cut off a part of his trousers to get a better access to the wound and you immediately notice the bloody spots and bruises. 

You pick up your gaze to look at Bryan to find him already staring at you. You both know what this means, there is no need to say it out loud.

You look back down at the little boy, there are tears in his brown eyes and suddenly there's a lump in your throat. You desperately want to help the kid, but no matter what you do, nothing will be enough. The blood poisoning will kill him, you don't know when, he has only some hours to live tops, if he's lucky, and so far his fate has played a cruel game with him.

Then his little hand reaches for yours and you instinctively squeeze it. You hear in the background some voice saying something, you don't know what, you're too caught up in the moment that suddenly nothing matters anymore and the eyes of the boy make you question if this is really your war, if it really isn't your presence that will got him killed eventually.

In your peripheral vision you catch Bryan standing up and patting someone on the shoulder but you stop paying attention to that right away.

The boy is saying something now you don't understand but you just know he's begging you to help him. And you can't. 

"I know," you hear yourself say, "I know and I'm sorry."

Useless words. Empty. Meaningless.

A woman kneels down before you, scooping the boy in her arms. His hand falls out of yours and it breaks your heart. He looks just like the woman, both of them with deep brown eyes, soft features, thick brown hair. 

She nods. An understanding. 

You wouldn't be able to tell her that her son will die in her arms, probably tonight. 

There is a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn your head slightly. 

"We have to go," Bryan is whispering into your ear, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You lean into his touch for comfort and you convince yourself it is everything you need in order to pull yourself together.

You don't look at the boy anymore. You can't. You stand up to follow your fellow Corpsman and without any warning, he reaches behind himself for your hand. He grabs it to not lose you in the crowd.

And you hold onto it like it's a life vest. Perhaps it is everything you need to pull through this war, perhaps he is.

---

Later that day, when you stop for the night, you can't sleep. You can see those helpless eyes of that boy every time you close your eyes.

This, most definitely, is not your first encounter with wounded locals you couldn't save, as it is not your last, but this one stays with you, no matter how much you fight it. 

"Good work today, Y/N," you can hear Bryan's voice behind you. He sits on the ground next to you, shoulders and knees touching, and finally his affection towards you surprises you. You were too caught up in those moments before to notice how much he actually looks after you. 

"If you say so," you respond, not sharing his opinion. You feel like you failed today. 

"I know so," he counters, nudging you softly with his side. You finally smile.

You wait for him to bring up the boy incident but he doesn't speak one word of it and you're more than grateful. You couldn't talk about it if you tried. Maybe in a few years, but not today, and Bryan knows this, even if you don't. 

"You're awfully nice to me lately," you decide to keep the conversation going, turning your head to look at him for just a moment.

He chuckles at that, a sound you haven't heard enough and could easily get drunk on. "I'm nice to everyone." 

You burst out laughing at his answer, as all those cold stares and snarky comments of his come to your mind. 

He joins in, smiling. "That felt wrong just to say it."

"Tell me about it."

"I just-" he surpises you when he continues, "I just fucking hate everyone." 

You stop laughing and your heart drops a little but Bryan is still talking. "But you? You're the only person I don't hate." 

You're so caught off guard that you can't find anything to say back to that as your own capibility to talk fails you. The words hang above you both, you savour the feeling because you finally don't feel so alone in the vast world.

Something clicks in you when he says those words and you're smiling now, you couldn't stop smiling if you wanted to.

You grab his hand and squeeze it, you don't let go of him, you can't now. 

"I don't hate you too," you finally respond and you don't have to look at him to know he's smiling now too. 

[spikesbunny]

♥︎ SWAN SONG ♥︎

+ warnings: dom! fem reader, college au? (briefly mentioned), wlw relationship, semi-public sex (they're fucking in a closet), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, tit sucking, porn with plot(?)

+ ft: black swan x ballerina! fem reader

+ wc: 1k

nsfw under cut, minors + men dni!!!

+ notes: IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR BLACK SWAN OMFG! also shes ooc, sorry for that <3

reposting from @/roronoaism, all content is mine!!

the music whirled throughout the dance studio, echoing off the walls. you practiced your routine, attempting to drill it into your head. the recital was only a week away, and you had to be on your best foot, quite literally.

there, sat your girlfriend, black swan. she was graceful, just like your ballet moves. you had always done ballet, from such a young age. you predicted you would still be doing it, and you predicted you would struggle attempting to juggle your college courses and your undying love for dance.

but never in your life did you predict you would have such an angel of a girlfriend. god, it was like she was heaven sent. her voice, her movements, her style, it was everything you wanted to reflect in your recital - pure elegance laced with a tad bit of mystery.

after going through the movements once more, you take a break, sitting next to your girlfriend.

"you were beautiful, as always." she replies, her purple eyes smiling at you.

"thank you, but it wasn't anything too impressive." you reply, blushing from your girlfriends comment.

"anything my darling does is beautiful in my eyes. now, do you want to be done for today, or shall i watch your graceful movements more?" she ask, smiling gently as her soft, delicate hands held yours.

"hm, we can be done. i kinda want to go to the campus cafe, at least before psychology.

"well, let's do that after. i have something planned for you." black swan whispers near your ear, grabbing your hand. without further words, you were dragged through the dance studio, brought to an empty-looking closet.

"swan, we can't be in here! what if we get caught, my instructor will be pi- displeased." you catch yourself before cussing, as it was looked down upon in your studio.

"oh, my love, they won't catch us in here. just don't be too loud, hm?" she giggles, shutting the door quietly behind the two of you. her hands find their way to your shoulders, draping her slender arms as she presses kisses to your cheeks and jaw, eventually reaching your lips in a delicate kiss.

"see? not too bad, hm?" black swan giggles, pulling you down onto the floor with her, getting a small squeak from you as you find your way between the lilac-haired female's legs.

you smile, the dim lighting making it difficult to see. "fine, we can do what you want. just please, let's try to avoid me getting kicked out?"

she nods, bringing her soft, pale lips to yours in another kiss. her hands find their way to your hair and shoulder, intertwining themselves with your strands while her other hand mindlessly toys with your bra strap.

the kiss slowly becomes more heated, your hands rubbing circles into her hips, her desperation for you becoming more apparent. reacting to her growing needs, your hands move towards her black skirt.

moving the fabric up, you push her black lace panties aside, running your fingers up her slit. "you filthy little swan, you knew i would give in, hm?" you coo in her ear, a small giggle falling from her lips.

you kiss her again, pushing one finger into her. black swan moans into your mouth, her hands wrapping around your shoulders.

"you don't have to be so delicate with me" she groans, smirking. "i've been waiting the whole time as i watched you practice. i'm sure we can both feel how soaked i am, twinkle toes" she teases, earning a grunt from you as you slide another finger in.

she moans softly, resting her head against yours. you unbutton her shirt with your free hand, as the other one curls up into her pussy, moans and soft praise falling from her lips as you hit her perfectly. after freeing her chest from her shirt, you unclip her bra, exposing her chest to the air. without warning, your lips find their nipple, taking it into your mouth and sucking slowly, a gentle whimper falling coming from the woman in front of you.

"'m close, doll." she mumbles, soft moans and pants spilling from her mouth like a beautiful song wrote for you.

you pull your fingers out, smirking at black swan as she groans in frustation. "i was so close, you really shouldn't keep a woman waiting."

"you were close the entire lesson i bet."

"i was" she sighs, smiling. "not my fault my girl is more beautiful than the stars."

you roll your eyes, smiling at her sweet comments, before moving your head down, kissing her clit. your tongue darts out, licking her pussy as your finger rubs figure eights around her clit.

"jesus, graceful on her feet and with her body" black swan groans from above you, her hand finding perch in your hair, tugging lightly. with each tug, you groan into her cunt, diving your tongue in and fucking her with it.

the graceful lilac-haired beauty pants and groans, a her free hand darting to cover her mouth, hiding her louder moans. she cums quickly and without warning, coating your face. you continue your ministrations, helping her ride out her orgasm, before coming up, wiping your face off and licking any of her cum off your fingers.

"you cheeky little thing, always attempting to fluster me, hm?" she ask, smiling, blush dusted across her face.

you kiss her cheek, grabbing her hand and helping her up. "you're acting as if you don't do the same. i felt you eye fucking me the entire time i was practicing, it was quite distracting."

"not my fault your tutu rode up a tinsy bit." black swan remarks, sneaking you back out of the closet. "now how about that coffee you wanted? on me, for that amazing head i just got~"

"swan!!" you groan, looking around to see if anyone heard as your girlfriend giggles.

©2024 spikesbunny - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[the-nation-of-today]

Ballerinas, Barbers, and Brides

(or: an attempt to theorize on what BVB 7 is going to be about)

So everyone saw my deranged theory post yesterday. Here is my attempt to take that theory and put it into actual coherent thought.

We know BVB 7 has been teased and talked about. But what is it going to be about? My theory is that BVB 7 is going to be a concept album that focuses on a story about antagonists and the dangers of giving in to your darker wants and impulses. 

Let's get right into it.

I. BACKGROUND

Where are we right now in regards to the state of the band and its music?

Of the concept albums, we’ve already had two that focus on the heroes of the story (Wretched And Divine/Vale) and one that focuses on an antihero/morally gray character (The Phantom Tomorrow)

We know BVB 7 is being actively worked on

Andy has teased his notebook for this album (posted on his Insta story in June)

CC has recently been in the studio tracking drums with Erik Ron (he posted it on his Instagram story, I had a screenshot of it but have since apparently deleted it to make room for concert content.) (Edit: we found it!! Posted August 27th to his story)

Jake has teased multiple possible in-progress songs while on stream (I don’t have any clips of these but if anyone does please send them over and I’ll add them.) (Edit: a Twitter friend is letting me share these tweets from back in August re: what Jake has said)

Both Andy and Jake have teased that the new music is going to be heavier and harder with the incorporation of bits of death metal and deathcore, along with the tease of more Andy screaming. Andy in particular teased it in this Icon Vs. Icon interview about The Mourning (if anyone has a Jake tease, do share and I'll add it.)

II. BLACK SWAN

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this part does not have as much solid ground to stand on as the rest of the theory. However, it’s still worth talking about. This theory stems from the makeup looks that Andy did in Mexico and in the band’s pre-Mexico photoshoot. It’s been affectionately dubbed the Black Swan look due to the similarities between the look and Natalie Portman’s appearance on the Black Swan movie poster

But let’s take a look at what the actual plot and message of Black Swan is. According to IMDb, Black Swan focuses on Nina (Portman), “a talented but unstable ballerina on the verge of stardom. Pushed to the breaking point by her artistic director and a seductive rival, Nina's grip on reality slips, plunging her into a waking nightmare.”

Then, we get to the message of the movie itself. According to this article by Courtney Campbell of The True Colors: “In “Black Swan,” the movie highlights the dangerous divide between being passionate of your work and being obsessed with perfecting it. The director and Lily showcase passion; both of them are clearly enamored with ballet yet their psyches aren’t ravaged by it. Nina and her mother represent obsession. The pair have devoted their lives to ballet to the exclusion of everything else.”

So now we come to the crux of it: obsession. Nina, our protagonist, obsessed over ballet and her attempts to be cast in the principal role in Swan Lake. Because of this, her mind quite literally breaks and she begins to hallucinate more and more, to the point in the ending where she believes she is stabbing her rival with a shard of glass but instead has stabbed herself. Nina becomes her own worst enemy and, depending on how you interpret Black Swan’s ambiguous ending, dies because her passion became obsession.

So what does this mean for BVB 7? Well, there are many parallels between the world of Nina and the world of music- namely the desperate need to “make it”, and then stay relevant. It’s not an uncommon trend to see musicians fall into the same spirals that Nina did. While her story is an exaggerated one due to the nature of the movie, the themes are all too relevant to the life of a musician. In fact, loathe as I am to admit it because the movie is not good, we see a very similar theme in American Satan, which Andy starred in.

Black Swan is a story about how your need for perfectionism can twist you into something darker, and how being solely obsessed with one thing can cause your life to end.

III. SWEENEY TODD

Now here is where the theory really starts to hold weight. If there is one thing to know about Andy, it is that Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, is one of his favorite musicals of all time. He’s dressed up as the titular barber before and has recently gotten a new Sweeney Todd tattoo.

In case you aren’t familiar with the plot of the musical, let’s do a quick look at the synopsis. According to Wikipedia, the musical “retells the melodramatic Victorian tale of Sweeney Todd, an English barber and serial killer who, while seeking revenge on Judge Turpin who wrongfully convicted and exiled him to steal his wife, murders his customers and, with the help of his accomplice, Mrs. Lovett, processes their corpses into meat pies.”

Pretty gruesome stuff, but we really shouldn’t be surprised here. Essentially, the story is about a man who was once gentle and kind and has since been twisted into something cruel and evil. Sound familiar? Perhaps like a certain protagonist of a ballet movie previously mentioned? It’s also worth mentioning that, at the end of the musical, Todd ends up being killed because his blind lust for revenge has distracted him.

Now, I didn’t think there was much to this, I thought Andy’s Instagram captions were simply alluding to Sweeney Todd because he is, as we know, a big fan.

We have “Attend the tale” which is the first line that’s sung in the opening number The Ballad of Sweeney Todd (“Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd”) and “My friends” which is the title of a song about midway through Act 1/the first half of the movie where Todd first swears revenge. His “friends” that he’s referring to are his razors, his murder weapons.

But this all changed with yesterday’s (9/29) post.

Simply captioned “Epiphany”, that could mean anything, right? Epiphany is a pretty common word. WRONG.

“Epiphany”, in Sweeney Todd, is a major turning point in Act 1. Before this point in the musical, Todd was very self-controlled and precise. At this point in the musical, Todd had the object of his revenge (the Judge) in his grasp, but he escapes. This breaks Todd and that earlier precision is gone. Losing out on one chance of revenge has ruined his already fragile mind so much that here is where he decides to indiscriminately murder anyone he can get his hands on. These snippets from a (semi-negative) review of one production of Sweeney Todd from the Washington Post and a musical analysis of the show by From Score To Stage explain it better than I could.

What gets me is that it is not just a turning point for Todd's character, but for his musical structure. Oh? A change in music you say? A reference to a change in music when the band has teased that their new music will have some changes? Interesting.

But these are just coincidences, right? Let’s take one look further at this band and what they’ve been doing. On the recent Mexico leg, their intro music for when they come onto the stage was just The Phantom Tomorrow (Introduction). But they changed that for the US leg. And what did they change it to? Take a listen (y'know, outside of the various screams of yours truly)

Don’t recognize it? Take a listen to this.

That’s right, they’re using the opening title of Sweeney Todd as their introduction music for this leg. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but that is far too many “coincidences” to not at least make a note of. (Shout out to Tal @sonsofnight for picking up on this btw because I did not recognize it)

IV. CONCLUSION 

So where does this leave us? We have an album we know is in the works and two pieces of media that focus on the twisting of human desires into something darker. Perfection into obsession and controlled anger into revenge. Both end negatively for the protagonist in question, with either an ambiguous or confirmed death.

There is one last point I want to bring up- The Mourning. What started out as The Phantom Tomorrow part two that then morphed into its own thing. And one of the songs on there? The Revival, which has the lyrics “Did you find what you need in the solace? / Is the pain worth the soul and promise?” and “Did you find what you need in the solace? / Is the soul worth the pain of a world we can’t revive?”

Or, maybe in a different interpretation, was what you were striving for worth it? Was that perfection you were seeking worth the mental breakdown? Was that revenge you sought worth carving through the world and spilling its blood? Was all of that worth it, only for you to die at the end?

Whether this was meant to be a tease, I can’t say for certain. But for these themes to pop up in the transition release between TPT and what will (hopefully soon) be BVB 7? All I am going to say is that it lines up just a little too well for my liking to be a set of coincidences. And now that we’ve had the stories of our heroes and antiheroes told, maybe it’s time for the villains and antagonists to take the spotlight.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Severed and Broken(Part 2 of “Deduce Me”)

So many people requested a 2nd part to “Deduce Me”, so here it is! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst (no fluffs given here), It’s short. Reader is broken. 

Pairings/Characters: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader, Mycroft Holmes

"And why should I do this for you, Sherlock?" Mycroft's question grated on Sherlock's nerves. "Mycroft, I do not ask you for anything. I don't need favors from you in normal circumstances, but I need this." Mycroft cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought. When John had called him and told him what Sherlock had done, Mycroft was determined to stay out of it. But now Sherlock was here, asking for his help. And Mycroft liked you. You were good for Sherlock.

         "I will see what I can do," he finally replied to his brother. Sherlock didn't thank him as he left Mycroft's office. The elder Holmes sighed before picking up his phone. As soon as he knew Sherlock was gone, he dialed your number. "What is it, Mycroft?" your tired voice asked when you'd answered. Mycroft quickly explained what Sherlock asked him to do and you scoffed. "Of course he did. The choice is yours, Mycroft. I won't hold any ill will for you if you choose to help him." You hung up, leaving Mycroft with a decision. He wanted to respect your choices, but he also wanted to help his brother. With that in mind, Mycroft texted Sherlock the information.

         You weren't at all surprised when, three days later, you found Sherlock standing outside the soulmate clinic. "What are you doing here, Sherlock?" you asked. "You cannot do this," Sherlock simply stated. You stared at him for a moment before you began laughing humorlessly.

         "Why not?! Why shouldn't I?! You clearly don't care. You didn't even notice I was gone!" you shouted, "I-I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. It isn't fair to either of us. Having a soulmate might not mean anything to you, but it does to me. Something has to change here. And I won't make it be you."

         Sherlock stared at you for a moment, as if waiting to see whether you were finished shouting at him. When he determined that you had, at least for the time being, he spoke. "You've always known who I was, Y/N and you have stood by my side just as Watson has. I do not think I could really forget you if I tried." You let out a scoff.

         "Really? What about the next case? A case that tickles your mind and pulls you in so deep you cannot tell fantasy from reality? What if Moriarty somehow returns? Or the next Irene Adler comes along?" you asked as you fiddled with your fingers. Sherlock couldn't argue for once. He knew you were right this one time. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued on in your tirade.

         "Face it, Sherlock, your cases and yourself will always come first for you. And that's fine. But I won't sit idly by, letting myself die a slow and painful death at the hands of my supposed soulmate. I love you, Sherlock, I truly do, but I can't go on in this constant pain. So, I am severing the bond and releasing you from your tie to me. I wish you the very best. Please don't try to stop me."

         Before Sherlock could stop you, you raced inside. As he was about to take off after you despite your wishes, his phone pinged with a text. Lestrade with a case. Sherlock glanced up at the doors of the clinic, then back down at his phone briefly. It only took a second for him to make up his mind what he would do.

         Sherlock would learn the consequences of his choice a couple of hours later when he nearly fell to his knees in pain. When he desperately tried to reach out to you through the soul bond, he could no longer feel it. The two of you were no longer bound together. You had done it and for once in his life, Sherlock felt something akin to remorse. He only hoped you would be content with your choice.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Fluff was apparently off the table for this one though.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Deduce Me Tags: @sherlocks-blanket @zizzlekwum @let-me-r-e-a-d @high-functioning-lokipath @cemak 

[mushroomwoods]

never say goodbye

The sailor finally learned of a secret that roamed among the group and he wasn't happy about it, after all, who, if not him, would even dare to get so close to you? He would make sure it wasn't that wolf.

character — Wind, platonic.

cw — platonic yandere, wind is a warning in itself, feral little gremlin has too many traumas to take care of.

as always, @wayfayrr big brain ideas makes me spiral into madness and this is the latest result of it. and my opinion stands strong, platonic yanderes are fucking scary, they could ruin your fucking life if it meant you would never look away from them <3

kinda noticing how I'm turning mostly into a dark content blog too, oh dear, that wasn't the intention.

The sailor wasn't stupid like some liked to paint him as. It was only natural for him to discover what was the nature of Wolfie's existence when the rancher was always so secretive about it.

The man had come clean to him when he noticed the boy was too near the truth, after all, he trusted him like a younger sibling, he knew he wouldn't do anything to use it against him.

But maybe it was a mistake.

He must have underrated the sailor possible bolts of jealousy when he said something like that to him.

At first it was okay, but he started acting gloomier by the day when you didn't pay him any mind in order to play with the group's wolf. When it came to that, Twilight unfortunately knew it was only a matter of time until the bubble of rose tinted lens burst.

And for the first time, anyone in the group had ever seen Wind cry.

Not that he wasn't easy to read, he was more open than most in the group and always relied into some of the others when in need of help, it was endearing how he acted like the younger sibling when he noticed it would alleviate the tension, even when it was apparent how much he hated acting like it.

But he was strong.

There was no doubt about it, some could even argue that the boy would stand among the heroes with the most mental fortitude, as there was hardly anything that could set him off, even in the middle of battle.

But the scene unfolding right now was nothing short of a surprise.

The boy clung to your clothes as he muttered something incoherent, tears streaming down his face as his grip around one of your writs turned bruising. You winced and Twilight turned frantic.

“Wait, Wind, [Name] is in pain.” The ordonian tries to approach, but the glare he receives from the boy is enough to make him stop.

“Don't you fucking dare!” Wind snarled, showing his teeth and any reproach Wars had about his language, died when he noticed just how shaken up he was.

“Hey sailor, what got into you suddenly.” Four didn't move from his spot near the clearing, but the youngest head whipped to him so harshly you feared he would hurt himself.

“Like you're one to talk, smith. I bet someone like you was into like the rest of you all.” His voice was firm, but the tears just continued to cascade relentlessly. “I bet you all would just leave me out of it and try to take away all the things I love, like they always do.”

A sob broke from his throat and finally his facade crumbled, as his eyes ran back to you, filled with so much desperation you couldn't help but hug the boy, who sniffled into your chest.

“[Name], please, don't leave, please... I'll be good, I promise.” You shushed him quietly, running your hand over his hair as the other patted his back.

“Hey now... why would I leave?” His eyes lifted to meet you, wet lashes brushing and peeking through his bangs. “I won't leave you, don't worry.” You smiled reassuringly and he nodded softly, his hand around your wrist finally letting go as he hugged you again, now nuzzling into you.

You looked in confusion to the rest of the group, but there was no answer from their part. Twilight eyes avoided yours and Time sighed, impatient, but not words were uttered to calm your nerves.

It was a strange night, and you could notice how ever since that day the youngest was more and more protective over you, turning especially harsh when Wolfie tried to approach you, but no one said a thing to dimiss his paranoia, as you could only follow along his whims, since anything you said to go against his wishes would make the usually so energetic boy tremble and cry in fear you would abandon him.

At some point you understood that what you said to him as only a mean to calm him down, was now a promise binding the two of you together.