#OWL HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG

[crehador]

godchild ✧ annual reread ✧ volume four

[thousandyearphantombunker]

My baby girls with hero complexes 😍🥰❤️

This is a safe place for Belos and James lovers!

We've both been called genocide apologists because we like fictional characters no matter how many times I explain that I think James committing genocide was ooc or how Belos just doesn't work as a villain for me because the 'realistic horrors of homophobia/racism'- weren't portrayed well at all! But uhh apparently that makes us genocide apologists

considering having a sane conversation surrounding these men is impossible us fans might as well just start saying our faves have done nothing wrong to piss people off

Like yes kings slay! Shoot Sleet and brand people's wrists! These men have done nothing wrong in their lives ever!

[awakefor48hours]

I don't trust people who don't like Luz

[trafficlightchild]

The Collector should personal pay for Luz’s therapay

[siriussslut]

hey so 🤭 i wanted to know your take on full moon remus?

full moon remus is so hot to me😩 i hope this is good, enjoy🫶🏻🫶🏻

warnings: semi-public sex, oral (m receiving)

masterlist

remus can’t seem to focus. he keeps on glancing at his book, rearranging his sitting position, and glancing at you. his gaze darts around the room, but lands on you most often. you know he always feels overwhelmed around the full moon, so, still reading your textbook you reach over with hand to conceal his own hand with yours, mindlessly playing with his fingers.

he stiffens a bit, but it seems to help.

when he hasn’t flipped a page in five more minutes, you look up at him. “remus, what’s wrong?”

his expression is tight, eyebrows pinched together. he shakes his head, “ah, nothing, just…” he jerks his head in a downward motion.

curious, you look down at his lap. his pants seemed to have grown two sizes smaller, a huge tent in his lap. ah, how could you forget. his sex drive was also much higher around the full. you glance around the room, just as remus had done minutes before. the library is almost empty, three second years a few tables down, and a couple of fifth years on the other end studying for their owls. you duck under the table, crawling down to your knees.

“you don’t have to-“

“wanna.” you silence him. you undo his belt with shaky hands, and push past the waistband of his briefs. his cock is hard and red, bigger than you remember. everytime you see it, you’re surprised once again by the sheer size of it. you touch a hand to his tip, collecting all the pre-cum available and slide down his shaft. you continue in an up-and-down motion until he’s twitching in your hands, leaking. you reach down to play with his balls as you slide your mouth onto his length. his tip hits the back of your throat, throbbing inside of you.

your pussy drips as you suck him off, squeezing his balls just the way he likes it. he releases nothing but quiet groans, trying to keep silent in the library.

“hey, remus!”

he freezes. you grin cheekily and continue your oral attack on his dick, quickening your pace.

“h-hey, prongs.” he has one hand tangled in your hair and it tightens, slightly pulling to the point of pain. you ignore it, speeding up even further.

“you see pads and wormy anywhere? can’t find the map so i figure they must have it.”

you squeeze him harder, swirling your tongue around his member.

“uhh… saw wormy… by- by the lake,” he finally gets out.

“thanks… you okay?” james tone shifts to concerned.

you tug on his balls, grinning around his cock.

“y-yeah. just… studying.”

“alright…” james says, voice skeptical. “anyways, i gotta go. see you later.” he walks away, leaving it just you and remus at your table.

remus climaxes the minute he’s gone, shooting hot strings of come down the walls of your throat. you swallow it all, reveling in his taste, before you detach your puffy lips and zip him back into his pants.

he pulls you back to your seat with one hand then leans towards your ear. “i can smell how wet you are.” his words only soak you further.

“you’ll help me later?” you ask, batting your lashes.

he grins, nods, then looks back down at his book, now focused.

[reverie-starlight]

it's about time I wrote something for owl head. @luvring I blame you for launching me right back into my bokuto era. not sure how I feel about my characterization of him yet, but it's a work in progress. considering it's my first time writing him, I don't think it's too horrible!!

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, he is such a baby omg. I just want to see him happy, he's so sunshiney and warm. slight, miniscule, microscopic suggestiveness in one part.

early mornings can get a bit hectic when your boyfriend spends the night.

they used to be worse, you will admit, but even if you've both established somewhat of a morning routine, actually putting the plan into motion always proves to be a difficult task.

hopefully things settle after he moves in, you think.

you take a few moments to bask in the early morning silence that follows the swift movements of shutting off of your alarm (it's far too cold out for birds to chirp outside your window, and your apartment's not too close to any busy streets) and admire the sweet man beside you. ever the deep sleeper, bokuto's snores pop you out of your bubble.

you check the time again and feel your face form an expression of pure disdain when it registers that you have less time to get ready than usual. you turn to the side.

he's facing away from you- an oddity, considering he usually has one hand on you at all times- broad back on display, expanding and deflating with every breath he takes.

it almost feels wrong to disrupt him, but you know he has to get up for practice soon anyway, so you attempt a softer wake up method.

you put out your hand and trace patterns over his skin. it's warm and soft and makes you want to cuddle up melt into him for the rest of time. knowing him, he wouldn't mind that one bit.

he barely stirs at the feeling of your fingertips, so you do get closer this time and press light kisses against his shoulder blade.

the back of his bicep.

the centre of his back.

a few along his spine.

the spot just behind his heart.

you watch as goosebumps follow your trail of kisses and smile as he shuffles and finally turns to face you.

"good morning, baby..." he yawns and gives you a sleepy, closed-eye smile.

it breaks your heart that you're going to have to cut this moment short, but it has to be done. you're already cutting it too close for comfort (last night's activities had forced you to set a later alarm). any longer in bed and you'd both be late for work.

you card a hand through his hair and match his expression. "good morning, koutarou. it's time to get up." you keep your voice low and sweet, hoping to keep him sleepy enough to just go along with whatever you say.

but it seems that fate is not on your side this morning.

he opens one eye just a crack and begins to nod before freezing and promptly burying his face into your chest. he wraps his arms around your torso, making you you groan a little. "I need to make up for not holding you while I was sleeping."

while the sentiment is sweet, you would think that him getting ready to move in with you would make up for it. but apparently not even the prospect of spending every night from now on in your arms is enough to satisfy him.

"ko, please," you huff and try to pry his arm off. you really don't want to be late for work. things have been picking up lately and you definitely don't want to be chewed out by your boss for poor time management.

but bokuto does not waver. he may be a big baby sometimes, and he may do everything in his power to make you happy, but he is also incredibly determined and annoyingly stubborn.

especially when it comes to sleep.

so he just holds you tighter, mumbling out little apologies for not keeping you warm during the night. you giggle at that, because you are nothing if not warm whenever he's around. his presence is akin to summer's sunshine- so genial and bright that you can feel his love even without the physical gestures he always insists upon.

you stroke his back and just as you're about to give in to him, a small, smug smile appears on his face.

"bokuto koutarou!" you gasp "you know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

he laughs into your chest and you can feel it reverberate throughout your body. "just stay with me a bit longer, when was the last time you took a sick day, anyway?"

his voice is littered with drowsiness and it only makes you want to give into him even more.

how is it that you've always seen yourself as the clingy one in the relationship? the thought makes you laugh a bit and he looks up at you hopefully.

but sadly, one of you needs to have some self discipline, so you cup his face in your hands and squish his cheeks together. "nice try, lover boy, but you promised me you'd get up on time."

he pouts and you try not to crack a smile at how funny it looks with a squished face. "but baby-"

"nope! you brought this on yourself, ko. besides," you do let your smile break through this time. "you're the one who insisted on setting a later alarm." you poke his nose to punctuate your sentence.

"you're the one who insisted we'd have more than enough time to get ready." poke.

"and you're the one who kept begging to go round after round despite me telling you this would happen," poke.

you squeal a bit when he suddenly gets up to hover over you, a mischievous, almost predatory look in his eyes that can only mean no good. “sorry- who was the one begging, baby?”

he digs his fingers into your side, causing you to giggle and squirm underneath him. his other arm holds him up and cages you in just enough that you're unable to roll away to safety.

the thing with bokuto is that he can be incredibly playful and child-like, yes; but like most people on earth, he also has moments that remind you he's much more dynamic than the endearing traits he most often presents.

you'd consider yourself lucky to be one of the few to see every side of him, but as you lay underneath him with a giddy feeling in your stomach from how handsome he looks while tormenting you, you only feel your self-discipline melting away.

he might be rebranding himself as an "ordinary" ace now (much to the surprise of everyone who knew him in high school), but you've been convinced for years that there's nothing ordinary about him at all. his determination, skill and unconditional love for you proved your theory every day.

fine, maybe one "sick" day wouldn't hurt.

"okay, okay!" you gasp out through your laughter. "we can stay in bed if you stop tickling me!"

his smile is positively blinding as he retracts his hand from your side and flops back on top of you. "thank you, babe. can I tell you a secret?"

you raise an eyebrow and he takes that as signal to continue. he "lowers" his voice to a whisper-yell and says "I don't actually have practice today."

you blink at him. "ko, what?"

he lets out an excited laugh. "I tricked you. I came up with this whole plan to keep you home with me today and it worked."

the unmistakable pride in his voice washes away any annoyance building up within you and opens you up to hearing him out. "explain."

"you've been working so much lately, I can see how much it's wearing you out," he rolls onto his side to face you better and cup your face with one hand. "and last night practice got cancelled super suddenly 'cause coach got sick or something. so I decided we should both have the day off since we both work super hard. also... I didn't want to be lonely," he mumbles at the end.

you snort at his honesty and shake your head in appreciation. that's why he was being so insistent? how did you manage to land someone as unabashedly sweet and caring as him? you started the day worrying about being late, and now work is the last thing on your mind. you grab your phone off the night stand and quickly leave your boss a message, letting her know you won't be coming in because of some sudden illness.

bokuto watches you closely and allows you to cuddle into him with a smile after setting the device back down. "so... does this mean my master plan worked?"

you nodded into his bare chest and let the stress you've been storing for weeks release alongside a deep sigh. "can't leave my sweet boy feeling lonely, now can I?"

you say it as a joke, but you hope he hears the appreciation in your voice... that he can feel how thankful you are for him looking out for you.

it all remains unsaid for a while longer, but you know he understands the underlying message when he kisses your forehead and prompts you to get more sleep.

BONUS:

you wake up again a couple hours later to a strange burning smell.

you're up immediately, not registering the fact that your boyfriend is not beside you anymore until you stumble into the kitchen and see him standing at the stove, stirring away.

the domestic view makes you excited for all of your mornings going forward looking like this, but you also make a mental note to buy a new set of pans before that happens.

he must feel you watching him, because he turns to greet you with a wide grin. "mornin', baby!"

"morning..." you make your way to the table and take a seat where there's already a glass of water. "are you making breakfast?" you try to keep your nerves out of your voice. he's not the worst cook in the world, and he's definitely improved since meeting you, but... he's still working on lunch recipes. he hasn't graduated to complicated breakfast foods yet.

he nods excitedly. "yup! I already had some cereal, though. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed, but since you're up we can sit at the table." bokuto turns the stove off and scrapes... whatever it is evenly onto a plate. "it's a bit burnt, but it should still be good!"

he sets it down in front of you and the burning smell only gets stronger. you can see now that he had attempted pancakes. you smile up at him thankfully, but you wonder how you're going to get the round discs down without creating an unnatural chemical reaction within your stomach.

"I know it's been a while since we've had a proper breakfast together like this, and you mentioned a while ago that you've been craving pancakes, so I thought today would be the perfect day for that."

you can almost feel your pupils dilate when he says that. your heart beats faster and you feel warm all over (again). he remembered something like that? you don't even remember saying it, which leads you to believe that he's been storing it in his mind for a while now.

you scarf down the pancakes.

they're not good by any means, but you know they were made with love and that makes them the best damn pancakes you've ever tasted. you'd rather endure a the worst stomach ache imaginable than make this man sad.

his eyes widen. "woah! you must've been really hungry, do you want me to make you more? as many as you want, just give me a number!"

you tear up a bit, from affection for him or a reaction to the pancakes, you're not sure. "no, baby, these were perfect. do you want some coffee?"

he nods his head. "I wouldn't mind one if you're offering."

you kiss his cheek and move over to the coffee machine, still overflowing with love, but the taste of the charred breakfast lingers on your tongue. as you're grabbing a mug, you casually ask "hey baby? would you ever want to take a cooking class with me?"

I lowkey hate how it turned out, but not enough to keep it in the drafts. hope you enjoyed!!

[tyrantisterror]

Your recent train of posts about you-know-who’s book series got me thinking. You once said “The Owl House works as a sort of rebuttal to Harry Potter in a lot of ways”, care to elaborate on that statement? Especially in regards to how The Owl House’s worldbuilding and themes clash with Harry Potter’s?

Oh man... I don't want my blog to be consumed by Harry Potter Hot Takes. I'd prefer to vent most of those feelings through my wizard books instead, it's more productive that way.

So, ok, short version: The Owl House is about a teenager from the mundane world discovering there's a magical world hidden away, goes there to learn magic, and in the process uncovers a plot by an abominable fascist to commit genocide. In very simplistic terms, that is more or less the same plot as Harry Potter.

But the devil's in the details, isn't it? Luz doesn't have any grand inheritance to claim, no prophecy to fulfill, nothing that makes her the most special specialest special person of all time. There's even a whole episode early on where a villain tries to lure her to her doom by claiming she's the chosen one, and the lesson is that NO ONE is "chosen" for greatness - greatness is something you make yourself, not something that's thrust upon you. She is not inherently gifted as a witch - in fact, she struggles harder because she doesn't have a a special bladder true witches are born with, and has to learn an ancient and forgotten method of spellcasting basically from scratch to cast spells at all. She is, emphatically and at times definitely deliberately, the opposite of what Harry Potter is.

So is her academic experience. There's a magic school in this setting, and (at first) it wants nothing to do with Luz because she's human, not a witch, and thus is believed to be incapable of casting spells. So Luz's primary mode of education on magic comes from a private mentor, Eda, who is also a wanted criminal and social outcast because of her disdain for the draconian rules of their society. Eda is an unconventional but magnificent mentor, one who is as willing to try new things and learn new methods as Luz herself, and who helps Luz discover ways to make possible what everyone else claims is impossible. Eventually Luz does convince the magic school to take her in, but in the process she changes how it runs, challenging a lot of its preconceived notions and forcing them to do better.

Which is vital, because the biggest problem facing the society of this magical world is narrow-minded reliance on outdated social categorization. Like HP, people are sorted into categories (covens here instead of houses), which they are then forced to stick to and never dabble in the others. It is explicitly compared to both the concept of tracking in real world education (i.e. forcing kids into a career path early and ONLY giving them education relevant to that one career) and the house system of HP:

And it's wrong. It's both presented as needlessly limiting, terrible for encouraging advancement and growth of both the students and society as a whole, and an immoral system that's only kept alive by the "Well, this is how we've always done it" inertia that keeps so many awful traditions in education alive. And I really do mean it's immoral, because it's the brain child and secretly crucial evil tool of a genocidal fascist.

I kind of cringe at writing those two words since I feel people have been WAY too quick to accuse cartoon villains from children's shows of fascism and genocide - like, Chairface Chippendale writing his name on the moon with a laser would probably kill a shitload of people in real life, but that doesn't mean he's an analogue to Hitler. But Belos, like fellow Disney villain Frollo, is clearly intended to be exactly that: a genocidal fascist. In a world full of magic-fueled absurdist black comedy beats, Emperor Belos stands out as a consistently serious threat, tonally dissonant with his surroundings in a way that makes him chillingly effective as a villain. And like real world powerful bigots, his power primarily comes from the fact that the systems of society favor his mindset over those of outsides like Luz and Eda - all the systems of oppression our heroes chafe against were either created by or worsened by him, with the express purpose of using them to kill everyone and everything in the magical world.

Luz could not be more thematically opposed to her enemy, and the story is incredibly consistent in showing how defeating Belos alone isn't enough, but that the systems that empowered him have to be disproven and dismantled. His enablers must be destroyed or humbled, the prejudices he encouraged must be torn down and fought at every turn, and innovation and progress must be embraced for the good of all. There's so much stuff you could analyze about the themes in that show regarding oppression and the othering of people who are different, and it's all so, SO much more consistent than the discussion of the same themes you'll find in Harry Potter.

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 13

“I need you, now.” - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1,451k words

Warnings: under influence of lust potion, unprotected p-in-v sex

She’d come running when she’s received Sebastian’s owl. He didn’t tell her what he needed exactly but he made the situation sound rather dire. She made her way to the Undercroft as quickly as she could.

When the gate to the Undercroft slammed shut, her eyes locked onto the fluffy brunette Slytherin slowly pacing in front of a stack of old dusty crates. His face looked flushed under all those freckles and as soon as his eyes met hers she noticed his pupils dilated like saucers.

She approached him and took his face between her hands. His own hands clasped over hers and he groaned almost unwillingly. “Y-you’re here. Great Merlin, I’m so glad you’re actually here.”

Her eyes swept over him, looking for anything else unusual about him. Upon finding nothing, her eyes met his again and he bit his cheek. “I-I need your help…please…I-I know it’s a lot but-“

She interrupted him, already intent on helping him no matter what as it was what she had always done. “Yes, of course. What’s wrong? What do you need help with? Are you sick?”

He shook his head, taking a deep breath before pulling her hands off of his cheeks, holding her hands, almost unwilling to let them go. “I-I ingested a potion. I-I didn’t know what it was. I-I lost a bet with Weasley over something stupid and…well…the loser had to ingest a mystery potion. I-I’m almost certain the potion was a lust potion and now…”

Sebastian’s eyes dropped to the floor and his hands dropped hers, unable to finish his sentence. He didn’t need to though, she understood very clearly what was happening to his body at the moment.

Her eyes scanned him from head to toe and she took in his loosened tie, his too tight pants, and his overall disheveled appearance. How long had he been struggling? “H-how long has the potion been in your system?”

He groaned with an exaggerated swallow before returning to his pacing in small circles. “Almost an hour. I-I was trying to fight it at first but at this point it…hurts…like under my skin it feels like fire and I have this urge to…well I’m sure you know…but I was wondering if you knew a way to combat it.”

She shakes her head from where she stands. “N-no I don’t know a way to combat it. I just know you should keep cool…and I-if you don’t fight it it’ll go away faster.”

He groans, clearly upset with the knowledge that this wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t fight his urges. “So you’re telling me I have to…”

She nods, awkwardly brushing her boot across the stone floor. “If you want it to feel better then yes. Come on, get comfy with some blankets and pillows. I’ll cast a cooling charm to help you for now.”

She does just that, casting a cooling charm on him before scooting some crates into a wall before plopping herself down on the opposite side of the blankets.

Sebastian looks hesitantly at the blankets he’d arranged when he realizes she has no intention of leaving. “Y-you’re going to stay here while I…”

She nods, looking briefly at her fingernails. “Yea. Can’t have you burning up down here so I’m just gonna keep casting a cooling charm occasionally. Don’t worry, not gonna perve on you, I’ll stay on this side of the boxes.”

Sebastain grunts, sitting down on the blanket, propping a pillow against the crate. He hesitantly undid his trousers, biting his lip to prevent a moan from the friction.

He sighed once his cock was exposed to the warm air of the undercroft. Slowly he took himself in his hand, a gasp bursting past his lips at how sensitive he was.

She tried not to blush hearing the sound of him spitting into his palm and the gasp of air he let out. She swallows harshly, trying to fiddle with the hem of her skirt to distract herself but he must find something quite nice as he lets out an unexpected moan, promptly hissing through his teeth after.

His cheeks are on fire, almost like the rest of his body. He’s typically not one to be shameful but the sounds he’s making are so needy and high pitched and he can’t keep them down as he fists his leaking cock, desperate for release.

His hips lift and he groans again, trying to desperately fuck his palm. His cock is swollen and angry and his stomach is already tightening with need.

The problem is he can smell a waft of her perfume when she taps his arm with another cooling spell and he can’t help but imagine burying himself inside of her. Now it’s all he can think about and it’s driving him wild.

She flushes with guilt when the hem of her skirt lifts a little too high and her fingers brush against the heated skin of her thigh. Shame reddens her face as those fingers slide up to her underwear.

She slides those fingers over the damp center as she bites her lip, shamelessly listening to the slickness of his palm and his wanton, breathy moans.

He cups his balls, moaning louder. It's taking everything within him not to beg her for her hands on him. The lust swimming in his brain has him imagining all the ways he could bend her over and fuck into her mercilessly to make the burning within him subside so much quicker.

He’s so desperate to cum but his body stays on the cusp, needing a push over the edge to finish. He chokes on a moan, fucking his fist needily. He’s falling apart at the seams faster than he can help it.

She can hear the desperation in his moans, he sounds almost pained. She’s never listened to a boy masturbate before but she can’t imagine it’s not supposed to sound so intense, so needy.

He lets out a broken moan, hips flexing as he moves the hand from his balls to fist the blanket under him. “I-I need to cum. I’m so c-close. Please. I need you…now.”

Without hesitation she’s around the corner of the crate between them watching him fist his cock furiously. He looks sweaty and disheveled and so fucking good.

The head of his cock looks red and angry as his hand pumps furiously. She bites her lip, straddling his legs and pulling her panties to the side.

Sebastian nearly sobs as he holds the base of himself to guide it’s she lowers her tight little pussy onto him. The heat is overwhelming and he fights the urge to cum immediately , desperate to make it enough to thrust into her once.

His hands fly to her hips and he shoves her down eagerly, she moans on top of him and she’s so wet he knows there’s no way it wasn’t all for him.

The thought drives him mad and he thrusts himself up into her, letting out a guttural cry. “I-I don’t think I can stop. I-I’m sorry. G-gonna cum inside you…please.”

She uses her legs on either side of him to bounce in his lap, placing her hands on the crate behind his head to steady herself. “S-shut up and just fuck me.”

He practically growls, pushing her down, not leaving her heat for a second as he pins her to the blanket and bucks his hips wildly into her cunt. Now on top, his thrusts are messy and uncontrolled but he’s pumping her full of cum while moaning so brokenly it would break her heart if she wasn’t busy losing herself in the pleasure.

She’s clinging to his shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he fucks her so hard it’s pushing her body across the blanket and he’s scooting to stay buried inside of her twitching pussy.

She can already feel she’s so full of cum but he hasn’t stopped. Like a man possessed, he’s bucking wildly into her till she’s falling apart for him and crying out from her release.

Somehow Sebastian releases again inside of her, his cum dripping down between her legs and over her ass as his hips finally slow down and come to a stop. He’s panting wildly, she can feel his heart hammering double time against her own chest.

He’s still buried within her, trying to caress her hair gently, muttering soft apologies next to her ear as he catches his breath. “S-sorry. M’so sorry…this wasn’t how I wanted t-“

She shuts him up by pulling his chin and pressing her lips to his. He kisses her back softly, only pulling back when she lets go. “It’s okay…really. Was good for me too, Seb.”

[jmagnabo92]

So I saw a post on Instagram, and it said:

‘Isn't it funny how James Potter decided to bully and harass a malnourished little boy from an abusive family just for existing, and years later, James' son became a malnourished little boy from an abusive family that bullies him just for existing’ 

And all the comments were agreeing and saying things like, ‘Karma’, ‘Glad I’m a James Potter hater’, ‘Don’t understand how he has even one fan’

And I was like… what??? Was so tempted to write a whole thing about it but decided the hate I’d get wasn’t worth it. What are your opinions about this? 

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??!!!

That's my initial reaction.

Don't these people know that the sins of the father shall not be visited upon the son?

It's not karma for Harry to suffer for James' mistakes. It's bullshit and I hope that no one that believes that has ever done anything wrong in their lives or their kids shall suffer. AND THERE"S NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT THIS BS.

Now, let's point out how else they're wrong.

First of all, I had to re-read the Prince's Tale - and mind you, I did skim it so I could've missed things, but there is NO WHERE that says he was 'malnourished' as a boy. Not a single description said anything was physically wrong with Snape like malnourishment. It talks about his mismatched clothes, and his parents arguing. There's a line about James having an 'air of well-cared for - ness that Snape lacked' but there's NOTHING that he states he was malnourished or even abused.

So that's utter BS. I won't argue about the abuse, but there was no evidence that he was malnourished.

As for the about "just for existing" - I think a lot of people forget that SWM canonically happens *after* James saves Snape's life from Werewolf Remus. The reason that it's easy to figure that out is there is a scene with Snape/Lily arguing about the MM thing and she literally mentions James saving him the other night.

The next scene is SWM.

Now, before get into that importance - I want to point out that in the scene about MM & the saving of Snape, Lily asks, "Why are you so obsessed with them?" and if it was a relentlessly unfair bullying situation there's two obvious answers:

A) he's been bullying me for years

B) I have to obsess so I can get one over on them.

He doesn't say either of those things - you know what he *does* say - he says "Potter fancies you"... and more about 'how great he thinks he is'.... isn't that rather suspicious?

You know what's also suspicious? If Snape's being relentlessly bullied than WHY DOESN"T HIS BEST FRIEND KNOW THE OBVIOUS? Maybe because it wasn't a situation of bully/victim - maybe it was a rivalry like Dumbledore suggested in the first book.

Now, back to the timeline:

So James saves his life and yet says "it's the fact that he exists" - which sounds terrible, right?

Of course it does, but here's the thing - Snape had literally as recently possibly two weeks previously (we don't know *exactly* when but sometime between Nov of 5th year and OWLs) had attempted to (at best) OUT Remus (at worst) KILL Remus - who is ONE of James' BFFs. Now - on top of that - we know that Snape has been obsessed with a theory for ages about Remus. We see this in the MM & Saving conversation - Lily says "I know your theory" with the air of someone that has heard his theories before. Given that he only found out *for sure* within a few days of that conversation that suggests that he has been going after Remus for a while.

So, here we have Snape's attempt to get Remus out or killed and James has every reason to hate him - he's a loyal guy. He believes in his friendships so much it cost his life and literally learned something that could put him behind bars *just to help his friend*. Whatever happened, however it happened, that doesn't matter to James.

What *does* matter is that Snape tried to detrimentally hurt his friend. So he has a reason, but in SWM, he literally *can't* say that. He would be outing Remus and he's not going to do that.

Which means he NEVER did anything *just because he exists* - he had a reason, he just couldn't say it.

Now, why does James have fans?

Because he's a good man. This is the man that did stupid shit when he was a teen, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, but nothing he did was ever on par with the things that Snape was doing - I've got a while post on that.

After he grows up, he joins the Order - to do good for people that he doesn't have to care about, yet does. He does so much good, he becomes a target. In that, he then goes on to give his life for wife and son. And they think this man doesn't deserve fans? What Bullshit is this??

***

ANYWAY, my longass point here is that: They're idiots, and I kind of wish that some people had more thought into the situation. James deserves better.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Two

Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex

Series Masterlist  ​​

Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.

 But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.

 In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.

 That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.

 She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.

 The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.

 In that way they are like children.

 She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.

 It was doubtful.

 Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.

 It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.

 Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.

 The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.

 She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.

 “What is it?”

 “Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.

 The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.

 The letter read:

Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.

 The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.

 “Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.

 Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.

Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.

 And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back

 Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.

 “My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.

 He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.

 “Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.

 Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.

 Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.

 Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.

 He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.

 It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.

 “...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”

 Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.

 He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He���d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.

 “Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.

 She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”

 Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?

 “I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”

 She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.

 Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.

 “Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”

 She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.

 He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”

 “A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”

 But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.

 She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.

 “Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.

 “Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”

 She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

 Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.

 Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.

 Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.

 Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.

 He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.

All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.

 It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.

 There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.

 “I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”

 Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.

 The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.

 “You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”

 Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”

 The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”

 “You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”

 Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”

 “Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,

 Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.

 “Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”

 Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”

 “Exactly” Freiya responds,

 “What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.

 Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”

 For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.

 “When are they to arrive?”

 “Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.

 For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.

 With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.

 If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.

  She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.

 She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.

 “Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.

 She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.

 “My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”

 She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”

 When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.

 “What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.

 “My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.

 His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.

 “You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.

 At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?

 “Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.

 “With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”

She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.

 Only a woman who would want it, she thought.

 “But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.

 Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.

 He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.

 “Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.

 She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.

 When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.

 “I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”

 There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.

“Well?”

 The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone

 “Look at me”

 With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw,  fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.

 “Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.

 “Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.

 If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.

 “I think you did, sweet girl”

Did I?

 He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.

 He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.

 “Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.

 “Yes, your grace” she whispered back,

 “Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”

 He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.

 “Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”

 She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.

 If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.

 “Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.

 “What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.

 “Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”

 He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.

 He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.

 “Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.

 Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.

 But it wasn’t enough.

 His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.

 He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.

 Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.

 “I want to hear you when I make you peak”

 Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.

 She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.

 Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.

 Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.

 It would hurt. It would be painful.

 And it was this that excited him the most.

 As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.

 He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.

 “Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”

 He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.

 “That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.

 Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.

 Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.

 “Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.

 Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.

 He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.

 She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.

 Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…

 …it frightened her.

 Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.

 In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.

 And she…

 …She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.

 History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.

 Forgotten. Replaceable.

 Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.

 “Leave” he orders flatly.

 She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.

 It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.

 Am I his maidservant, or his whore.

Maidservant.

 Whore.

 Whore.

 The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.

 She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,

 “Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,

 “I am just tired, please Hedi I-”

 Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.

 “Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.

 “Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.

 Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.

 “Whore”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise​ @valeskafics​​

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid​ @thedamewithabook​ @hiatuswhore​ @apollonshootafar​ @ladymarg0t​ 

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[antimatterz]

haiiii!!! so ur recent post abt how hsr characters would take it if u didnt log in for a while got me kind of thinking,,,, me personally i always log in at the most ungodly hours. 2 in the morning farming planar ornaments for jing yuan....,, i have never played hsr at a regular time. this is not a flex this is a cry for help. what do you think abt hsr characters having to rise and grind at hours that no man should be awake at ? :3 every single day ? :3

late-night game sessions

dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, jing yuan x gn!reader

summary: you have a habit of grinding and farming and just being online at the most ungodly hours of the night. how do they react?

cw: fluff, humor, self-aware au

enyo's note: okay i absolutely loved this idea. also it's such a mood? i used to log in at the strangest hours in genshin hehe. with honkai i try to keep it normal but it was still so funny to imagine their reactions ^^ i might do a part two with the girlies !

content under the cut | masterlist

dan heng

it's been a few months since you started playing honkai star rail and nothing has changed about your habit of logging in late at night – or early in the morning. yet, dan heng has a hard time getting used to it. every time you awake him at four o'clock he gazes at you, dazed and confused, before he realizes it's that time again. "y/n, this isn't healthy for you," he mumbles every time, but he still gets up and accompanies you with no further complaints. give him a few minutes to adjust and he will be the sharp warrior he is by daylight! but as soon as you're done and log out, he'll pass out too lol.

gepard landau

he's definitely the most concerned out of everyone. and the most sleepy, too. he has a hard time waking up, and as soon as his eyes are open, they gaze at you with worry. "y/n, you should be asleep, don't you know what time it is?" he asks groggily, but he gets up regardless and readies himself to go out with you. i sincerely hope you're not at full 180 trailblaze power because this guy struggles to stay awake and provide shields, but he tries so so so hard for you and it's adorable. and he manages, just barely so, as he's super sleepy. please promise him that you'll go to sleep when you log out, or else he will remain worried.

blade

he might not show it, but you habit of skipping sleep and logging in at night to farm planar ornaments kinda worries him. he himself might not need much sleep so he isn't too bothered by having to work with you late at night, but he clearly sees the darkening bags under your eyes as you lead him through the simulated universe. but again, he doesn't really show it and silently does what you ask him to do. only when you're finished farming and are about to log out for the night, he makes you look at him. "go to sleep now, okay?" he sternly demands, but his eyes are softer than usual.

sampo koski

out of everyone, he would be the least bothered. he's practically nocturnal himself so it's not much out of the ordinary for him if you log in at three in the morning and ask him to join you on another farming trip to grind for relics and ascension materials. okay, maybe he slightly realizes that the two of you should be asleep but does he care? not really. he doesn't complain, is happy to spend time with you, and does everything you ask him to without spilling as much as a yawn or complaint. if any, he enjoys your nightly adventures!

jing yuan

well, this is an interesting combination. a sleepy general and a nocturnal being who asks him to grind at night, meaning jing yuan has to skip on his precious sleep. don't get me wrong, he doesn't complain and accompanies you without hesitation, but he isn't a night owl and it shows. he's waaay more quiet and not as smooth, yawns a lot and is pretty droswy in general. he's still a skilled warrior who clears the caverns of corrosion with ease but you can tell he is a tad bit out of it. please let him rest as soon as you're out of trailblaze power lol.

[xjulixred45x]

Hi I would like a reader who is like Hunter from Owl house with the Hazbin crew if that’s ok

Awwww, i love The little guy!! Done

Hazbin Hotel crew with Hunter like- Reader

OKAY, I have two possible origins for this HH Hunter.

The first and most interesting, Reader is a Hellborn.

I imagine that maybe this reader had a life similar to Loona, that is, living quite badly in a ring with terrible conditions, until someone "saved" him.

that person could be any royal person, a deadly sin like Mammon or Satan, a Goetia like Paimon, etc. someone egocentric but who knew how to manipulate the reader from the beginning so that they saw him well, as a savior, but nothing in this life comes for free, right?

reader was trained, "hardened" so to speak, to protect important families from hell, which wasn't exactly a good thing for someone so young. Reader was definitely not only manipulated as a child, but also physically abused through this.

The reader grew up and became the perfect guard, just as his "boss" wanted him, someone who did not question, someone who followed him and who could command. even if it was at the cost of his mental health.

At some point in his reader's life he was given as a "gift" to the Morningstars, as Charlie's personal guard, thus beginning his slow process of "detoxification" from all the years of grooming.

NOW, definitely reader has already had certain flashes of "rebellion" before this and several of them he retains (because well, he is still a teenager), such as certain hobbies or tastes that he hides from his "boss" for his own good .

There is also the fact that being a hellborn, Reader is painfully aware of the treatment that many of his "kind" receive and wants to participate in certain forms of activism, but the fear of what would happen if he did is very strong. .

In general, thanks to this, he is 1- Good at keeping secrets and 2- bitter about not being able to participate in the things he wants because of his "cowardice" (fear of the consequences).

(a sinner reader was probably a victim of some kind of cult that followed him even in death, did horrible things UNDER THE INFLUENCE of the cult and is more prone to being manipulated. Even if he is interesting, I prefer the Hellborn reader).

When he arrives at the hotel he definitely shows his more hostile side at first (because well, sinners kinda give him the ick) and it would definitely be difficult to get him to interact with the staff at first, but when he does it would be... interesting...

Charlie, being the first to interact with Reader, is definitely excited by the possibility of a new resident for the hotel or even just a possible "friend", so she is surprised by Reader's attitude towards her.

It takes her a while to realize that the reader thinks Charlie only sees it as a "rehab program" and she feels a little offended by that (since she doesn't consider that she needs help when in reality she definitely needs some safe adult).

Charlie wants to hear the reader's opinions, and several of these opinions definitely leave her thinking (ahem, THE HELLBORNS, ahem). She would be happy if he even participated in some exercises, but not forced anything.

Vaggie is a little more hostile because she feels that her position as Charlie's protector is threatened, but when she realizes that he is a BOY, she calms down considerably.

Vaggie tries to be patient with Reader, but sometimes her sass gets under her skin and she snaps, it just feels WRONG to be in the same position as a child. although he eventually rationalizes that the reader definitely did not have it easy.

Vaggie and reader TOLERATE each other and do their things separately, but there is at least some respect between them.

Alastor at first finds him annoying, precisely because he is always on his or Charlie's heels. Although he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the perspective of an orphaned soldier amusing.

He definitely likes to scare the reader when he gets the chance, making sudden Jumpscares and sometimes appearing right next to them as they follow him. It's hilarious to him.

Alastor couldn't care less about the reader, it's just one more possible step in reaching Charlie.

Angel Dust at first would try to playfully flirt with him until he realizes that 1- he is a minor and 2- he is a bitter child. He doesn't mess with him much because he knows he will jump straight to violence.

Surprisingly, he tries to lower his tone when the reader is present, perhaps out of habit or for his own good, but he does it. and is quite surprised when the reader drops the "little soldier" mask even for a moment.

He definitely jokes about it A LOT, but he understands what it's like to use an act for your own good, so he doesn't bother him for long or judge him.

Husk sees through everyone, including the reader, and it honestly depresses him to see the boy at the beginning, it's like the times when he died, children fighting wars that are not theirs.

definitely the most reader friendly, just not in the conventional way, gives him free apple juice/water when no one is looking, gives him things or magazines that he thinks he might like with the excuse that "I was going to throw them all away" ways," and generally treats him like a child.

I think it would be the first (if not the only one) with which the reader feels comfortable to be normal, without facada, just a child. and it makes you understand MANY things in general.

Sir Pentious at first would be a little uncomfortable with him (because the reader probably kicked his ass for the wall thing) and he was expecting a scary soldier...only to bump into a child.

Pentious doesn't think it's so strange that he is so young (because he died in the Victorian era) but he tries to be friendly and make conversation, it doesn't go very well but at least the reader doesn't see him as a threat.

I think they could get along eventually, but it would take time. apart from the fact that Pentious's inventions definitely don't help the reader to let their guard down. but with power it is possible.

Niffty scares him, plain and simple.

She was definitely interested in the "bad boy" until she found out he was a teenager. After that, she only interacts with him to clean his clothes (he gets them dirty often).

Niffty thinks he's adorable, reader is scared.

All in all, it's a tumultuous road, but I definitely think Reader could thrive in the hotel with the right help.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[agentofagony]

The owl house has done a great job at showing the forgiveness trope better than Steven universe.

I love the message that some people do deserve forgiveness like the collector, because they actually need it in order to grow and they do want it. The collector was just a misguided kid,who in all actually did nothing wrong intill they imprisoned him. He's just a child who has no idea how to socialise with too much power in his hands.

BUT not everyone dose like Belos,who don't even care to be forgiven or for anyone besides himself. He's not a misguided innocent soul,he's a possessive asshole who's obsessed with power and who deserves pain and suffer. And I love how Luz after trying once and twice didn't bother with him in the end and just let him die.

What I'm trying to say is the final was amazing and I loved it so much.I don't think I ever liked an ending for a story this much.

Edit+ p.s : Let me make it clear I don't hate Steven universe and I like redemption arcs. I am full aware that Steven didn't forgive the dimensions in fact no one did and the fact that most people pretend that he did is just sad. I'm just saying it would have been nice if at least one character was just pure evil and didn't deserve forgiveness and got pain and suffering to deliver the message of forgiveness better. There are so many good messages the show has delivered.

Like jasper was close to the point expect the point was that you shouldn't force everyone to change their ways because some people are comfortable being just the way they are and that's okey,Like jasper and even in the end Steven freaked out once he harmed her which he shouldn't have. Luz looked belos dead in the eyes as she watched him die and didn't pretend that he didn't deserve it.

This is not to say she's better as a main character but that Steven should have also gotten the same treatment/character development. Luz and Steven are actually very similar even lmao.

[golddustjedi]

the softer side of slytherin

draco x fem!reader, fluff

prompt 36: “Who did this to you?”

requested by @lumi-cake

word count: 561

warnings: fluff lol

a/n: I don’t usually do fluff and I’ve actually never done draco fluff so please be kind lol

As you speed down the corridor, you’re holding your arm that’s throbbing with pain. Your robe is singed and burned in one spot, and the blue patch that used to represent Ravenclaw has now turned to black. You probably should have gone to Madam Pomfrey, but you didn’t feel like dealing with all the chaos that’s going on in the castle. All you want is to take a bath and try to dress your wound as best you can. You wonder if a sixth or seventh year can slip you a potion for the pain.

“Y/n!”

You don’t have to look to know that it was Draco catching up to you. You look at him as he falls into stride with you.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” He smiled.

“I don’t feel very well. I was going to lie down.” It wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“Aw, you want me to go with you?”

“You don’t have to. I know you have class and you need to study for OWLS.”

“Nonsense. I need to make sure my girl’s okay.” He smiled and wrapped his hand around your waist, but you winced and pulled away as he touched your arm. His brows furrowed. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Then why did you-“ his eyes trailed down and you tried to hide your arm but he saw it. He grabbed your hand and pulled it up where he could see it and clenched his jaw. He pulled your sleeve up and revealed a bright red burn that went down your forearm. “Who did this to you?” His voice was cold and it cut through the air.

“Draco-“

“Who did this to you, y/n?!”

“Fred and George Weasley set fireworks off in the corridor. One of them hit my arm before I could avoid it.”

“I’ll bash their heads in,” he said with a deadly tone.

“It’s fine, Draco. It really is. I just need some tonic and a potion for the pain. Really.”

“You need to go see Madam Pomfrey.”

“I don’t feel like going through all of that commotion again. Please, let’s just go to my dorm?”

He surrendered and nodded. You snuck him into Ravenclaw tower and into your dorm. Thankfully everyone was in class, so the washroom was empty as he helped you dress your wound and change clothes. The two of you went back to your dorm room and crawled into your bed. You rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around him.

“I can take care of them. All you have to do is say the word, my love.”

“It’s fine. It really is. They’re not worth your time.”

“I beg to differ. They hurt the girl I love.”

Your heart swells at the sentiment.

“I love you too.” You smile and nestle further into him. “It will probably scar.”

“We can take care of it if you don’t want it someday.” He stayed silent for a moment. “It will make you even more beautiful if you keep it.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re beautiful no matter what.”

You look up and study him. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nor do I deserve you.” His hands moved to the back of your neck and pulled you to him, placing his lips on yours.

[crimeronan]

#the owl house#epic post i love their dynamic so much#a pair of shin kickers#also i love acknowledgments that Hunter genuinely liked Luz a lot and seemed to have a lot of fun with her#even when he was trying to be her ✨️Enemy✨️#if the show wasnt fighting its like to get every episode made without getting canceled and they got to stretch the seasons out more#luz and hunter could have had such a kim and shego dynamic#battling each other from opposite allegiances. thwarting each others plans. but also like#hunter: hey did you do something different with your hair? [blasting a death ray at her]#luz: [blocks it by using an ice glyph] i did :D!#hunter: looks good man looks good [tries to brain her with the head of his staff] (via @lollytea)

YOU UNDERSTAND ME LIKE NO ONE ELSE. YES

the idea of luz and hunter having a much slower-burn enemies to frenemies to friends arc gets me EVERY TIME. i would KILL for them to have more individual interactions between hunting palismen and hollow mind.

like i can so clearly imagine a stupid episode plot wherein eda is getting something fabulously illegal from the night market & hunter starts to shut the whole thing down & eda's like quick luz!! distract him he likes you

luz: he WHAT-?

eda: NO TIME FOR THAT, GO BE A SCRAPPY HUMAN FOR ME

(we stan a negligent crime owl mom. eda has never done anything wrong in her life)

luz and hunter start scrapping with a combination of vicious wild magic and even more vicious beating-the-piss-out-of-each-other, as they do, and they're clearly both having a great time with it. the tone is very low stakes, it's a fun battle but it's nothing like the amity-hunter in eclipse lake or the lilith-eda in agony of a witch, yknow. it's a friendly duel! that might incidentally kill one or both of them

then one of the spells from hunter's staff hits luz square in the chest.

luz shouts in pain and drops like a stone.

hunter freezes immediately, flashsteps over to her to see what the damage is. he's like, "how bad is-- can you sit up??" he's transparently anxious, hovering over her like an older brother who just saw a younger kid eat shit on their bike. maybe even takes off his mask for better wound-assessing visibility??

luz is like [weakly] "yeah, i think so." sits up very slowly. winces a lot about it. hunter visibly exhales in relief

BAM

FIST OUTTA NOWHERE.

LUZ CLOCKS HIM IN THE NOSE AND HOPS UP PERFECTLY FINE

hunter, clutching his face: AUGH - HUMAN -

luz, scampering off, cheerfully shouting back at him as she goes: hahAHAHA! YOU DO LIKE MEEEEE!!! :DDD

[imtrashraccoon]

Headcanons!

Nightmare & his gang's reactions to being (affectionately) called a "bad boy".

I decided to do this rather than actually write something. @owl-bones ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Axe

"uh... that's not a good thing, right?"

Poor guy is confused. He's already hyper aware of how much he's changed from the harmless comedian to a hulking monstrosity and he's constantly questioning why anyone would want to be friends with, let alone date, him. He still thinks it's a bit of a weird thing to call him once you explain, although he's flattered that you like how tough he looks. He doesn't really get it though? He's just being himself.

Killer

"you know it, cutie~"

Congrats! You just boosted his already very high ego. He already likes to wear stereotypical bad boy clothes so he's all too pleased to wear his new title as well. He's gonna be extra obnoxious about it for a little while but if you're this close with him already, you must have the patience of a saint. Don't be too surprised if he steals a motorcycle from some poor guy and tries to convince you to go for a ride. He doesn't have a license though...nor has he ever actually driven one.

Dust

"...? i thought that was obvious..."

He's a little confused but he's got the spirit. While he doesn't care as much about his appearance as Killer, Dust still has some fashion sense. He likes caps and has at least half a dozen already. Since he's the brooding type, nothing will really change but he's secretly pleased that you like his style. He might start showing off a bit, just to see your reaction, but ultimately will still want cuddles at the end of the day.

Nightmare

He gives you an odd look before patting your head in a slightly patronizing way. "I'm a villian, dear~"

He is actually rather amused by your comment but believes it isn't very accurate. He does his fair bit of brooding but that's about where the comparisons end since he has a variety of hobbies that tend to clash with the stereotype. He also dresses rather fancy and wouldn't even consider wearing anything like that. Probably... He might humour you if you're really close with him, but you'll owe him big time.

Baggs

He laughs. "oh, darling! if you only knew everything i've done, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. ...what?"

He'll insist he knew exactly what you meant and then question what you thought he meant. Good luck getting him to elaborate on whatever his statement implied though. You're a special person and he'd really rather not risk your opinion of him changing if you did find out. He's quite good at distracting you too, even without using his powers to modify your memory...

Bonus!

Cross

"huh? ...uh, thanks?"

It took him a second to realize you were actually trying to compliment him and now he's rather flustered at the thought. Isn't he a bit too uptight for that? He's a soldier, not some punk. But, the idea that you see this other side to him is kind of nice. Be prepared for questions about it and he might try to show off for you too. Despite not being sure of himself, he somehow succeeds and looks effortlessly cool at the same time.

Error

"N-no?? I'm literally j-just being myself??"

He is very, very confused. What even is a "bad boy"? He's not even doing anything wrong and is just purging the useless worlds like he's always done. You beg to differ, which actually starts to frustrate him. His clothes are comfy and he made them himself, there's no way he'll change, even if you beg him. You might have a sulky sack of bones on your hands for a while. Good thing he's easily bribed with chocolate and binge watching the latest installments of his favourite show universe.