#and so she asked again in english and like

[fioiswriting]

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 

Everything he wasn't. 

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable. 

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

*** 

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 

As if to unveil what he held within himself. 

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

An unpleasant heat. 

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 

Jace almost choked. 

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand. 

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this. 

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

*** 

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 

He wanted more. 

He needed more. 

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling. 

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace. 

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

*** 

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 

The sensation was delicious. 

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 

You could see through his game. 

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

*** 

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

[shelbygun]

happy birthday, baby

pairing: thomas shelby x fem!reader

summary: thomas always wanted you, and he will claim you on your birthday.

warnings: big ? age gap (reader is 17 and tommy in his late twenties, srry i love age gap), p in v, smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names

a/n: the last fic was short and a little miserable so here I bring you one from tommy (because I love him) a little longer <3 I hope you enjoy it, sorry for the spelling mistakes, english is not my first language!

Thomas always wanted you, ever since you were a cute and naive girl. Since you walked through the town in your flowered dress, which gently rose up every time you ran or played. Or since when you visited his house, looking for his sister Ada to play or do homework. 

He watched you as you talked about boys with Ada, wishing you would stop naming other stupid boys and just think about him. Oh, he hated it so much when he heard you talk about others and not him. 

Although you didn't know it, you were his. Only his. And in that way he took the trouble to scare away any boy who wanted to get close to you, because you were his. In case he didn't notice and saw a boy with you, even a classmate of yours, talking to you or just being close to you, he would send the one of the Peaky Blinders to scare him and threaten him that he shouldn't approach you. 

For your part, you didn't understand why the boys didn't approach you, or sometimes they looked at you with fear. You were a good girl to everyone, you never did anything wrong against anyone, and it seemed strange to you that everyone didn't seem to have the guts to approach you. 

One day you talked about this with Ada, she told you that they might find you a very pretty girl and were afraid that you would reject them. But you didn't buy that opinion, and you were left with doubt. 

Thomas listened to that conversation, and was proud to see that no one approached his girl. 

At the same time, you were hiding a little secret that no one knew, not even Ada. You were in love with his brother, with Thomas. And who doesn't? He was a sexy man, all the women died for him, and you felt lucky when he spoke to you or sat next to you at lunch those days when you stayed at the Shelby's house.

But you thought there was no chance of him hanging out with you, since you always saw him with other women, fucking any prostitute. You felt jealous, and a little sad too. 

But Thomas only had encounters with women because he had to satisfy his needs while you were out of his reach. Even if he was fucking other women, he would always think about you, about how your body would look below his, how your hips would collide while his cock was thrust into your little virgin cunt again and again. He would also masturbate, thinking that the hands that wrapped around his big size were yours, or imagining your pretty little mouth being violated while you took it all in. He was a little fanciful sometimes. 

He promised to wait for you, he fucking promised, but he just couldn't hold back any longer. He had to have you and claim you as his, brand you with the name Thomas Shelby. So now his promise was to wait until your next birthday, when you would turn 17. 

He knew that you were a virgin, -since there was a reason he chased men away from you-, so he wanted that night to be pleasant. He would give you your birthday gift, one that you would really enjoy.

One day before your birthday, he noticed that Ada was baking a cake for you. "She will be with us tonight for her birthday." That was what she said when he asked her about the cake, although he knew well the reason for that dessert. 

After that, he went around the city looking for a nice gift for you. Nothing expensive or luxurious, since he knew you didn't like those things. Something simple and kind-hearted would catch your attention and would be enough to pamper you. 

He bought you a cute and delicate necklace, along with a bouquet of flowers. He was feeling like a man completely lost for you, for your innocence, innocence that he wishes to corrupt. 

He kept your gift in his office for the time being, as he still had work to do regarding the business. The whole time he was sitting at his desk, analyzing documents and signing unimportant papers, he was thinking about how you would look tonight, how your moans will sound, how pretty you will look underneath him, begging for more, for his cock. He was already getting hard just imagining your face of pure pleasure and excitement when you reached your first orgasm, caused only by him.

Hours later, after finishing all his paperwork and being completely free of work, he headed home, where you would be too. When he walked through the front door, he could hear your soft giggles mixed with the delicious aroma of the food you were cooking with Ada and Polly. 

He disassembled, standing a little close to the kitchen, in the perfect position to see you. You were wearing a beautiful white dress, a symbol of your innocence and purity, the characteristics of your personality that drove him crazy. You looked beautiful with your hair down and long, since you never liked short haircuts. 

None of the three of you saw him, nor did they see the bouquet of flowers or the necklace box that were dedicated to you. It was a little secret. 

He walked up the stairs, entering his room and closing the door behind him. He sighed tiredly, dropping your gift on his bed. It was too much for him to see you in that tight little dress and not be able to grab you, touch you, eat you with kisses. 

He was in his room, imagining the possible scenarios for tonight. He thought about masturbating while, but it was highly inappropriate since you were here. He is a respectful man, only to a point.

A knock on his door interrupted him, standing up from his desk, his cigarette in the side of his mouth. He opened it and found you there, standing in front of him like an angel who just fell from the sky. “Hi, Tommy. We're about to start eating, will you join us?" You said in your sweet little voice, looking adorable as you looked at him with your pretty eyes, those eyes that drove him crazy. "Of course, baby. I'll be with you." He responded, eating you with his eyes. You looked completely delicious in that dress. 

The two of you walked down together to the dining room, the table with food and drinks ready. He sat next to you, clearly, and the evening for your birthday began. 

Arthur told bad jokes, John joined in his game, and Polly scolded them. You and Ada laughed at their jokes, childish smiles covering your faces. Thomas was serious as always, from time to time he would give a low laugh or a little grin would appear on his lips, but he was totally focused on you, on how beautiful and edible you looked. He wanted to eat you and taste you. He swore that you were going to taste better than all the food that was on the table. 

He would put his hand on your thigh sometimes, giving you light caresses, as if anticipating what he was going to do to you. You were blushing hard, biting your lower lip. He did this before, caressing you under the table surreptitiously, but today it felt different. 

Before the clock strikes 12, Polly and Ada bring the cake to the table, placing it in front of you. Arthur was looking for a camera, to the sound of "Where's that bloody shitty camera?!" John laughed, amused at seeing his brother renege. Thomas looked at you, and then at the clock. He had the lighter in hand for the candle on the cake. 

Finally, after a few minutes, it was your birthday. The Shelby's sang with you while you blew out the candle, Arthur taking pictures of you with the camera he was looking for and John trying to ruin your face on the cake. Of course he didn't because Polly scolded him, and Ada put too much effort into the cake to ruin it. 

When they came up to greet you and hug you, Thomas was the last to do so. He approached gently, getting close to you. "Happy birthday, baby. I have a gift for you, but I'm not going to give it to you now." He whispered in your ear with his deep, masculine voice, filling your nostrils with his intoxicating aroma. You nodded at his words, looking at him anxiously.  

You were nervous to death, thinking and imagining the gift he had for you. You already had an idea of what it could be, of course, as Thomas has shown more and more the intentions he has for you. Getting closer to you, giving you light caresses when no one was looking. Sneaky but at the same time so predictable. 

After eating cake and Arthur having had a few drinks, babbling nonsense and making the whole family and you laugh, everyone decided to go to sleep. Polly said goodbye to each one with a kiss on the forehead, wishing them good night. John was trying to help Arthur guide him to his room, but the man was so drunk and dumb that he couldn't stand up. You and Ada laughed in amusement at his condition. And Thomas was serious, as always, but this time he wasn't the first to enter his room and lock himself up for the night. No, he waited until Ada was distracted to grab your arm and whisper in your ear. "When Ada falls asleep, come to my room. Understand, babe?" He said quietly.

Now all your blood has risen to your cheeks. You and him, at dawn, alone. It was so obvious what he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you. And you bit your lips from nerves, from desire. How long have you waited for this, for him, and were you finally going to have it? Plus, on your birthday. It was going to be a memorable day. 

God, you have heard my prayers, you said internally. 

You walked into Ada's room, looking a little different. She asked you why you seemed so nervous, like waiting for something. You only responded that you were very happy for your birthday and that was enough to convince her. The two of you chatted for a couple of minutes, exchanging giggles from time to time. In your mind you were just praying that Ada would feel tired soon so you could receive your surprise. A few moments later, you heard a yawn from her and she suddenly said she wanted to sleep. Thank you God, you have heard me for the second time.

Both of you lay properly on the bed, with your pajamas on. You said goodnight and turned your backs to sleep. You were waiting patiently for Ada to close her eyes and fall into a deep sleep to leave. You had your eyes open and your mind busy imagining and imagining so you wouldn't fall asleep too. And, like God's third act, a soft but sure snore emerged from her. 

Gently and quietly, you got out of bed and walked out of the room. The wood creaked under your feet with each step you took in the hallway, heading towards the lion's den. You opened Thomas's bedroom door without warning. And you saw him.

He was sitting on his bed, his legs slightly open with his elbows resting on his knees while in his hands he had a bouquet of flowers. On his nightstand, a small velvet box lay. Thomas looked up at the creak of the door, a slight, mischievous smile on his lips. "Ada took a while to fall asleep, eh?" he teased in a low, husky tone of voice. 

You blushed softly, closing the door behind you and standing a few feet away from him. He gave a nasal laugh and stood up from the edge of the bed, approaching you. You had to lift your head a little to look at him properly. "Happy birthday, baby..." he whispered softly, holding the bouquet of flowers in his hands. You smiled sweetly, taking the bouquet and looking happily at the gift he had for you. "Oh, Tommy... it wasn't necessary..." you murmured, looking adoringly at Thomas and the bouquet. 

"It's not the only gift I have for you, love..." he said with a mischievous smile, moving away from you a little to grab the velvet box. "Turn around." He demanded as he approached back. You still had the bouquet in your hands as you turned around, feeling his body stand behind you. Cold metal made contact with the skin of your neck and you saw Thomas's fingers holding a necklace. You stifled a gasp, admiring the metal thread. 

You grabbed the necklace with your hand, smiling contently. You noticed that the letters "TS" were written on the necklace pendant. 

“This is proof that you're mine now, baby…”He whispered in your ear, gently caressing the sides of your body. “You are totally mine, my love. Until the end of the world you're going to be, do you understand, baby?" He manipulated your little head, leaving soft kisses behind your ear. 

And like the good girl you were, you nodded softly, letting yourself be carried away by his pretty words. "I want to make you mine right now, will you allow me, my love?" he asked softly. And again, your little head nodded, allowing him to finally use you. 

He turned you around, making you look into his eyes. He gently grabbed your cheek, bringing his lips to yours and kissing you sweetly. This was your first kiss and he wanted you to enjoy it and remember it in a good way. His tongue barely touched your lips, tempting you to more of him. 

With a gentle grip on your waist, he laid you down on his bed, pulling you under him as you kissed over and over again. He became addicted to your lips, wanting to have his taste attached to yours. His hands caressed your thighs under your pajama shorts, squeezing your delicious flesh a little. 

"Will you allow me, baby?" He whispered in your ear, lacing his fingers in the hem of your cotton t-shirt, asking if he could take it off. With a slight nod, you let your torso be exposed. He was dazzled by your tummy and your pretty breasts that he wanted to squeeze and kiss so much. He did so, leaning his head to your chest and removing your bra, throwing it to the floor. He gently licked the tip of your breast, stimulating the other with his hand. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes and grabbing his hair, enjoying the new pleasure. 

He played with your nipples a little longer, playing like a little child. "They're so cute, my love. I hope to see them more often..." he teased, giving them one last kiss before lowering his lips to your tummy, letting his breath hit your pelvis covered by the shorts.  

“You can, Tommy. Please do it." You whispered, eager to feel his touches down there, on your virgin cunt. He looked at you softly as he cupped your cheeks. "No more Tommy, my love. From now on, you will call me Daddy every time we are together. Understand, baby?" *That fucking nickname was so provocative for you.* 

“Understood, Daddy." you obeyed, smiling a little, looking adorable, like a sweet, innocent girl. His sweet, innocent girl. 

"That's what I like to hear, pretty baby." He said proudly with a slight smile, placing a kiss on your belly. He gently grabbed the hem of your shorts, and without asking you -since he knew you would say yes- he lowered your garment, leaving you in your panties. 

"So cute, so innocent." He whispered softly, lightly caressing your pussy through the cotton fabric. He admired how you looked so sweet and innocent in just your panties, below him, in his total control. Your breathing hitched a little as you felt his fingers there, biting your lips gently. "Don't be shy, pretty baby." He teased, grabbing your hips. "There will be many more moments to come where I will see you like this." He calmed you down, using his soft, pretty words. 

You calmed down at his touch, although you did get a little nervous. He continued with his work, playing with your covered cunt, smiling a little. He liked to tease you, watching you squirm and moan like a needy kitten. He was just touching you a little to test the waters and then start with what he had planned. 

While he touched you, he felt how you became wetter and how your moans increased, and he decided to leave you. "Do you want it now, pretty baby?" He asked you with a wicked smile on his lips, looking at you as you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

You were a little dizzy by his fingers, but you still nodded softly, letting him finally take you. You felt him rise again, making you able to look at his face. You saw how he took off his shirt, throwing it on the floor, showing his naked and perfect torso, with scratches and tattoos. He smiled as he noticed your gaze. "Do you like it, little girl? This is yours now, you can look at it as many times as you want." He whispered, as he took off his pants. 

He was totally naked now, showing off his large erection. He stroked it a little, while he continued looking at your little body, licking his lips and thinking a lot of scenarios with you. 

"You're driving me crazy, baby..."  

He approached you, letting his tip just touch your entrance, feeling you gasp and close your eyes. His cock was big, and you expected it to hurt. "I'm going in now, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but you'll get used to it, baby." He murmured. Gently, he gave the first push, causing only the tip to enter. You moaned, grabbing the bed sheets and biting your lip.  

"Good, baby... you'll get used to it." He whispered, giving you gentle caresses on your hip to soothe your pain.

You felt him start to go deeper and deeper, making you close your eyes and moan, feeling full when everything finally entered. "It's big..." you whispered softly. He laughed softly. "It is, but you just need to stretch out to enjoy it." 

 After a few seconds, he started to move. Going out a little and going in again, all slowly and gently so as not to hurt you. You felt those pushes like the sky, closing your eyes and moaning slightly, opening your little mouth. He enjoyed your countenance, watching you like his movements. 

“I'm going to go a little faster, little girl..." he warned, before giving you a kiss on your neck. Now, his movements began to be faster and more concise, crashing his pelvis against yours, filling you so well. He heard your moans and saw how you squirmed, making him smile. Meanwhile, he whispered nice words in your ear, caressing your breasts with one hand and holding your hip with the other. 

"Such a good girl, taking Daddy's cock so well. Who thought you were a virgin, huh, baby?" He whispered, slamming his hips precisely against yours, giving you more and more pleasure. 

You were so dizzy, feeling how his fat cock filled you and made you feel so good. You smiled like a fool at his whispers, and moaned uncontrollably. You felt like his movements were too much, and that the knot in your stomach was already going to explode. Thomas knew you were going to come, and he smiled. "Cum for Daddy, little girl. Do it, do it for your daddy." He whispered in your ear, making his thrusts even stronger as he felt like he was going to cum too. 

"Would you like Daddy to leave his cum in you, pretty baby? For Daddy to fill you with his essence?" You nodded, moaning softly. Soon, you felt your legs shake, his cock thrust too hard, and your knot exploded. You moaned loudly, letting your liquid come out. You also heard Thomas' grunt in your ear, and his cum filling you. 

"Good little girl... you were a good baby, you know that?" He whispered in your ear, as he pulled out of you and let his liquids mix and come out of your entrance together, creating an image worth seeing. "Look at that... it's perfect, baby."  

He noticed that you were tired from what happened. He took you in his arms and laid down gently next to you, holding you close to his body. He enjoyed having you so much, watching you moan and pant for him. It made him feel like a king.  

"Sleep, pretty baby... you deserve a rest after being a good girl for Daddy..." he whispered in your ear. He planted a soft kiss on your little head, stroking your hair and letting you fall asleep. 

You fell asleep like a baby in his strong, comfortable arms, dreaming about him. This was definitely your best birthday. 

#cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders fic

[li0nn3stuff]

Aemond finds new ways to make you cum

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader 

You are in a relationship with modern!Aemond

Warnings: sex description, smut, dirty talk, anal fingering, chocking, tiny bit of degradation, dom!Aemond

She clenched her fingers tightly on the covers as every thrust Aemond did, jolted her forward. She moaned loudly, again and again, as she felt his tip rubbing her deliciously.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it… Yes, fuck- Keep squeezing me like that.” He groaned as he kept thrusting harder and harder, burning his cock in her to the very end.

She fell on her elbows for the fierceness of his thrust, and she moaned again when she felt him grab her butt cheeks harshly in his hands, spreading them apart so he could see better what he was doing to her.

“You gonna cum again?” He smirked as he used his gasp on her to pull her back to meet his thrust.

“Yes, yes…” She mewled as she raised back on her hands and turned to look at him behind her. “Yes, please Aemond- I-I want it…” She moaned. Aemond looks at her, smirking darkly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed and bent down, his chest pressed against her back, he knew she loved this position. He puts a hand on the mattress, the other wrapping around her neck.

“Yeah? Then do it baby, cum on my cock.” He growled, squeezing her throat. She moans again, shutting her eyes closed, hovering his hand with hers, digging her fingernails on the back of his palm, feeling her orgasm approaching quickly. Her mouth falls open as she let out a loud long moan, as she let her hand fall back against his shoulder. His thrusts faltered, and stopped after a while, breathing heavily beside her ear. She takes long deep breaths, to recover from the strong feeling.

“You okay?” He asks after a while. She nodded and turned her head to look at him, opening her eyes. He kissed her deeply, passionately, slipping his tongue in her mouth, she put her hand on the side of his face as he resumed his thrusts, making her whine. He raises back on his feet, grabbing her hips tightly to fuck her again as he wants.

“Fuck! Aemond!” She moans, not ready for such a hard way so soon. He chuckles and slaps her butt, squeezing her butt cheek right after.

“I want to cum.” He simply said. “But you’re cumming again before I do it.” He smirks, grabbing her buttcheeks again, spreading them apart again. He lets his spit fall down on her slit, reaching quickly to where his cock was frantically pumping inside her. He moved her leg so she spread her legs wider, and he slipped his hand between their bodies to stimulate her clit with light pressed circles. She whined loudly and looked back at him.

“Aemond… I can’t anymore, you've done too much…” She pleaded as he kept thrusting. He scoffs and grabs her by her hair, pulling her back to him. It was true he put a lot of attention on her clit before, when he ate her out for something like an hour.

“Too much?” He laughed and leaned back to look at her backside move at every hit he did, as he kept pulling her back by her hair. “Babe, I haven’t even done it all.” He smirked, and he let go of her hair, letting her fall on the bed.

“Aem– Fuck, slow down…” She moaned, turning her head to the side, a bit of drool running from her mouth to the mattress. I was too much, too much for her to handle, she could feel herself on fire, but also she felt pleasure, it was all too much.

“Come on, princess, I know what you need…” He grinned devilishly as he leant down, putting his hand on the mattress for leverage. He slipped his thumb in her mouth and laughed when he saw her sucking it immediately.

“Look at you, fucking slut, You like this.” He kept pounding on her with a bit more slow thrust, but twice as hard, making her jump forward on the bed.

“Ah! Aem–mond–” She moaned even more loudly at one particular hard thrust, and she reached behind her, placing her hand on his buttoks, digging her nails in his skin. He lifted back up once his thumb was wet enough, pushing her hand away, bending her arm behind her. He then slapped her ass, leaving a red print of his hand on her.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck–” She whimpered loudly. He gripped hard her buttocks, spreading her apart once again, and spit over her slit.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.” He said, it was a statement, and he knew he would make it happen. Until she didn’t say the safe word, she was completely his to use and pleasure as he wanted. He kept his buttocks spread as he started passing his thumb over her little hole, one he hadn’t been able to own. 

Yet.

She moaned again, it wasn’t the first time he teased her like this, and he knew the idea of him touching her asshole drove her crazy. 

He started pressing the tip of his thumb on her little hole as he sped up his thrusts again. She clenched her hands into fists, one of her arms still behind her, like a good girl. Aemond pressed his thumb more forcefully, the fingertip getting inside of her for a moment. She gasped loudly and tried to raise herself on her arm, but Aemond made her fall back on the bed with a particular hard thrust.

“Aemond, what are yo– Ah!” He didn’t let her finish, he pushed his thumb completely inside her ass, hypnotized by the sight of filling her in both her holes at the same time. She moaned loudly again and again as he slowly moved his thumb as he kept his thrusts steady, fast and hard.

“You like it?” He chuckled as she saw her clench her hand on the sheets, and hit the mattress with her fist.

“I love it, I love it!” She moaned loudly. Aemond smiled, and he started feeling her clench impossibly tight on his cock, making it hard for him to move.

“Fuck— Aemond! I wanna cum, please make me cum!” She exclaimed. Aemond couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Oh, now you can cum for me, baby?” He asks her with a grin.

“Yes! Yes, please– I want it, please!” She kept demanding so loudly that if she was in the right mind she would die of shame. “Am I making you feel that good, baby?” He smirked as he kept working his thumb in and out of her asshole slowly, letting her feel the little stretch. “You want more?” He groaned as she squeezed him again.

“Yeah– Yes, please… I want more!” She moaned as she brought both of her arms in front of her, her hands gripping the sheets to find somewhere to hold on to as she started pushing herself back against him.

“How much more?” He asked, watching his thumb entering her repeatedly.

“All of it, please, Aemond make me cum, I wanna cum!” She pleaded desperately.

“You wanna cum with my finger in your ass? Is that how much of a slut you are for me?” He growled, squeezing her buttock with his free hand, enough to leave bruises.

“Yes, please, Aemond I’m your slut– Please-” She moaned, throwing her head back to be able to catch sight of him. He put his hand on her neck, drawing her back, making her arch her back.

“Mine.” He growls. She nods repeatedly, as her body starts shaking, and she holds on to his arm for dear life, as her jaw falls open, and she lets herself go, moaning loudly without shame. Aemond felt her ass and cunt squeeze him wonderfully, and he kept moving, pushing himself inside her, feeling his own orgasm approach.

“Oh fuck– Aemond… Ah! Wait–” She whimpers as he finally cums, giving her a few last rough thrusts. He moans out loud, slipping his thumb out of her ass, gripping her hips tightly to keep her close so he won0t slip out of her. She falls face down on the bed, her body still shaking by the intense orgasm. Aemond bent down, pressing his forehead against her back, they were both sweaty and exhausted. They were breathing heavily, loudly, their mind still numb by the pleasure they just experienced. She reached for his thigh behind her and caressed it. He rose back on his knee, and pushed once more, making her whine loudly as he smirked. He slowly pulled out of her, he quickly washed his hand before going back in the bedroom and fell back on the bed, immediately pulling her in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispers, as she comfortably laid on his chest, her eyes already closed. He smiles and caresses her hair, covering them with the blanket and closing his eye as well.

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond one shot #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #dark aemond x reader #aemond x reader #modern aemond #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #modern!aemond #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond x you #modern!aemond x reader

[k0juki]

You and Mafia Max having a night out in the Netherlands.

Mafia!Max Verstappen

Carneval night

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

More Mafia!Max posts here!

A/n: The time-line is before they broke up.

Wc: 624

---

You were only a few months in the Netherlands, so Max thought that it would be fun to show you around Amsterdam.

At first you were here just because of your father, but after some time and meeting some new people, including Max, you decided to stay here, with him.

Amsterdam has become more than just a temporary stop—now it's your home, filled with love and adventure. You fell in love with him, and he did the same.

"I heard there's a street festival here." Max suggested and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Live music, delicious food stalls, and carnival games. I thought you would like it."

"That doesn't sound so bad." You teased him, but he can't say he doesn't like it, because he does like it.

As you stroll through the vibrant streets of Amsterdam, the festive atmosphere fills you with excitement. You really liked this place, because it wasn't anything like back home in London.

"Oh, look Max, they have these big stuffed animals here!" You pointed out and made your way to that booth with Max right beside you.

"Who do I have to shoot to get that donkey?" You asked and took that heavy gun. Max and the stall holder laughed. "I mean it."

"Yeah, she's not joking." Max grined and gave warning look to that guy. It was sign that nor Max or you were joking. You really wanted that stupit stuffed animal.

"I'm sure you do young lady, the rules are simple, you have to shoot down the cans. That's all." He explained, as he moved aside, you pointed the gun at cans and shot. Completely missed. It was harder than you expected.

At first, Max was just wheezing, so you didn't mind him much, but after some time... "That was amazing love, you have to teach me." He laughted and clapped his hands.

"Oh, ha ha...I'm just warming up." You adjusted the gun and shot. Missed again.

That couldn't be right, the gun was just too heavy. And what was worse, Max's laugh starts to piss you off. Did he want to die? You were sure he did. You said nothing and just gave him a long side eye. If look could kill, Max would be instantly dead.

"Someone is asking for trouble." You whispered and shot the last shoot. Nothing.

You put the gun down and turned to Max with both hands on your hips. "You wanna try it, Emilian?"

That shut him up, because everyone that was close to Max and you knew that you normally didn't call Max Emilian. More like Max, Maxi or love. You were really pissed off.

But he didn't waste any second and took the gun the moment it was reloaded and perfectly shot three times, all cans fell down.

Max looked at you with a smug face and put down the gun. You just crossed your arms as that stallholder cherished and congratulated Max, he just laughed a little and said, "I will take that donkey."

As Max handed you that stuffed animal, he leaned his head down and kissed your cheek. "For a pretty lady, one big donkey."

You thanked Max and took his hand in yours, everything was forgiven. And then you started dragging him to another interesting place you saw.

But you didn't notice how Max turned back to the stallholder and how they exchanged a long glances of knowing, he knew who Max was, so even if Max didn't shoot right after you, he would give you that stuffed donkey himself.

His life was worth more than some plush.

"What do you say we look for next?" Max asked and put his arm back around you. Even though you were completely clueless, but still happy.

---

🫶

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #x female!reader #f1 x reader #f1 #k0juki's stuff 🩷 #x reader #max verstappen x you #mafia!au #mafia!max #mafia!max verstappen #mafia!max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #max verstappen x female reader #mafia!f1 #formula 1 #blurb

[042502]

☆༉ — CHRIS STURNIOLO. The unwritten rule.

about. Everyone knows the rule, don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend.

word count. 2K

a/n. This is the Chapter 2, I hope it sounds interesting to you. My first language is not English, you will read this under this warning. m.list.

I've liked Chris for a long time. A shameful long time, and no one, not even Anna knows it. She thinks that in eighth grade, when he asked me to the dance and I said yes, he was just being nice, and when I said: "I like it a little, okay?” waiting for her to say she was.

She just said: "Come on, you can't really like me. It’s Chris.”

I could still remember her telling me how lucky I was because it turned out that he couldn't go because his grandmother had passed away and he had to fly to Boston for the funeral. At that point Chris wasn't worth Anna's time or interest, so he wasn't supposed to be worth it to me.

But I thought so. I wanted to go to that dance with him, I wanted to be his girlfriend, but we couldn't go to the dance, and when he came back from the funeral Anna had told everyone that I hadn't wanted to go out with him and was too kind to say no.

He listened, of course, and we didn't speak again until the end of our freshman year of high school, when we ended up standing next to each other waiting to leave the school during a fire drill. I can't be the only person who sees the problem with that, right?

We spoke only one day.

"Hello, what's happening?" And guessing how burned we'd be if there was a real fire, And after that, I admit that I thought, wait, maybe, someday...

And then, something from six weeks ago, I saw him at a party.

I saw it, but Anna had it.

I see Anna waving at him as I get on the road. Chris raises a hand too, and I try not to think about that party. About what I thought at that moment.

About his hand touching mine.The party that Anna and Chris got together at was a thing where summer oh shit school is going to suck, and all the usual suspects were there. Anna ran into a bunch of people from the drama club, and everyone was talking about what work they wanted to do.

I was looking around the house, greeting everyone who passed by and talking about summer, We all agreed it was too short.

I wandered off to the studio, which was his usual study. A haven for dad complete with a comfy, stubby chair that they clearly didn't allow into any other space in the house, a collection of newspapers and magazines, all open in articles about sports, and two huge shelves, They ran from floor to ceiling and were filled with paperback books and what looked like old manuals, but there were also some books on the coffee table, of the kind that are all photographs. One of them was shoes.

And here's the thing about me: I like shoes. Good sneakers. I have twenty seven pairs, and twenty-five of them are ones that I decorated myself or bought already designed. Two pairs are in my room now, stark white and waiting for inspiration to strike.

Which leads me to what happened. There I was, flipping through the shoe book and wondering if I could get a copy and decorate a pair of sneakers with shoe cutouts. I saw heels around the edges, boot dancing across the top, and bright yellow lace with lovely tiny silver slippers on the ends. When I saw a painting on the wall.

I don't know much about art, but the painting was clearly valuable. It was nicely framed and had one of those little reflectors that say "Look! Look at this picture!" about her. I had also been waiting to see one of those little white cards screwed to the wall next to the painting with a little title like "the internal struggle of the human spirit", but there was nothing there, just the paint and the light.

The paint, well, it looked like shit.

I didn't mean it figuratively, I was serious, literal.

I moved a little closer, interested and horrified, and I practically had my nose against the glass frame when someone entered the room. I looked over there, and it was Chris. I smiled at him.

And then I felt my heart drop into my stomach because... Well, the summer had been very, very good with him.

Chris had always been three things: silly, joker and obsessed with music.

During the summer, had grown to the point that I had to look up to meet his eyes, and he had a pretty muscular body. Not the big, bulky kind you always picture when you hear those words, but long and toned ones.

He seemed... I wish I were a poet, but he looked beautiful in a strange, exotic way and when he said "Hi, Ada", I wanted to run up to him and trace the lines of his cheekbones with my fingers and then touch his hair.

And that's fine, the rest of it.

Although, I did not do it. I just said "Hi Chris, can you tell me what this is?, like he was normal old Chris, the one who had vomited just before giving an oral assignment in fifth grade and is not suddenly a wonderful creature whose face, that had all angles and was huge, with amazing blue eyes, It had come together in a way that worked and made me shiver.

"It's a painting” he mentions smiling at me. I had always liked Chris's smile, She was friendly and warm, but now in that face he had become, it was lethal.

“I, I kind of realized that.” I cleared my throat.

I knew from Anna that being beautiful wasn't all that great. Anna had changed in second and third grade. One day we were both first year girls, the next day, She was a supermodel who had an A-list girl as a best friend. Maybe it wasn't so dramatic, but it was quite sudden.

Anna had always been pretty, but she became beautiful quickly, and people had noticed it. She liked it at first, it was even all they noticed. And then she got used to it. That took a while though, and I remembered her screaming "I am more than breasts! You know?" to a boy we met at the shopping just after everything had changed for her, and then how I had cried that night in my room, hating that people looked at her and saw nothing more than her body and face.

“Looks like…" Chris remained silent, narrowing his eyes and looking at the painting.

"Shit?" I said, and then he smiled back at me. My stomach did a somersault with that smile and I swallowed hard. I told myself it was Chris, and that I had known and liked him forever.

The thing was, I had always liked him.

“That's what it looks like, but I don't think it is.” It still sounded the same, I still sounded like Chris, a voice that had been a little serious and deep for him before. Now he was laughing. “I think it's dust.” He pointed to the painting, careful not to touch the glass. “Look, do you see this?”

As soon as I saw Chris' reflection in the glass, I nodded anyway.

“Looks like a smudged handprint” I give it a short look, and then go back to see where it says. “Just like someone leaves a mark, time and nature wear it down. Maybe it's about what's left after you create something. The little you're not supposed to see, but that's what it has to be for a painting to exist.”

Now he actually sounded like the Chris I knew, the one who had greeted in the hallways every day last year, the one who was my friend.

“Or some boy just thought, hey, I have this gob of coffee, why don’t I smear it on a canvas?”

“Disgusting” we both laugh. “Where have you been all summer, anyway?”

"Me?" I'm ashamed to admit that I yelled at him.

“Yeah, I didn’t see you around.”

“That's because I was at home, helping out and all that.” explained. “My father paid me to paint the garage.”

Brilliant, now she sounded like a fourth grader. My dad paid me to paint the garage! I had no life!

“I painted too” speak. “Houses, I mean. Do not paint to paint. I did some of that, but most of it was at home, like I said.”

I relaxed a little more then, despite his appearance he was still Chris.

“So, that's how you got those muscles” I hit him on the arm. He shrugged, blushing a little. 

Imagine a boy, He is a little taller than you, with the perfect skin of those that scream "Touch me!" and long disheveled hair. He looks so sweet, and it is. Surely you can understand why I dropped the book I was still holding.

He bent down to take it at the same time as me, and for a moment we were so close that I could have leaned over and kissed him.

“Take” He extended the book to me. We were still so close, and he was looking at me, the smile in his eyes darkening into something deeper, more intense.

“Thank you” although I bet it sounded more like "garatyuhrh", and then I reached for the book and he handed it to me, his hands touching mine for a moment.

And then he said "Ada", and took my hand again. I looked down, my ears stained with the dark green my father wanted for the garage, and his hands were stained too, white and yellow, and the book slid to the floor as he did more than touch my hand. He held it, and slid his fingers into mine.

Our palms were pressed together, And all I could think of was a line I had read somewhere, about palms pressed together like a kiss, and he was still looking at me and then we were standing, still holding hands, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I could only watch and wait, waiting and breathless for him to move closer and closer and….

“Ada, You won't believe what I heard the game would be. It’s… Oh” 

It was Anna.

He looked straight at Chris, and smiled the smile she gave when she saw a boy she wanted to see.

"Hello you” she was splendid, tanned, Tall and beautiful, her black hair curled around her heart-shaped face, and I saw Chris smile back.

"Hello Anna” Chris greets her.

“What have you been doing this summer? “Come and tell me everything while I go to the store for some soda.” she smiled to me. “I have to go in a while. One more story about camping and I'll start screaming I swear, I wish I could have gone.”

"I know” Because he had been there when his mother said no, I tried not to notice that my hand was no longer touching Chris. “Don’t just bring Grape, okay?”

“I wouldn't just bring Grape , ok. I would, but I won't." He put his arm in Chris's as he led him out of the room, driving towards her as only she could, and by the time they returned with a few six-packs. Anna smiled at me, a pleasant, bright smile. “Chris likes Grape , too.” He throws me a can of Pepsi. "Your favorite."

“Mine too” Chris made that comment, but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at Anna, perplexed I would even say stunned, and I knew he wasn't going to turn around.

I looked at her, and she was smiling the smile she made when she saw a boy she wanted., and that's when I knew I was going to get it because that's who she was and what she did.

I saw that I had already achieved it.

I went to the kitchen to drink my Pepsi. I served it in a glass with ice. I waited for the effervescence to dissolve. Delay techniques, and by the time I took it and returned to where Anna was, she and Chris were sitting together, talking.

Anna was nodding attentively, like everything he was saying meant to her. Chris was still looking at her slightly dazed, but then he looked at me and started to say something, and then Anna touched his face and kissed him in front of everyone.

And there it was. He was hers.

He could have talked to me first. He might have even held my hand first. But that didn't matter.

Except for me.

જ⁀➴ taglis. @l34n @jetaimevous @jnkvivi @loveyoumatthewbernard @d1tzy-bl0nde @laxbabe131147 @slut4chriss @dontellaf1lms @surniolozzzprincess @sturnlova @inlovewithchriss @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsgirlsblog

a.n. If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment below and I will add you. Thanks for reading, remember to like, share with your friends and leave a nice comment ^^

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo soft #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #christianity #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfiction #sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈

[sgiandubh]

Five minutes of Instagram fame

The Brazilian fan is back with more attention-grabbing content, one week after she had thousands of eyes on her London shenanigans. Which I am not going to discuss, simply because I do believe there is no need to give the anecdote more space than it deserves. Enough is enough, and the apparent collective loss of all sense of measure is a sure sign that pause is needed, in that department.

What I am going to discuss, however, is the chutzpah of a 23 year old Nobody, who just wishes to keep those five minutes of fame rolling on and on and on.

Yesterday, she felt compelled to publish another batch of Instagram stories, in which she delivers her Toxic Shipping 101 lecture:

In the process, she basically just rephrases the main Anti Bible arguments, calls thousands of people 'insane', quotes two influential shipper blogs (slàinte mhath, @bat-cat-reader!) that didn't even come close to what I wrote about her, brings on board her mother and grandmother just to explain how upset she was about 'older American women picking up on her'. And ends with a rather pathetic plea for all of us, shippers, to 'seek immediate medical attention'. Same unnerving sotaque Paulista (São Paulo accent), with a posh and very fake tinge of British English. Same incoherent, amateur and immature discourse, endlessly seeking to bring attention to herself, mildly trying to victimize herself. Blah, blah.

I would have given her grace, were it not for this particular argument, in response to a X user asking a rather uncomfortable question, as she definitely has the constitutional right to do:

'OH God, not her again 23 yr old Brazilian trying to be a reporter in London, complete fail. but in BIG OL LONDON, 'JUST HAPPENED' TO Spot Sam, how dumb do you think we all are?'

Answer is the real dumb part of the story, if you ask me, especially coming from a very young woman: 'Forbidden to be a journalist and meet a celebrity in the street. Forbidden to go for a walk as a journalist, paging all my colleagues, ok? I had no clue I could be as scheming as they say I am.'

Ok, buttercup: it is my honest understanding that you want to be taken seriously and treated as a professional, right? Did I miss something, here?

Right. As the daughter of a journalist and a former Government expert in media policies (specifically dealing with media content broadcasting), I am going to do exactly this and honestly ask you, Mrs. Silva:

Do you consider, in all good faith, that you acted like a professional journalist, in this very circumstance?

Do you consider to have kept your impartiality and have you at least checked all the relevant facts and POVs, before slandering all those people on your social media account? Or did you content yourself to report the hearsay shared with you by other bloggers, and just conveniently quoted four random bloggers and commenters?

Have you the slightest idea that one of the commenters who reached out to you on Instagram, questioning your version of the facts, is not even a shipper (and actually, very violently far from being one)?

During the week separating your first post and this reaction to people's feedback, have you or have you not respected your due diligence obligation to contact and engage with the people you so easily treat as a bit less than the scum of the Earth?

Did you or did you not ask for permission to quote their published content on your social media account, especially in a polemic context?

Unlike you, I have diligently perused both your website and your Linked In account. Maybe it is time to tell all those people you have insulted the truth about who you are, professionally, at this very moment:

Marketing student, 3rd semester.

Let me count: 3 internships (correct me if I am wrong), in various junior positions for 1 local media outlet, 1 international corporation and 1 website, 4 different jobs - or should I say 'stints' (3 with your current employer, 1 as a freelancer for a local media outlet).

Still learning. There is absolutely nothing bad about it. But you have still a LONG way to go until you could pretend to be a real voice. And there is nothing in what you posted that could grab my professional attention and make me hire you. Quite the contrary and, believe it or not, I am awfully sorry to say so.

My three free and totally unsolicited pieces of advice:

Always check your facts, always get in touch with the people you plan to write about. In fact, your anger and ego got the best of your professional self and you lost a great opportunity for a paper you could have even titled ' Viagem na Shipperlândia' (A Trip to Shipperland). I would have read that. But you haven't. You preferred to act just like all the other 23 year old girls and make a belly-button story about yourself.

Never bring your family forward in questionable contexts. You expose people who have nothing to do with the irrelevant insanity of a fandom war, to which you contributed your own, perhaps involuntary, dose of chaos and unnecessary drama.

Never lie on your Linked In resume. Potential employers might and will read it. Never write things like:

.. when you also fail to accurately describe your former job position, denoting poor spelling:

Especially when words are your craft, bread and butter. The devil is always in the details:

As I mentioned in a previous post, you could have been my daughter. I have been that 23 year old girl myself, desperate to list every single internship and tempted to inflate language proficiency, in the hope it would land me the job of my dreams. And I have learned the hard way that being a true professional is cancelling your ego.

You'll learn. Until then, stop bitching on things you have no idea about and act like an adult, not an attention hungry teenager. This comes from a place of tough love: sometimes, the most effective life lessons are given by complete strangers.

#fandom #shitshow

[komorezuki]

Time for crack theories. Has anyone already supposed that Metatron can be really the God themselves?

Disclaimer: no one hecked my English spelling today so there must be many mistakes. I 'd appreciate it if you point out my mistakes in dm. (￣▽￣人)

Where are your arguments Kmrzk, you can ask. Well, first, I thought about his nature and I think he is not an archon, he is something other. Let's look at his nature again: he was never a human, he is above all angels and is still missing in the employee database. He is the Voice of God. "To speak to me is to speak to God. I am the voice of the Almighty."

Ok it's curious but not enough. What if I can give some assumptions about his actions? What if it was Almighty's actions?

Final fiftheen

I don't believe he is evil. Can we assume that his conversation with Azicrow was a testing of them all? Almighty definitely knows all they both did, because this is, you know, ALMIGHTY. What does She like to do? TESTING. She is testing Her children, and She has the ineffable plan blablablabla. She gives free will to people to see what they will choose. The same is about Azicrow. She is just looking at what they will choose.

The trial

Metatron's conversation during the trial. Seems he is the boss there (he really is). I always thought why Gabriel cant decide, and I think he can and he knows it. I am the only First Order archangel,  I'm the only one in this department who has a degree in ass-kicking, I went to Ass-Kicking University and something something. Angels are testing him trying to frighten by the Fall, and he is like ok drop me and what's next? i am still saying nah. Even the threat of memory erasing can't make him change his mind. Testing is passed, I guess. Gabriel is free, and he will not be pursued.

Michael/Uriel

PROBABLY Almighty/Metatron (i will say "A/M" about they both in the future) also tests Michael and Uriel. At least their hunger of power. They fight for being in charge. And Michael treats Azi. Then A/M arrives and says "fuck you michael an fuck you uriel too you can't even do anything".

Of course, as an angel, Uriel worries about doing Good and Right Things. And A/M is like "we will see. Fuck off you all and by the way I am going to make this soft principality your boss, so deal with it. Let's look at what you will do". Archangel's testing goes on, and I am wondered if they will pass it.

Muriel

They are really an open-minded angel. All that you need is giving them knowledge. And that's what A/M does.

Conclusion

My opinion: M is either God's incarnation or an executor of God's will. He is associated with Sunday from the book "The Man Who Was Thursday" (@kayleefansposts thank you for this). Anyway, Almighty and M are on the same side, and M knows what he does. I think that the final goal of A/M's testing is pushing to the realization of the free will and making their own plans and decisions. That's what Gab did, that's what Azi has to do. That's what other angels can (or can't) do.

But where are demons here???

As you see, I didn't include demons in A/M's to-do list, and that's for the reason. Demons have already made their own decision and fall for that. They passed this test by default, and A/M literally says this about Crowley. Also notice that Saraqael isn't tested. Another argument in favor of my demon!Saraqael theory.

BONUS

M ingested things in his time, but he wasn't a human. What if we consider M as God's avatar? That happened at once, you know, there was a guy who said like "love each other" and so on. By the way, he promised to come back. And that's what M is preparing. The Second Coming is started by Jesus 2.0. Do what you want with it.

#what if #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #good omens demons #aziracrow #crowley #good omens meta #good omens heaven #good omens theory #good omens theories #good omens speculation #metatron good omens #the metatron #the final fiftheen #archangel fucking aziraphale #archangel fucking gabriel #archangel gabriel #archangel uriel #archangel michael #good omens analysis #go meta #go2 meta #good omens angels

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: smut, masturbation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving)

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

She leaned back on her elbows for a moment, then they gave up and she crashed upon the bed sated and giddy. Fire licked across her skin from her thighs up past her tummy to nestle in her heart. Every breath was sweet and the naked darkness was the finest cover. She smiled, a little love-drunk, as she let her mind swim in the feeling for a little longer. Tom was sitting on the floor just at her feet, his cold hands rubbing up and down her ankles. She could feel his gaze slide over her but she no longer felt ashamed or shy. She just enjoyed knowing him there. Opening her eyes slightly and looking down at him, she smiled at the sight of his pale face in the darkness, his messy hair, his smile. He looked so smug… The bastard.

“Happy?” she quietly asked.

“Not as happy as you,” he said with a cocked brow.

“That’s… undeniably true,” she purred, and rubbed a teasing foot over the bulge in his trousers.

Tom hissed and gripped her ankle tighter. “Don’t play with me.”

“Alright,” she said, grinning lazily, and with a silky motion that was unlike any she’d been capable of before she pulled her legs up and curled up on the bed, laying on her side before him. “Play with yourself, then.”

He glared at her a moment as if unsure, distrusting, and… afraid? Tom was harder to read than the maiden text of a palimpsest, she hated that about him. And loved him a little for it too…

“Come on,” she pleaded. “I want to see.”

He huffed and it came out like a whine from his strained throat. But he didn’t need much encouragement, he was aching for it, even she could tell. His thin white hands undid his trousers quickly and, with his eyes still fixed on her, rolled them down his hips. He pulled his cock out while still kneeling on the floor before her. She bit her lip as she watched him, blood rushing once again to fill her face. Hurriedly she stretched to untie the belt from around her legs, pulled her panties off, then sat upright to watch him. Tom unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while the other kept tugging at his shaft, his lips closed tightly, in control.

She could hear the wetness as it coated his fingers, his thighs, and lower, could almost see beneath his fist a hint of that plush sac that hung low and full beneath him. Above, on every downward stroke, the pink head peeked out and she so ached to kiss it… It drooled over his fingers, a clear lick of slick sliding down and shining in the low light like a tear. Tom moaned deep in his throat and moved the other hand beneath him, cupping himself. He closed his eyes, back straightened, chest peeking in a straight white line from behind his opened shirt, shiny with sweat… He was so beautiful.

She braced her hands upon the bed and with a rush of courage parted her legs. Her breasts were cold, her nipples peaking, the shift just a pool at her waist, and between her thighs she let him see the swollen, blushing mess he’d made. Tom’s eyes opened, smouldering.

“Wider,” he hissed.

She smiled and obeyed him, leaning back braced on her arms to show him everything. Her heart fluttered and she moaned when she felt her wet lips parting, plush and sticky and so very warm. Her wetness trickled, cooling on the angles between her thighs and torso.

“Tom,” she whispered, arcing her back, presenting herself as if his look could touch her. “I want your cum, right here… between my legs…”

He glared up at her from beneath his ruffled hair, his lips so tight they were an angry line. “Oh, you pretend to be a good girl,” he chuckled from behind clenched teeth. “But you’re very naughty, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Is this what you’re thinking of, hm? When you’re pretending to work?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

He held back a laugh as if he really did know.

“You’re insufferable,” she huffed.

“You love it.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “Come on, Tom, let me see what it’s like… Do it, then I’ll kiss you.”

“Promises, promises…”

He cupped his sac with one hand while the other one moved faster, noisier, flicking beads of precum all over his lower stomach. She squirmed on the bed and heard him moan when, with an inner tickle, a fresh sliver of desire started dripping out of her. The hand that was playing with his sac faltered and with a pained sound he tilted his head back. The long line of his neck arched like a beam of light in the dark.

His hand stilled then his hips started to thrust, and with some effort, he opened his eyes again to look at her. With his gaze fixed upon her slit, still pulsing and leaking and winking at him, Tom gently leaned forward and rested his head on her thigh. She inhaled through her teeth. He was so cold against her skin… But his dark eyes were like two burning coals.

“Do you like it?” she teasingly asked.

He nodded, looking thirsty and hungry and hurt.

“Then kiss it.”

He looked into her eyes then, his face as pale and motionless as a mask but managing a glare.

“Kiss it nicely,” she said again, a cruel smile on her lips.

To help him, she tilted her hips a little higher and brought one shaky hand down to her lips. She pressed the pillowy flesh aside, not that he needed it, and showed him more of her. Her clit was sticking out from its hood, still hard and throbbing.

“If I’m not a good girl, then maybe you can be a good boy instead...”

Tom smirked and took a deep breath in, licking his lips as his gaze turned back down to her softest parts. He teased her a little, pretending to dip his head for a kiss, then pulling back.

“You’re evil,” she groaned.

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

But then he lowered his head and she felt his lips against her. “Aaah! T-tom… Yes, right there…”

She could feel his cheek against her fingers and the rapid shifting of his shoulder on her leg as he rubbed his cock for her. He groaned but his lips pulled her nub between them, giving it a few quick suckling kisses.

“Tom,” she whispered, her head falling back in another lustful daze. “So good…”

He laughed between her legs but didn’t have any smart comments this time. Instead, his upper lip caught her clit beneath it and he slid his tongue below to lap at her throbbing hole.

She mewled in pleasure, her core clenching almost painfully as he dragged his tongue up slowly, then let it fall back down against to clean her. His moans and breathy cries cut his attention short, and with a few more sharp, hard jerks, he finished. Tom buried his cries into her thigh, biting at it loosely.

“Let me feel it,” she asked, her fingers moving to brush through his dark hair. “I want to feel it on my skin, please, Tom…”

With a parting kiss, he hurried to his feet, standing a little shaky, and dirtied her thighs with the last of his cum as it dripped out. His tip was an angry purple by now, peeking out from the soft skin around it that was as pale as all the rest of him. His fist was resting at the root, squeezing, holding it for her. Her eyes went wide at the sight of that small hole at his tip, flexing in its own way to spew his seed out in slow splutters. It landed on her inner thighs and from there dripped down to the floor.

“What a good boy,” she whispered, speaking without even thinking. “You were such a good boy for me, Tom…”

A choked little sound came out of him that almost didn’t seem like him — the part of him he’s shown to her so far. Did Tom have a thing for being praised? Perhaps.

“There’s so much of it,” she smiled, looking — without minding one bit about the mess — at the amount that had plopped onto the floor.

She traced a finger on her thigh, drawing small white circles while Tom caught his breath above her, fist still firm but all forgotten at his root. She looked up at him, her smile widening into a grin, and leaned forward to kiss a bead of sweat off of his stomach. Tom groaned and she felt his muscles tense.

“Do you want more?” he asked cockily.

“Hmm… Not right now.”

He smiled but didn’t hide that he was a little disappointed. It wasn’t lost on her. She reached up to take his hand and held it gently then slowly pulled him down onto the bed with her. With a light bounce, Tom fell onto the mattress limply, his chest heaving up and down just as hers was earlier. As he settled on her bed she got up quickly and before he could ask where she went he heard a click, and the room went dark. She’d just gone to turn the lamp off.

Tom curled up on his side, too lazy to even pull his trousers up. He licked the taste of her off his lips again and sighed, tired and content. From somewhere out there in the dark, she giggled as she approached the bed. Then he felt her breath upon his lower back and barely had time to react before he felt the quick and gentle peck of a kiss on the flesh of his behind.

“What are you doing?” he turned, feeling somewhat scandalised.

“Sorry,” she giggled, sounding not sorry at all. “Couldn’t help it. It’s so round.”

“You’re an animal… Get in bed.”

As silent as a ghost, she slid in beside him, crossing him to get to the other side that faced the wall. She kissed his cheek and tugged the shirt off him, and then his trousers too. Tom groaned but moved to help, rolling onto his back. Then, with still shaking hands, she pulled the straps back up her shoulders and dragged the duvet up.

“So you’ll stay with me tonight?” she gently said, nuzzling his shoulder.

“I guess I can’t refuse you anything,” he said, smiling tiredly.

She grinned and kissed him on the lips, a little peck to wish him sweet dreams, and tucked them both in for the night.

II

Tom dreamed about her. He must have been because he was hearing her voice in his sleep. She was telling him she would come back with him to England — which was strange, as he had never asked her to as far as he remembered — and asked if he’d finished killing him — which he instinctively knew meant the Baron — and then giggled at something that he said — a reaction which made him inexplicably happy.

His eyes opened and it was around now, when he took in her bedroom awash in morning light, that he realised she was talking, but not to him.

Tom was curled up beneath her floral, fluffy duvet in only his white undershirt and trunks. Her bed was soft and there were pillows aplenty, but the duvet was not wide enough for both of them. They had to cuddle… She must have pulled his socks off too at some point because his feet were cold where they stuck out at the bottom.

And he’d been so warm last night… He remembered fragments of it. Her hot cheek on his chest, her arms around him, her breath and her lashes and her soft hair tickling his skin. She’d thrown one leg over both of his and had one hand playing in his hair. She seemed to like it… He was already planning how to style it, just to please her more.

Tom had clung to her embarrassingly tightly, like a child with a favourite toy. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he could feel the smile on her lips.

Without turning his head, his eyes found her.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

[chained-sweater]

Steve Headcanons:

Basic:

Gender → AMAB - Identifies as male.

Sexuality → Gay.

Ethnicity → German (his father) & French. (His mother.)

Pronouns → He/Him

Main Language(s) → English (main) & German. (Only for communicating with his father, who can't speak English.)

Extra:

♪ He's never met his mother.

· His father never mentions her. Whenever Steve asks about her, his father either leaves the room or tells Steve to go out with his friends so he can be alone.

↑ This just increases Steve's curiousity even more.

· There are no photos of her anywhere in the house.

· Steve desperately wants to know more about his mother, but doesn't pressure his father into talking about her. (He doesn't want to get kicked out.)

♪ He's good friends with Evie.

· When they started dating, it was when Steve was very confused about his sexuality.

↑ Steve had developed a small crush on Soda a few years back, but it wasn't anything serious.

↑ It was only after a few months of dating Evie did he realize that he felt nothing for her.

↑ That's when he found out he didn't like girls. (And when he realized he was head-over-heels, so deeply in love with his best friend.)

· He was really nervous to come out to Evie.

↑ When he did come out, he almost cried with relief when Evie offered him her unconditional support.

↑ She also used Steve's coming out as an opportunity to tell him she was lesbian.

↑ Steve was shocked.

· They wanted to break up with each other, but couldn't come up with a good enough reason without sounding cheesy. (It's the 1960s and people are very homophobic during this time. Telling the public that they're gay is definitely not an option. And it's primarily due to the fact that the Socs suck ass and will use it as a way to torment then even more.)

↑ So they stay together for a little while longer.

↑ When Sandy dumped Soda, Steve and Evie took advantage of it and used it in a way to officially split up. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense.)

♪ His relationship with his dad is rocky. (That's basically canon, but I'm going to elaborate on this.)

· Steve doesn't hate his father. He just hates the fact that they argue a lot.

↑ When they aren't arguing, they're actually pretty close.

↑ Usually due of the fact that his dad is a single father and raised Steve himself.

↑ And also because his dad had Steve at a pretty young age. (He was seventeen when Steve was born.)

· He once asked his dad if he'd ever find a date. (He really wants a stepmom of some sort to look up to. Poor boy.)

↑ His dad went really quiet for a long time when Steve asked and Steve noticed that he look scared. (Scared being generous—his father was absolutely terrified.)

↑ When he asked him if he was alright, Steve was very shocked (and concerned) when his father burst into tears and ran off to his bedroom.

↑ Steve never asked him anything like that again, but it made him believe that his dad's relationship experience with his mom was very toxic/abusive in some way.

♡

I'm gonna end it here.

Feel free to leave any questions you have. 🤗

(And yes, I'm doing the entire gang, so don't worry.)

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #steve randle #steve randle's father #steve randle headcanons #implied stevepop #evie the outsiders

[ineffablecpp]

OK so my first Johnlock fic. Canon divergence. Post Reichenbach. Scifi AU. HE (sort of).

English isn't my first language so if you find any mistakes pls tell me!! Thanks so much!!!

I'm Here.

1.

John had just exited the door of 221B Baker Street and was about to call a taxi when he saw the car.

It’s been over a year since he last visited this place-- he only came today because Mrs. Hudson called, and wanted to return some of his personal items left in the apartment. She insisted that paying a visit could better John’s mental conditions, though John wouldn’t agree. Yet she seemed determined about it.

“You should know that he loved this place, John. He loved the time he spent here, with you.” She said.

There weren’t many things he needed to retrieve. A mug, a few of his clothes, and a notebook that hasn’t been written on for ages. But he lingered in the room he was only too familiar with.

“Moving on” was never his thing. Any time he lifted his head up and gazed at the two vacant seats, the dimmed fireplace in between, and the dusty mirror above, everything would rewind inside his head.

His roommate would put his palms together under his chin, his smile as mysterious and proud as always. “You simply see, but not observe,” he’d say in his low and magnetic voice, “What is going on in your funny little brains? So confusing-- the evidence is right in front of you, yet you do not know how to analyse it.”

He might even be sitting on the chair now, looking up banteringly at John. *Sentiment*, he’d say, *you’ve always been like that. Fascinating.*

It took as much courage to come as it took to take up the mind to leave. John felt his heart hallowed out as he stumbled down the last step, opening the door of 221B and said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson. But the hole seemed to have been there for ages-- once, three years ago, it was filled in the echoes of “Afghanistan or Iraq?”-- but now it has reappeared along with the sudden Fall. But revisiting this painfully familiar place reinforced the presence of the hallowed space, as its roars were too much of a sting to be ignored.

A black vehicle was parked by the road. At first John didn’t take notice, nor was he in the mood to care-- probably just a passenger who happened to have reached their destination. But before he could walk away, his phone started ringing.

“Get in the car.”

He knew who it was without asking. But the question was-- he hasn’t heard of the voice in ages. So long, it made him wonder whether it was in his past lives that he’d gotten used to being pulled on a car without reasons.

“...Mycroft? I really couldn’t guess what you possibly could need from me now.”

The voice on the other end sighed after a moment of silence.

“It’s about Sherlock, John.”

The name cut through his heart like a blade. Everyone was still talking about him, as if it’s not over yet. But he was the only one who knew that it was all over. Everything from the past, every memory, every nuanced flutter he felt had been buried into a tomb called time.

Even so, Sherlock’s name was like a spell that could compell John to do anything at his own will. If his friend was in trouble, even after his death, John knew he had to help. It was his deepest and most desperate wish.

John sighed, and pulled open the car door.

2.

The elder Holmes in front of him didn’t change much since their last encounter, which got John wondering in frustration whether Sherlock’s death had effected him so destructively more than anyone. But Mycroft seemed to have been fatigued by his work-- even though all the Holmes had a sort of talent for hiding their true emotions and mental status, John could feel that Mycroft’s workload in the past years have only been increasing.

For a few seconds they just stood there in dead silence until Mycroft took out his empty hand which wasn’t holding the umbrella to break the ice: “Good to see you again, John.”

“Likewise.” John shook his hand and took a deep breath, “So. What you said. About Sherlock. What is it? His will? Or something about the media?”

Mycroft hesitated-- not something he normally does. This fueled the doubt in John’s mind since his arrival. Mycroft only had three reasons to see him: 1, Sherlock wouldn’t accept his help, and he needed John to look after his brother; 2, The government needs Sherlock’s help but he refuses to, so Mycroft needs John to persuade him; 3, Sherlock’s in danger, and he needs John to figure out what’s going on to protect him. This time, however, doesn’t fall into any of the categories.

Then his words froze John on the spot.

“...Sherlock isn’t dead. But, precisely, he isn’t alive either. I’m truly sorry we haven’t told you earlier, John. But now that it’s all settled, we think you have the right to know.”

John blinked, staring puzzled at Mycroft.

“What do you mean by... He’s not dead, but not alive either?”

Mycroft thought for a while before he started: “As Moriarty became to much of a threat to be overlooked, Sherlock and I started to come up with a few possible plans. He saw it coming that Moriarty wouldn’t make things easy for him, and he foresaw that Moriarty was going to hold his dearest friends as hostages-- Moriarty would never stop until he sees Sherlock’s dead body. One way was for Sherlock to fake his death, change his identity and leave the country for a few years, returning after his reputation has been cleared. But Moriarty blocked every way out on that roof of Bartz. He took away Sherlock’s phone and cut all possible communication pathways, so all the plans that required him faking his death wasn’t going to work. But, we still had a plan B. The last resort. A plan that could barely be called one.”

John nodded, signaling him to continue.

“This plan requires the most advanced scientific team at my disposal. It’s an unprecedented risk, a huge, long-shot bet. --preserving human organ at low temperature. This technology has appeared long before, but even a few hours of preservation takes strict environmental conditions and advanced equipment. You’d know best as a doctor. We did it with little hope, but miraculously, it was a success. Within minutes after Sherlock’s fall, we managed to preserve his brain. But what came next was only more complicated and impossible.

A super bio-computer. In fact, the government had a blueprint for this plan several years ago, but due to its high technical difficulties, cost and energy consumption, it was never implemented. Using the human brain to connect sensors for data transmission, after connecting to the Internet interface, you can access all the information currently possessed by humans, and have ultra-high computing power.”

“So... you made him... into a computer? Is that even moral? Did he agree?” Overwhelming information and a series of perplexing nouns rushed into his brain, and for a moment John felt as if his legs were giving up.

“You can put it like this. In other words, he is now basically a computer working for the British Government with self-entertaining software installed.”

John lifted his chin up, staring unbelievably into Mycroft’s calm eyes, to which he responded with a helpless sigh, “It really was the worst move.”

John closed his eyes. Though he’s always considered his roommate “a machine with no human feelings”, it now seemed like an unfortunate prophecy he did not wish to have made. He was now imagining Sherlock’s brain floating in a tank filled with nutrient solution, multiple sensors and intersected data transmitters attached to it, the entire cabin lit with dim lights, performing countless calculations within second -- from the probability of a terrorist attack to the likeness of a traffic accident, from one side of the world to the other-- all the while joyfully extracting interesting cases from documents and cracking them one by one at a rate countless times faster than before. He had to admit that Sherlock was probably enjoying this. But beneath all these absurd yet rational incidents a question still lies, one that he cares too much to ignore.

“Then... can he still feel everything? Feel the world around him? Or... communicate with us?”

“Sadly we’ve never succeeded in doing so. We haven’t completely mastered this technology yet, so all we could do is to solve one problem after another and analyse what we get like a Black Box. For now, what he could know, and what he could feel, remains unknown.”

Not dead, yet not alive either. It was now coming to John how fitting a description it was.

Sherlock was never someone who blended into the society, or someone who’s used to complicated social relationships. On the contrary, he always seemed to be walking on the edge of everything, a sane lunatic, a sober drug addict. This way of being now is like a portrait of him "before death" : an emotionless machine, an observer outside the world.

But without a body, with out the final proof of being “human”, will you remain to be “you”?

John realized he couldn’t come to a conclusion.

3.

Mycroft lead him through winding hallways, one locked room after another, and they finally reached a small door that didn’t seem to stand out at all.

The sign at the entrance reads in large, bold letters: "Experimental Base - Do not enter".

“Whenever you’re ready, John.” Mycroft nodded slightly, and laid his hand on the silver door knob.

John closed his eyes, and nodded after a few deep breaths.

The door opened, giving way to him.

Things were very different from what he had imagined. There was no brain floating in the middle of the tank, no flickering lights and darkened halls, no shrill whining of instruments. It was just an ordinary room, in fact, quite similar to his memory of a high school classroom-- only that where the whiteboard should be, there was a giant display screen; On the desk where the lectern is supposed to be, lies a computer with a small screen and only one input box that took up half the screen.

Then it came to John. Such delicate thing as a brain culture tank could never have been accessible for tour. This was just the operating interface connected to the biocomputer for testing inputs and outputs.

He turned around, but there was no one else left in the room. Mycroft had given him privacy.

John sighed, forcing himself to turn to the blank screen. This *is* Sherlock, he told himself, this is who your best friend is now. Whether you like it or not, it’s him.

And now you’re here to visit.

Slowly, he walked towards the table, and placed his hands on the keyboard. After a few moments of silence, he typed out his first question.

“Tell me about identifying 243 types of ashes.”

Enter.

The cursor on the large screen flashed for a moment, then waves of information began to emerge. John could tell that a considerable percentage of them came from Sherlock’s essay from his website, but other information came from different sources, so its identification methods and usages could be explained clearly to whoever asked the question. The narration seemed Wikipedia-styled, calm and objective, exactly like the answer of a machine.

It *is* a machine, John reminded himself. That’s what he is now.

“You still remembered quite clearly.”

The keyboard clicked as he typed.

“Please tell me the basic structure of the Solar System.”

Again, after a few seconds, it gave a clear and precise answer, even presenting a graph showing the spatial relationship between the sun and the various planets, and giving the orbital parameters of each planet.

“I see you finally have enough memory for this,” he lowered his head, a giggle escaping his lips.

Then he tried asking many other questions -- mostly things that a normal person with a lot of spare time on their hands might Google. He also tried searching some of the cases they investigated together, and Sherlock-- the computer-- gave every single detail without mistake. John marveled at the amount of advanced technology used in this project, but at the same time, he found himself reading the information in his head using Sherlock’s voice, an impulse he couldn’t resist. Every word he read echoed with Sherlock’s voice in his mind like a prerecorded audio.

“Please tell me the stories of Sherlock Holmes.”

This time it took longer for the computer to buffer. Then, Sherlock’s identity, main achievements and relevant information started appearing on the screen. First his personal information, date of birth and death, family relationships and so on. “Working partner: confirmed bachelor John Watson.” Smiling, he shook his head. *These media workers are ever so rude.*

This was followed by a brief synopsis of a series of cases he has solved, many of which derived from John's blog, and some of which even canonical references to his blog's "literature review." The text scrolled along at a pace John’s comfortable with.

Then followed the media’s comments on him. First they were news before Moriarty messed with people’s minds. “The Reichenbach hero”, “Hat-man and Robin”, “Highly intellectual detective”, all of which John was familiar with. Seeing them again pulled on John’s heartstrings. But it was just pain-- it was a bittersweet warmth, a sense of retrieving a long lost possession.

Public opinions seemed to had turned against him overnight. The forces of group polarization were so powerful that all it took is a groundless suspicion to condemn someone once on a pedestal, to hell. There's a fine line between a hero and a demon. John didn't want to read any further -- he clenched his fists, felt the cruel words whirling and screaming in his head, rattling his already fragile nerves again and again.

*No, he's not like that. I know him, and I know him best. He is the wisest and bravest man I have ever known. He would never do such a thing. He would never--*

“THUMP!”

The next thing he knew he punched the desk with his fists.

The output on the screen came to a sudden halt. The cursor stopped at the last unfinished sentence, flashing like a puzzled child’s eyes.

He had an impulse to smash open the obnoxious screen in front of him, and scream to Sherlock himself. But what could he possibly say? What could he possibly do? Not to mention that yelling at a brain that’s already lost its sensing functions cannot solve anything.

It’s too late.

It’s always too late.

*You’re* the mad ones, *you’re* the arrogant people-- he’s gone already, so why on earth does he deserve to be treated by the world like this.

John felt the flames inside slowly consuming every last part of him, burning his throat, and spreading into his stinging eyes.

He shoved back the keyboard, and slowly allowed himself to bend over the table, lying on his arms, until all there was left in the empty room were suppressed, sobbing sounds.

He didn’t know how long it had been-- probably to the point where John worried Mycroft couldn’t wait any longer-- until he finally straightened up, refocusing his sight on the screen from a blurred vision.

The last search record has been cleared, and the screen has returned to a blank, vacant image, like how the universe was before the Big Bang.

He gently pulled the keyboard back in front of him, typed, slowly but solemnly, and not pressing enter.

He heard footstep drawing near-- possibly from Mycroft. Straightening his collar, John took one last look at the screen, turned around, and left.

The unsent message lit a silent white light in the room, like a calm, grieving soul.

“I love you.”

4.

John hasn’t written anything on his blog for a long time.

Occasionally he still helped out Scotland Yard on some trivial matters, but they were nothing compared to the excitement and thrills that constantly struck him when he was on a case with Sherlock. The feeling of blood pumping through his veins once reminded him of what “being alive” feels like. And now, everything was back to normal. Sometimes the thought would hit John, that maybe everything that happened in the last few years was just a dream too good to be true. Maybe he never met such a man after returning from Afghanistan, a man who could tell everything you did yesterday, who liked to talk to skulls in a surprisingly fast pace, who could solve the strangest and hardest cases in the world.

But everything around him was a constant reminder that it was true. Everything did, in fact, happened.

And he couldn’t tell which was more painful.

On the way back, John allowed himself to replay every single memory he had since he met Sherlock like a movie, as he watched the rain picking up outside the car window.

Sherlock taking his phone, asking, *Afghanistan or Iraq*?

Sherlock rushing down the stairs then turning back towards the door, the light flashing dangerous signals inside his eyes, a fascination that took him spellbound. *You’ve seen a lot of blood and injuries, violent deaths, then? Want to see some more?*

Sherlock at Angelo’s, pausing slightly after being asked “do you have a boyfriend, then?”

Sherlock’s look of shock and subtle delight after he blurted out “amazing” without thinking.

Sherlock’s proud and effortless look after every time he solved Moriarty’s puzzles.

Sherlock standing in front of the door of 221B, looking at him with a smile. *I’d be lost without my blogger*.

Sherlock pulling the coat embedded with bombs off him by the pool, for the first time he’s ever seen, in panic and relief.

Sherlock walking behind him in Baskeville, in his most sincere tone, *I don’t have friends; I just got one*.

The Woman looking at him, an either teasing or scornful tone, *Are you jealous? You are a couple.*

Sherlock handcuffed together with him, raising his hand to fire a gun into the sky.

They were dashing as fast as possible on the streets in London as accomplices. He heard Sherlock utter, *take my hand*.

Then he did.

Sherlock standing on the rooftop of Bartz holding his phone, alone.*Goodbye, John*. He said.

Then he did.

...

He felt himself reliving those years as Mycroft parked his car in front of 221B.

Every memory were brand new, yet so fresh they were dipped with bright, red blood, dripping down along John’s heart, dripping into the very depths of his aching soul.

When he came home this time he opened his blog website once again. He wanted a formal farewell to the Sherlock of his past, and he wanted to continue their story. It may be a lot more plain and dull than it used to be, but he believed that Sherlock, now a machine for calculation, could see. No matter if he could comprehend, or if he could remember, every letter John wrote would enter his database through the transmission lines and become a part of him.

Entering username. Password.

Wrong password.

Perhaps he mis-typed a letter.

He deleted it, and tried once more.

Wrong password.

John frowned. He didn’t remember changing his password even once in the past years. Though Sherlock had cracked it within a day, he didn’t really care that much, nor do something about it; even if he changed his password, all Sherlock would have to do was to crack it again. It would be useless. --Furthermore, even if Sherlock saw it, it wasn’t a big deal. He’s Sherlock Holmes.

...He’s Sherlock Holmes.

The sentence echoed louder and louder inside his mind.

*He’s Sherlock Holmes.*

Who could’ve possibly changed John Watson’s password except him? He’s always kept the laptop beside him, and even Moriarty, who once broke into his account, had now killed himself and was no longer here.

“When all the other possibilities are ruled out, and there is only one left, no matter how impossible it is, it’s the truth.”

It was Sherlock who changed it, John. A voice inside his head said ever so firmly.

John could feel his heart racing faster and faster. Yes, Sherlock has access to all the information possible on the internet now. It would only take a few lines of code to alter the password of a blog account. But why would he? And what would he change it into?

*Think, John, think.* He heard Sherlock’s voice.

What is a code that only belongs to them? What is a metaphor that only they knew? What code could only be cracked by John Watson?

His fingers trembled as he started typing.

*Vatican cameos.

...

Logged in.

5.

John could barely contain the tremors in his fingers as he scrolled down the page in great effort.

He clicked into some of his most read blogs immediately. No new messages, no new comments. The numbers of views were still rising.

For a moment he started to doubt whether he himself had changed the password in memory of their past, but forgot about it after grieving day after day.

Until he scrolled back to the top of the page.*

You have one new private message.*

Unknown address. Unknown sender.

The message was simple.

“I’m here.

-- S.H.”

His hand hovered above the keyboard. For the split of a second he seemed to forgot how to breath and how to make his own heart beat. The word spun and collapsed from around him, falling apart into an ocean of chaos and darkness. The only anchor in thunderous waves and dizzying swirls was the computer and the simple message on the screen. It kept him from falling down, and kept him safe and steady.

John felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket.

One new message.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face.

-- S.H.”

A complex wave of emotions flooded him. He felt himself smiling, so uncontrollably like a child who retrieved his favorite, lost toy, but there were uncontrollable tears streaming down his face, dripping hard onto the keyboard in front of him, a symphonic harmony with the pouring rain outside his window.

“You’re a complete jerk.”

“When all that’s left of you is a brain, it’s likely you’ll also become more reckless. No one can ever punch you in the face again.

-- S.H.”

“...Utterly unbelievable.”

“John, for your information, I can still see the messages in the input box even if they weren’t sent.

-- S.H.”

“...”

“John?

-- S.H.”

“I’m here.”

“I heard you.

-- S.H.”

END.

#bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock holmes #long post

[lucy90712]

English love affair- Fermin Lopez

A/n: yes this is loosely based on the 5sos song I remembered it existed recently and haven't stopped listening to it 

Fermin's POV

It's always fun getting to visit a new country especially to play football but I've never known somewhere to be as rainy as England or London specifically. It's done nothing but rain since we landed but still the boys insisted we go out and explore as we have some free time they quickly regretted it when our umbrellas all turned inside out in the wind so we all decided to just go and get some lunch and watch the busy London streets from somewhere dry. The place we ended up in because it was close was actually rather nice and it was quiet too with just a few other table none of which seemed to pay any mind to us which hopefully means they don't know who we are. 

Once we were sat down one of the other groups caught my eye it was a group of girls who looked around my age. It wasn't just the girls that caught my eye it was one of them in particular I don't know what it was about her but I couldn't take my eyes off her she isn't my usual type but she is just so strikingly beautiful it's hard not to admire her. As soon as I noticed her I didn't stop staring which I know is creepy but the way she smiled and laughed with her friends was just so mesmerising. Out of all places to meet such a beautiful girl a tiny restaurant in the middle of London is not what I expected but I'm not going to complain. 

"Hey are you still with us bro" gavi elbowed me 

"Yeah yeah" I replied not looking at him 

"What have we been talking about for the last 10 minutes then?" Pedri asked 

"The game" I guessed 

"You know it's creepy just to stare at that girl right" Joao said 

"I'm not staring" I lied finally taking my eyes off her 

"You so are" Pedri said 

"Has fermin found love at first sight" Gavi teased 

"Stop it guys she'll hear you" I whisper yelled at them 

"Surely you want her to hear us there's no point just staring at her if you don't say something you'll never see her again" Joao said 

His logic was sound I can't lie. There is no point admiring her from afar if I don't say anything I'll never see her again and if she rejects me well then I don't have to face her again which would hopefully make it easier to take. That makes it sound simple but it's not that straightforward I'm not the best at talking to girls I never know what to say like do I just introduce myself do I compliment them it's all so complicated and I never seen to get it right. Of course in this situation there is the added problem of the language barrier I speak English pretty well but I don't know if I know enough to have a conversation with her and sometimes accents complicate things. It's a lot to think about but there isn't really time to think about it as she could leave at any time and I need to have something to say. 

For the rest of lunch all the boys kept trying to give me pointers on what to say some of which were serious but most were jokes. They also tried to find her Instagram for me but they were entirely unsuccessful which didn't surprise me as we don't even know her name but they tried nonetheless. While they talked among themselves I noticed that she was finally getting up to leave and as if it was meant to be her friends all left her so I had no reason not to take my chance. I was going to get up and talk to her but the boys pushed me out of my seat before I could get up and told me not to come back until I'd spoken to her. I approached her as she turned to leave her table and we locked eyes for the first time and I nearly froze but I didn't I kept walking towards her. 

"Hi I'm Fermin sorry if this is too forward but I thought you were really pretty and wanted to introduce myself" I said 

"Thank you Fermin I'm y/n" she said 

"I know this seems a lot but I'm only here for a few days so would you want to go and get coffee or something as long as you're free" I said 

"That sounds great I have the rest of today off as long as you are available" she said 

"Great you might have to guide me on where to go if you couldn't tell I'm not from here" I joked 

"I have the perfect place to go" she said 

With that we left together and I texted the boys telling them I'll pay them back for my part of the bill later. As we walked wherever she wanted to go we got to know each other a bit more she told me that she was in fact my age and that she's still in university studying psychology but she's on a break which is why she's out with friends during the day. I told her a bit more about myself but I didn't tell her exactly why I was here because I want to get to know her more before I tell her that I play football because that can really change how girls act around me. I'd love to believe that she wouldn't be like that but you never know there's girls I've met before that I thought wouldn't be so obsessed with my career but they were although I do think y/n is different. 

She took us down a few backstreets before we reached this cafe which only had two other people in it which was perfect. As soon as we entered the lady running the place came over to ask y/n how her studying had been going and she offered us our drinks on the house but y/n insisted on paying. If I didn't already like her that interaction only confirmed my thought that she was just truly a lovely person and that's something I find really attractive in a girl. We sat in a quiet corner of the cafe and sipped our drinks but mostly we just didn't stop talking. I've never had such a connection with someone before, it sounds like such a cliche but we really got on like a house on fire instantly. She's really just perfect I've never found someone I love everything about from the moment I met them but that's how I feel with y/n, every good quality you would want she has she's kind, patient and not to mention absolutely beautiful. 

After finishing our drinks and getting to know each other we both had to leave I'm supposed to  eat with the team for dinner and she had to do some studying but luckily her place is on the way to my hotel so we got to walk together. However the walk wasn't very long and before I knew it we had to say goodbye. I didn't want this to be the last time we see each other so I just kind of blurred out that I'm here to play football and invited her to the game. Naturally she had a few questions but I answered them and she agreed to come to the game tomorrow which is how I got her number so I could text her all the details she would need. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

With my week off from uni I expected to see some friends and just unwind a bit but instead I ended up going out with a guy and not just any guy a Barcelona player who is playing a match in the champions league today and invited me to go. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement, I've never been to a football match before let alone been invited by a player so I have no idea what to expect. All I do know is that I'm really excited to see Fermin again he's such a nice guy and incredibly attractive plus we connected really well so it would've been a shame if we only saw each other once before he had to go back to Barcelona. 

Last night I did so much googling to learn as much about football and Fermin's team as possible I don't know how much I retained but I tried my best. Something I definitely did remember was that this was an important match for the team so they will really want to win and I really hope they do because I'd love to see Fermin happy. I also realised that football was a lot more popular than I thought as Barcelona had over 120 million followers on Instagram and Fermin had over 2 million. Knowing how popular Fermin and the team were did make me anxious because I have less than 50 followers and a private account which I'm fine with because I don't like the attention but I think Fermin is worth the possible complete change in my life. 

Time went by so quickly today before I knew it I was supposed to be getting ready to leave which meant deciding what to wear. The obvious choice would be a Barcelona shirt but I don't own one so I can't do that instead I just put on some blue jeans and a red top so I was close enough to wearing the Barcelona colours. I did some simple makeup and did my hair but that was all I had time for as I had to get to the stadium and find my seat before the start of the match. 

Getting to the stadium actually wasn't too bad but I got so lost trying to find my seat as Fermin didn't get me just any ticket he got me a vip ticket which meant I had a really good seat but it was hard to find the right entrance. Once I found my seat I was offered drinks and all sorts of other things but I just wanted to sit there as I was feeling really nervous all of a sudden. Everyone else in the vip section was very clearly either important people or wives/girlfriends of the players which made me feel a little out of place. Everyone had designer clothes on their hair done all nicely and perfect makeup and there I was in clothes I've owned for years with barely anything done to my appearance. Most of them were also speaking Spanish which I have a basic understanding of but I couldn't make out a word they were saying so I just kept to myself. 

The match was very intense which I think was made worse for me because I didn't really know what was going on but it ended up in a Barcelona win which really made me happy. All of the players celebrated in front of the fans before finally leaving the pitch which was my cue to find my way down to the locker room as Fermin told me to meet him down there after the game. I saw some of the other girls from my section of seats heading a certain way so I just followed them and luckily they were going the right way and I found where I needed to be. I text Fermin to tell him I was there whenever he was ready but seconds after I sent the text he was coming out the door with the biggest smile on his face which made me smile even more. He ran straight over to me and gave me a hug clearly still high on adrenaline but it loved it. As he pulled away he gave me a kiss on the cheek which made me blush so hard I probably looked like a clown. 

"Congrats you guys were so good out there" I said 

"Thank you did you enjoy the game?" He asked 

"Yeah it was a bit confusing but the atmosphere was amazing" I answered honestly 

"That just means I'll have to see you again and explain the rules" he smirked 

"I might need more than one lesson the offside rule seems a bit confusing" I joked 

"I wish I could spend more time with you but we leave tomorrow morning" he said 

"But if it's ok with you I'd love to walk you home so we can spend more time together" he added 

"I'd really like that" I said 

He had to go back to the team for a bit but he gave me a water bottle and an apple incase I was hungry which made me laugh but I appreciated him caring so much about me. He wasn't gone that long but when he came back a few of his teammates followed him so he introduced me to them quickly as they wanted to meet me. They were all so sweet that it actually made me even more sad that they were all leaving and this little fling or whatever it is I have with Fermin will be over. We are lucky to have a bit more time together even if it is just the walk back to my place I will take all the time I can get.��

Fermin took my hand and we walked back to my place together very slowly so we could have more time together. As we walked it became darker and colder outside until it started to rain which is very typically England it always rains at the worst times. I did bring an umbrella but that lasted less than a minute in the wind so we were getting soaked but I didn't care at all I'd stand out here forever if I was with Fermin. He seemed to feel the same as neither of us walked any quicker we just accepted the fact that we were going to get wet and it was worth it. Eventually we made to right outside my apartment building and it was time for us to say our final goodbyes and I can't lie I felt tears in my eyes. It feels somewhat stupid to be so attached to someone I just met but we just had an instant connection and I don't want to let it go just yet. 

"I can't believe how much I don't want to leave you right now" Fermin said 

"I really don't want you to leave either" I said 

"I know we are both busy but promise me that we will try and keep in contact and if it doesn't work then it doesn't work but I can't let you go like this" Fermin said 

"I promise I'm not going to give up on this" I said 

"Can I kiss you?" he asked 

All I did was nod which was enough for Fermin as he leant in and pressed his lips to mine. We were both freezing from the rain but I felt so much warmer when his lips met mine which told me that our connection as new as it is is very real. I've never felt like this when kissing anyone before let alone a first kiss which I think is the universes way of telling me that I've met someone special and to not give up on this without a fight. We kissed for a bit longer before we both pulled away and just stared at each other with our foreheads connected until we couldn't just stand there anymore. Fermin gave me one last kiss and promised he'd text me tomorrow before leaving to head back to his hotel leaving me to go inside and come to terms with all of the millions of feelings I had running through me.

~~~~~~~~~~

2 years later 

Just last week I submitted my dissertation and finished my degree it has been a hard few years but I'm proud of myself for doing it. The big changes in my life don't end there though as not only have I put a big part of my life behind me but I'm moving to a completely new country. Fermin and I have been together for nearly 2 years now and today is the day I finally move in with him in his place in Barcelona. The road to get here has been long but it all feels worth it Nke that I'm going to get to see him in person everyday not over the phone. 

Our relationship hasn't been normal in any way in fact our first date was over FaceTime and we started dating before we even had our first kiss as he asked me to be his girlfriend over FaceTime too. There has been lots of ups and downs and there has been times we have nearly broken up as we were so stressed with other things which affected our relationship but we made it. It feels like the hard part of our relationship is over and from now on I feel like it will be plain sailing. We have always had a special connection from the second we met but that really comes alive when we get to be together in person so getting to live together and be there for each other everyday is going to be so amazing. 

As much as I love Fermin with my whole heart deciding to move to Barcelona wasn't an easy decision. My whole life has always been in England like my friends and my family and I wasn't sure if I was ready to let go of all that and completely start my new life. Fermin was so supportive as well as I made my decision he told me if I needed to move back home for a bit longer to find myself outside of education then he would support that. Ultimately I decided that it was time for me to take the leap and discover who I am with him as I want him to always be part of my life so we decided we'd move in together which it some might seem risky but we know each other so well that neither of us thought it would be a problem. 

Preparing to move has been quite stressful as I've been shipping my things to Fermin so that I only have to bring some things with me on the plane but now I'm ready to go all I feel is excitement. Sitting on the plane sending my last text to Fermin before I land and we get to be together forever felt amazing but strange at the same time the long distance chapter of our relationship is finally coming to an end. The entirety of the flight all I thought about was all the things we can finally do now that we get to spend more time together like we can go on weekend trips if he has time off or spontaneous midweek dates and even just the things regular couples do together. 

Coming through the doors into the arrivals area Fermin was waiting there for me, he spotted me in seconds and we just ran towards each other. His arms wrapped around my waist as he engulfed me in the tightest hug I've ever experienced he held me so tight that he lifted my feet off the floor which he took to his advantage and spun me round. Once he finally put me down his lips were attached to mine almost instantly and we shared what I think was the best kiss we've ever had. 

"I'm so glad you're finally here and our lives together can finally begin" he said 

"I can't wait to see what the future holds" I said  

#fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez imagine #fermin x reader #football imagine

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You explain everything to the guys and have some bad news in the end

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism, mention of experiments, lady with an axe, needles, missing people, some creepy stuff I WARNED YOU -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. Also I wrote this with like two hours of sleep so yk

-> Masterlist

-> Part five ; Part seven

-> The Wendigo Project (06)

You were in Mrs White’s office, lounging on her luxurious leather couch. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the room as you unwrapped a candy she had given you just before she started shouting angrily into the phone. You had witnessed many of her outbursts before, mainly towards her employees, so her current anger didn’t surprise you. She usually kept you out of earshot during these episodes, but for some reason she didn’t ask you to leave that time.

You didn’t mind, as her couch was more comfortable than your bed and her office widow provided a view of the woods outside. So you were simply chilling as she was red in anger.

“You’re an idiot, Mike! That was the only - no, don’t blame this on me! Do you know how hard it is to find one? That was our only subject and you killed it!” She kept shouting, piquing your curiosity this time.

“I don’t care! How can we continue working if we’re empty handed?! I don’t care if we have one last sample, our main resource of blood is dead! ” Her yelling continued, and you sat up straight as she started to smash things around. “What?! Don’t you even dare suggesting it.”

Then, she glanced at you. “No.” She said, after debating something in silence. “She’s needed alive - you know why.”

You frowned. Was she talking about you?

“I don’t care. She’s- Michael.” That sounded like a warning. “Everything’s going to shit here, if she dies we lose our only- how can you be sure? I know what she is, don’t forget I was the one who gave b- yes, but I don’t think she can take it. If she turns, I’ll lose my only tie to him and I can’t risk it.”

She sighed, sinking down on her chair behind her desk - her eyes flickered to you once again. “If she dies, I’ll destroy everything you hold dear, which is yourself.” She said, letting out a defeated sigh. She agreed.

She hung up the phone, throwing the object on the desk in front of her. You two stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, as you knew better than to talk to her whenever she was having these moments. But she spoke first.

“Kid?” She glanced over at you.

“Yeah?”

“You have a mission. The most important one, and I need you to survive. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do anything.”

You vaguely remember exactly what happened next, but you knew it messed you up completely.

Mrs White had a worried expression on as her scientists secured you to the bed, with countless needles piercing your skin. The pain was deadly, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. But you could take it, you had to. It was for the greater good.

You fell finally unconscious after a while, still unsure to this day if it was due to the horrible pain or if they gave you something. When you finally awoke, your senses were intensified - every sound, every smell, every sensation was amplified making you feel lost and disorientated.

Not to talk about the headache, but it was all worth it. As soon as you saw Mrs White’s proud smile, you decided then you’d do it all over again. Praises came from left and right, you were being treated better than before and you finally, finally made it to a higher level. You were finally allowed out of the facility, actively fighting on the field.

You had new super strength and stamina, able to lift weights that you couldn’t before. The only human who survived to the “Wendigo Project” without turning into a monster but still having the creature’s abilities. Super strength was one of those, but the one Mrs White was the most proud about was the fact that using your blood, they were able to create more things like you.

None of them turned out like you though, each one of those subjects turned into a tall, pale monster with sharp teeth with an unnatural hunger for human meat.

However, that stopped being a problem the second they found out you were able to control them. In that second, Hydra had their most lethal weapon. Wendigos can’t die easily, and they can live for hundreds of years with minimal care. They’re strong, incredible hunters during the day and unmatchable during the night - that’s what Hydra wanted and they got it because of you.

≈

Dean, Sam and Bucky were looking at you in silence as you finished explaining yourself, and you’d lie if you said you weren’t scared of their judgment. You had purposely avoided this topic because you knew that people would look at you differently, and how could they not?

Not only you had the blood of a pureblood monster, but you helped them creating new ones. You were the reason why so many people were torn away from their lives - it was all because of you. Even the monster downstairs, whether it was Cassandra or not, was one because of you.

“So… the reason why they won’t attack you is because you have their blood?” Sam blinked a few times, and you could see he was looking at you differently now, as if you were a time bomb.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“Why can you control them?” Sam frowned. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” You said, sighing heavily. Unfortunately a lot of questions were still unanswered. “I just… do. It comes naturally.”

“You look good for being one.” Dean said, gaining a glare from the other two men. “What? It’s true. I’m not blind.”

“This makes no fucking sense.” Bucky spoke after a moment. “Why you? Why didn’t you turn into… that.”

You shrugged. “If I knew I would have told you.” You said. “But unfortunately no one ever told me in the first place. I’m as clueless as you are.”

“But the Wendigo only eat human meat. Did you… eat it? Ever? Do you feel the need to?” Sam asked, cautiously scanning your face almost as if he was trying to find some similarities to the monster downstairs. His usual softness was replaced by a look of mistrust, and you saw his hand on the holster on his belt, probably holding a knife.

Useless anyway, and he knew it.

“No, to both of your questions. God, just the thought of it makes me sick.” You scoffed.

Bucky followed your gaze, noticing his hand placement too. “If you make any sudden movement I’ll snap your neck.” His voice was incredibly low - and hot. He was hot, and if it wasn’t for his hatred towards you, you would have shot your shot already. Anyways.

“Let’s all just take a step back, alright?” Dean interjected, getting slightly between Sam and Bucky. “Sam.” He warned. “The knife.”

Sam’s gaze darted between you and Dean, uncertain, as he eventually raised his hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s just… we’re used to kill things like you.”

“Speaking of which…” You begun, curious to finally find out who you have been dealing with for the last few days. “Who are you two?”

“We’re hunters.” Dean replied matter-of-factly, with a proud little grin on his face.

Bucky’s brows knitted together in confusion, mirroring your own. “Why would Fury send two hunters to help us? We’re not dealing with animals here.” Bucky said.

“We don’t kill animals.” Sam clarified. “We hunt supernatural creatures. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons… anything you can think of.”

You raised a brow, and as you were about to question him further you were interrupted by Bucky’s laugh. The three of you looked at him taken aback - not once you had heard that sound coming from him in the year you had worked together.

“What? You don’t believe us?” Dean asked, a hint of offense in his voice.

Bucky’s laugh died down, replaced by a wry smile. “We play chess with an alien tree, of course I believe you.” He remarked dryly - that wasn’t really a happy laugh, now that you heard his next words. “Oh my god. All I’ve ever wanted was come back home from the war and live my life, now I’m stuck in an attic with two ghostbusters and a cannibal when downstairs a lady with an axe is dismembering someone. Life is fucking crazy.”

“Hey, I’m not a cannibal!” You protested with a scowl. “How do you know the ghostbusters?”

“Parker.” Bucky scoffed.

“Really? I thought you didn’t like the kid.”

“I don’t like anyone.”

“Fair.”

You all fell silent as soon as you started to hear someone, Mrs fucking Miller, dragging a heavy weight across the floor downstairs.

“We need to leave.” You said. “We need to get home and try to make some light out of all of this.”

* * * *

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Dean looked at you from the mirror of his car, making you roll your eyes.

“If you ask that one more time I’ll bite your neck.” You playfully remarked, sinking down on your seat.

Escaping the house without a scratch had been a stroke of luck, especially considering Bucky’s suggestion to jump out of the first window you came across - a plan to which surprisingly everyone agreed to. You and Bucky were fine, obviously, but for a second you got worried about the brothers’s sanity since they didn’t have super abilities like you and the Soldier.

As you drove away in Dean’s beloved car, leaving that house behind you for what you hoped was the last time, exhaustion fell over you once again. After all, it had been a long day for all of you.

Not even Dean’s driving was as reckless as usual, which only confirmed your words since the man drove thinking he had six lives. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He joked, catching your eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Cut it.” Bucky muttered, his irritation quite evident.

“Jealous?” Dean teased, only to gain a deadly glare from Bucky. “Don’t worry man, I have my eyes on someone else.”

“Who gives a fuck. Just shut it.” Bucky grumbled, getting more comfortable in his seat and closing his eyes. At the view, you were embarrassed to admit that you almost couldn’t look away - he looked angelic, at peace, and for some reason that made your heart flutter.

You needed to have a fucking grip on yourself and remember who he was. For God’s sake.

“You okay, Sam?” You then asked, noticing how his leg was bouncing up and down. He sat in the passenger’s seat, lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside of the window. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was still processing what you had confessed earlier, considering his job was to literally hunt your kind and other things.

“I can’t stop thinking about this situation.” Sam sighed, concerned. “There are a hundred things I don’t understand. Like… how can a woman like that keep a Wendigo locked in a room as if it was just a wild animal? She’s not mentally stable enough to do that, and that thing should have ripped her apart in seconds - instead, Mrs Miller feeds that. I saw - I saw her dismembering someone when me and Dean broke into her house, how can she do that? She may be crazy, but not strong enough to kill someone and drag the body around like it weighs nothing. Maybe she has someone doing the dirty work for her.”

“She may. Also, why didn’t it eat her? Not only did the thing not rip her apart, but it keeps not doing that.” Bucky inquired. “Did she domesticated it or something?”

“I was wondering that, too.” Dean sighed, stopping the car momentarily at a red light. “The Wendigo works alone, and they prefer alive preys. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll figure something out tomorrow, with a clear head.” You said. “But I do have a question for you two: how did Fury find you? I didn’t know he knew about all of this.”

“Oh, he knows everything about it.” Dean confessed, leaving you both you and Bucky perplexed. “What? You’re telling me you find that weird? Or did you really think Fury and his team only dealt with aliens and Hydra?” He chuckled. “The man has connections everywhere, even with hunters. The Avengers think about global threats, we think about local threats.”

“But… how? He never told me that.” You looked at Bucky. “Did you know?”

“No.” He answered, and he seemed honest.

“How do you think Fury found you when you were with Hydra?” Sam asked you.

“I figured he… found some leads that led to my facility?” You answered, uncertain.

“It wasn’t Fury who found you.” Dean corrected you. “It was my father. He was following the steps of a Wendigo, a female, when he found out the place you were being kept at. He proceeded to tell Fury… and here you are.”

“I feel my brain burning.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to process everything - but your mind just didn’t want to work anymore. “I’ll have a talk with Fury as soon as I can, when this is over. For now, I just want to find out where Adam Barlow lives so maybe he can tell us something more about Cassandra. This situation is getting weirder by the second.”

But you should have known better than to harbor hopes.

“What the f- hello!” Dean smiled, rolling down the window as a police officer signaled for him to slow down.

“Hello.” The police officer replied, holding up a picture of a man you had never seen before - not that you could see much from the backseat. “Have you seen this man?”

“No, sir.” Dean shook his head. “Why?”

“This is Adam Barlow and he’s been reported missing. If you have any news, please let us know.”

…

That had to be a joke.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dean winchester #james bucky barnes #sam winchester #supernatural #bucky bar ws #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #marvel #winter soldier #mcu #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x original female character

[wabatle]

Hello!

If you take requests, can I request WxS (separately) with reader who's burnout because there are many assignments from school that reader need to finish but the deadline is short. reader feel tired and overwhelmed because of it and can't take it anymore so they ended up breaking down

Sorry for my bad english :)

don't worry about your english, it's great!

☆~W×S with a burnt out s/o

wabatle nonsense:

guess who got lazy with their pictures again

also i made it seem more like reader is depressed than burnt out but oh well

warnings: none~

taglist: @stellas-starry-stove13, Rui is waiting! @akitosheart, Rui and Tsukasa are waiting!

☆~Tsukasa Tenma

He is so worried

Constantly interrogating you on what you're doing that's making you so stressed

Then he realized that whatever was causing such pain has exhausted you to the point where you don't feel like doing anything

You had started skipping rehearsals, and had also expressed that you just wanted to go home, and Tsukasa was beating himself up about not telling you to take a break earlier

He constantly will go to your house to make sure you're taking care of yourself

I can't even describe what a worrywart he is I'm sorry

But he will be taking care of you until you feel better

☆~Emu Otori

She doesn't exactly understand.

Of course, she's worried. The person she loves most is exhausted from life, but she doesn't understand why

She'll go to check in on you all the time

Once you started skipping rehearsals she started freaking out

She told Nene all about it, and Nene told her that you were probably just burnt out

So, Emu decided to try baking for you, buying you sweets, bringing you games to play, anything that would cheer you up

She would be such a sweetheart, and never give up until you're happy again.

☆~Nene Kusanagi

Nene understands on another level. She's been burnt out before, specifically with social interactions

So, she knows what you need, and that's space.

She'll occasionally (often) text you to ask how you're doing

And she'll also describe to Rui or Emu how worried she feels and ask if it's right to check on you face to face when she knows you need space

Once they tell her to go, she does, and she brings her game, positions herself to cuddle with you, and starts playing

She knows you need space. She just wants to be there while you're in your space.

☆~Rui Kamishiro

Like Nene, Rui also understands what you’re going through because he’s been burnt out before too

Unlike Nene though, he thinks that the best way to “solve” being burnt out is to have someone with you to help you through it

So, that’s what he does

He’ll hang out with you and bring you sweets, allowing you to be as clingy as you need to be to feel better

Rui knows that what you’re going through is hard. That’s why he’ll be there for you all the way until you’re back to normal.

#pjsk #pjsk x reader #wonderlands x showtime #tsukasa tenma #tsukasa tenma x reader #emu otori #emu otori x reader #nene kusanagi #nene kusanagi x reader #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #wabatle writes

[faitsansorganes]

next time someone immediately switches to English with me because I can't fucking hear what they're saying or I'm just taking a while to process what they said because my auts are tismed I'm just fucking killing myself in front of them (don't open the tags unless you want to see me complaining too much)

#well like i KNOW they're trying to be helpful but i really dislike it #the only time i prefer english is when it comes to like bank housing legal shit etc #where if i fuck up with my polish it can have Consqeuences but i know the interlocutor knows english on a professional level #aside from that i'm like -_- #te słowa znam po prostu mam raczej powolny mózg!!! #no but it irritated me when one professor was asking about my “situation” before class once #idk even why? bc like it's pretty obvious i'm a foreigner #given my name accent and grammatical errors #but she asked if i was like. an exchange student or a regular student #and the question was weird to me so i was like huh? #and so she asked again in english and like #did i ask to use english #why would you assume that i need to do that when i turned in a research essay that you yourself said is good #and required me to read a bunch of academic articles in polish #like CLEARLY i understand the language on a communicative level #whatever i just responded in polish and she didn't use english again but #STOP!!! #(admittedly kind of funny because the question was still baffling to me in english so she asked if i knew english #because while i'm american my accent DOESN'T make it immediately obvious) #oh yeah i had to email this one guy from the admissions committee because the whole process of submitting documents #as a foreigner is an Ordeal #and at one point he was like 'if you have any questions you can write in english too!' #which didn't really annoy me because he was only offering and only wrote that sentence in english #but like pls you are literally handling my admission to the POLISH PHILOLOGY program why would i want to use english here #anyways i do get sad bc i DO need more live conversational practice in polish #since i self-studied and got none #to the point my language competency interview for this uni were my first time actually SPEAKING polish #but like i'm painfully aware of how my speech is so i don't converse with anyone #bc i feel they'll just get annoyed with me #and so the problem doesn't much improve itself

[oreegaanoo]

Character reference sheets and two frames from the animatic! :3

#work in progress #sketches #my art #a #qsmp chayanne #missasinfonia #qsmp #have drawn this kind of sketchy bits for like... maybe three scenes so far? like most of the frames for three scenes I mean #there's at least 20 scenes with their own moving bits and stuff so that'll be fun #but this is a nice start! and I really like the song and I like looking at my sillies so it's nice to draw too :) #started going crazy a bit after like two hours of drawing so I'm stopping for now and will continue next week again. Hopefully get another- #-- scene properly sketched out then #In other news I completed a small section (like less than a quarter of a page long) of my thesis and oh the feeling of accomplishment!! #it was a daunting part because I didn't know how to write it out but I did it!! Finally!! #and also had some trouble with translating my thoughts to english so I asked my mom for help and we brainstormed it :D #she's a great help with language stuff; both bc she's like generally good at english and also she's not dyslexic like me so that helps :D

[citricclown]

most of the fandom interpreting ur favorite couple as siblings gives me the same energy as historians saying “they were good friends!”

#also please do not take this out of context im talking about the friends to lovers trope #growing up together you know #not being adopted to the same family #this is about buggy and shanks ofc #i know that in the eng sub they translated their relationship as like a brother to shanks but in the ptbr one is not that so #maybe its a mistranslation but it sounds homophobic to me /hj #to english speaking folks #do they mention them as brothers again in the anime/manga or is just this one time? #i asked my gf bc shes ahead of me but she told me theres never a mention to their relationship as that again #idk if someone will truly answer me so im gonna stop here #buggy x shanks #shuggy