#brush fire aftermath

[crudlynaturephotos]

#turkey vulture #birds #cathartes aura #wildlife #tree trunks #burned tree #brush fire aftermath #sepulveda basin wildlife preserve #van nuys

[tragedybunny]

My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

[lust444men]

sorry but I feel like when Hobie is in one of those moods, he'd be the biggest dickhead in bed. You want it slower? He'll go faster. You want it faster? he'll go slower. Don't stop? He's stopped. Coming? He pulled out and ruined your orgasm.

warnings: slightly dom!Hob? x fem!reader, rough, overstim, mocking, teasing, slight dumbification?? idk. ruined orgasm. unprotected sex, use protection, don't be stupid!! oral (f rec). hes abit of a cocky bastard. fink that's it.

(all consensual, hush up!!!)

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Hobie roughly pounds into you, his hands leaving a bruising grip on your hips, his eyes connected to his dick slipping in and out of you with ease. He hears your whimpers and whines fill the air, the sound making him impossibly harder. He slows his pace, letting you catch your breath.

"Ay, c'mon, doll. We jus' started. Don' tell me you're givin' up a'ready?" He cooed gently, his hand brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "I-I'm o-oka-" Your words were cut short when he suddenly slammed back into you, hitting that sweet spot and making you splutter a whimper.

"Yeh? Then take i'." He mumbled roughly, his hand coming back down to your hip, his head now finding itself buried in your neck, placing soft kisses to harsh bites, marking you up. He leaned back up, a smirk gracing his pierced lip as he watches your fucked out expression.

"Wha's wrong, baby?" He asked with faux sympathy.

"S-slower! S'too much!" You mumbled, your hands fumbling to push at his hips. He chuckles lowly, grabbing both your hands in one of his, pushing it above your head.

"Slower, ay? Okay, baby." He whispered, kissing your forehead before smirking and picking up the pace, enjoying the way you writhe and moan beneath him.

"M'gonna come! Fuck- oh fuck. Bee, please." You begged, wriggling your wrists in his hold.

"S'okay, luv. You can come. Come f'me." He cooed, but the second he saw your body tense up and he heard your signature mewl, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ruining your orgasm. You whined, your legs shaking from the aftermath of a sad orgasm, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Why did you do that?! let me come." You complained, hating the way his face lit up and he smirked at you.

"Awh, m'sorry, luv. Le' me make i' up ta ya, yeah?" He whispered gently, kissing your temple before going down your body, hooking your legs over his shoulder, kissing his way down your thigh and towards your cunt, enjoying your little breaths and mumbled pleas. He gripped your thighs, the cold metal from his rings a sharp contrast to your skin that feels like it's on fire with every touch he gives you. Finally giving you what you wanted, he swiped his tongue through your folds, switching between soft licks and rough licks to your clit.

"Ohh god. Oh god." You whimpered, your hand tangling in his messy wicks as you tugged, pulling him closer.

"No god, baby. Me." He mumbled against your cunt, before delving back in, one hand sliding off your thigh to join in, two fingers slipping inside you with ease, moving in the same rhythm as his tongue did, immediately bringing you closer.

"Hobie! m'gonna come. m'so close." You said, your eyes meeting his that were already staring at you, a devilish glint in them. The sight alone made you crash head first into your intense orgasm, your head falling back as your hips rocked against Hobie's face. He happily lapped up every last bit of you, not even changing the pace of his fingers or tongue. You came down from your high, mewling softly, the feeling of overstimulation burning into your skin.

"Hob- too much." You said, attempting to roll your hips away from him, only to be yanked back.

"Nah, luv. You said you wan'ed to come, so you're gon' come f'me, yeah?"

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I love how I disappear for months, come back for 3 days, write smut about hobie, n dip again. at least its good smut. (I hope it is)

ps. check out my 400 celebration post >> here

#pls dont bully me #hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x reader #spider punk #astv spidersona #hobie brown fic #hobie spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales smut #astv miles #astv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #atsv hobie #astv hobie #Hobie brown loml acc #across the spiderverse #miles morales #earth 42 #idk what this is #spiderman

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What Era Is Your Beauty From?

☯︎ “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. I am not suggesting any of these descriptions are cannon to your ancestral history, these are just how my intuition perceived, and then presented your beauty’s energy.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

🂽 Pile One 🂽 (the devil, 2oC rev., ace of cups rev., 4oW, 3oC, king of swords, the tower, the world)

❖ Pile one, I feel like I’m watching the Game of Thrones out of context. Just flashes of people from around the Medieval 1400s living their day-to-day; singing, dancing, eating together, and then… not.

❖ The imagery I got when I asked what era your beauty came from, was very longing in nature. There was a lot of joy and celebration but it felt like I was watching the film through teary eyes and a heavy heart.

❖ The “movie” flashed between a thriving culture sharing tales of triumph and having happy, drunk sing-song moments together; and then those same people under a war-torn regime of a very cruel but powerful man. I sense themes of religious persecution, nationwide government-forced famine, and general desecration of the once-peaceful way of life. The population was going through collective mourning.

❖ People lamented over their unfulfillable desire to reconnect with their homeland and all of their loved ones. With the World card at the end of the spread and the Empress at the bottom of the deck, I get the clear image that your beauty is the physical embodiment of a large collective’s longing for the sanctity of their community. You invoke that feeling people get when they remember a bitter-sweet memory that hums fervor in their chest and gives them the fire they need to push forward.

❖ Your beauty comes from an era where the genuine smile and cheer of a pretty girl sparked a nation’s hope for reformation. You are the last remaining connection to long-lost celebration and the heart of a forgotten city.

How Do You Paint The Divine Image of Hope?

🂽 Pile Two 🂽 (7oC rev., 4oP rev., full moon, leo, sacral chakra)

❖ WHOOOAAaaaaa Ammberrr is the collluuhhhhh of ya enneergyyy!! WHOoaaA, shades of gaawwllddd displayyy naturraalllyyyyyy…..

❖ Just know I was HOLLERING that. This is my hippie pile. My people. Yea that’s right, I’m talking the late 1960s - early 1970s.

❖ Your beauty arose at a time when society desperately needed color (specifically seeing some of you wearing a lot of bright colors or eye-catching jewelry or hairstyles). The world was bleak and the war’s aftermath on the overall mental and emotional welfare of the general public pushed people to radical ideals and birthed a revolution centered around liberation, pleasure, and community.

❖ Your beauty is all sunshine and rainbows. Psychedelics and organic food. The best music in human history (feel free to argue with me, but know that it is going straight out the other ear, mama) and week-long outdoor festivals full of peace, love, and vulnerability with total strangers.

❖ Your beauty brushes people with the chilling winds of shameless pleasure. The taste of unadulterated personal freedom that is almost a societal taboo. Your beauty is so purely liberating.

❖ Lmao, I imagine a guitar riff going off everytime you walk into a room.

❖ You are the physical embodiment of eccentric love and vivacious rebellion.

Play That Funky Music

🂽 Pile Three 🂽 (The lovers rev., the High Priestess rev., Ace of Swords., 4oC. 7)

❖ Revolution is a running theme for all of the piles. This collective’s beauty awakens people.

❖ I’m seeing a brilliant man going mad at the lack of creative intelligence around him and pushing for societal rebirth. A complete cultural shift from the Dark Ages (pile one), to modernity. This is my Renaissance pile.

❖ You embody the mystical fusion of art, religion, architecture, and science. You are all the world’s intrinsic beauty rolled up into one figure. You are the art that attracts painters, inventors, and philosophers alike.

❖ You have the beauty of an all-around muse. You invoke the spirit of creative passion. It is like people see you and get a stroke of inspiration. Something that kicks them in the ass and tells them to go outside and create.

❖ This pile is very romantic. A classical beauty, like red roses and bottle poems. The universal innate desire to dream big.

❖ Shoutout to my Aquarians, 11th housers, and Shatabhisha natives.

The Medieval-Modern Muse

🂽 Pile Four 🂽 (king of pentacles, 2oP, 5oP rev., 9oP)

❖ OKAY PLOTWIST?? I don’t know what era this pile’s beauty is from because it’s set in the future.

❖ It’s funny how the last piles were all set in periods of revolution (putting in the WORK) and your pile, the final pile, is set in a better world full of financial stability, the end of inequality, economic fairness, and universal abundance (the fruits of the labor).

❖ Dude, I was trying to read the message at first and was just scratching my head. I was like, “When has anywhere, literally ever been this good???” Then I saw the ace of wands reversed at the bottom of the deck and saw impending change and it clicked.

❖ I also saw some star semblance, and see that your beauty is a reminder to mankind that the “impossible” is already set in motion. The hell we have created will crumble.

❖ You are a physical embodiment of society’s future triumph. You radiate wealth and fairness. My Venusians, especially Libra. You also look regal, something about you makes people want to stand taller.

❖ You got the pride card, I see that you give people the feeling of victory. You are living proof of future triumph in a better world where greed and sorrow are eradicated.

❖ You are the harbinger of the next era.

Introducing The First Titanium Man On The Moon!

#pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #arijackz #astrology observations #pick a pile #beauty #eras

[omgeto]

☆ POSITIVE — baby daddy! GOJO SATORU

synopsis: after an unplanned one-night stand with a guy you didn't particularly care for, your lives takes an unexpected turn as you face the consequences of your actions. // angst to fluff, gojo being the best guy ever.

"are you gonna keep it?" he asks, his voice wavering. he rubs his hands against his face as though hoping the gesture might erase the weight of the words he’s just uttered.

when you had sex with gojo satoru, a single night filled with desperation and loneliness, you never thought you’d end up here — perched on the edge of his bathtub with a positive pregnancy test in hand. 

“i don’t know,” you mumble, focused on the word ‘positive,’ staring back at you, “this wasn’t what i thought i’d be doing on a monday night.”

his question hangs between you like a loaded gun, ready to fire off an argument you both know is inevitable. you look up at him, your gaze clashing with his, and the air seems to vibrate with unspoken tension. he stands there, framed by the doorway, his presence a stark reminder of the role he played in this mess.

"i never thought..." you continue, trailing off as the memories of that night replay at the edges of your consciousness. it's as if you're reliving every moment, every decision that has led to this point. you want to scream — to shake him and demand an explanation for how you ended up here.

gojo’s fingers drop from his face, revealing the vulnerability that lingers in his eyes. he steps closer, and his proximity feels suffocating. "we're in this together," he says, his words a contradiction to the distance that has always defined your relationship. "but it doesn't mean we have to agree."

the pregnancy test slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor. the sound echoing, filling the silence of the bathroom. your frustration boils over, and before you can think, the words spill from your lips. "this is your fault, you know. you're the reason we're stuck in this mess."

gojo’s gaze hardens, his brows furrowing in a mix of defence and offence. "my fault?" he scoffs incredulously. "last time I checked, it takes two to fuck. don't act like you didn't have a role in this."

anger courses through your veins, each word exchanged like a blow in an escalating fight. "oh, please. spare me your righteousness. you waltzed into my life, seduced me with your pathetic charm, and now I'm left dealing with the aftermath."

"you think this is what I wanted? you think I planned any of this? don't flatter yourself." his lips curl into a bitter smile, his pride taking a hit. “you were desperate. i was bored. and now we have a baby on the way.”

the tension in the room is a palpable force, the air thick with accusation and resentment. In this moment, you're not just arguing about the pregnancy — you're clashing over all the unspoken emotions that have festered between you since that night.

you both sigh, knowing that arguing wouldn’t detract from the fact that was laying on the bathroom floor. gojo joins you on the edge of the bathtub, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm with his. your eyes meet his and he pauses before saying, “look it’s gonna get us nowhere arguing like this. but despite what’s going on between us, i'm down with whatever you decide.”

“I think… i think i wanna keep it,” you whisper, surprising both yourself and gojo. but a smile etches onto his face, he was never going to force you into a decision but if he could pick – this is the one he wanted.

"you know," he begins, his voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the hushed bathroom, "i never expected any of this. but... i won't deny that a part of me is... excited."

your eyebrows lift in surprise, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. his admission is unexpected, and it sends a surge of warmth through your chest. "excited? seriously?"

gojo's lips quirk into a playful grin, the tension from earlier completely evaporating. "yeah, seriously. I mean, think about it. this might not have been planned, but it's a chance for something new, something unexpected. i think we’ll make good parents.”

he could sense that you were still unsure, but now that you’ve revealed that some part of you wants this, he was determined to make you keep those thoughts. “like i said earlier, we’re in this together,” he says, his voice soft and resolute, “no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

“thank you.” a genuine smile graces your lips. maybe the circumstances are far from ideal, but there's something undeniably comforting in the way he's willing to stand by your side. 

gojo squeezes your hand gently, his excitement still evident in his eyes. "no need to thank me. just promise me that, whatever happens, you'll let me be a part of it." his earnestness touches you in a way you hadn't anticipated. the future is still uncertain, but in this moment, you know that he wants this.

"i promise," you reply, your voice steady and filled with a newfound determination.

"can i?" gojo asks, his eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. his gaze shifts from your eyes to your stomach, his hands poised as if awaiting permission.

you chuckle softly at his eagerness, a small smile playing on your lips. "although i'm pregnant, i think at this point what's inside of me is just a blob," you point out, trying to temper his enthusiasm with a dose of reality.

gojo's lips curl into a playful grin, undeterred by your practicality. "yeah, i know, but still…" he trails off, his hands inching closer to your abdomen.

you give him a nod of assent. his touch is surprisingly gentle as his hands settle on your stomach, warm against your skin. it's a simple gesture, but the weight of it is profound — an unspoken acknowledgment of the life growing within you.

for a moment, time seems to stand still as you both share the quiet intimacy of the moment. his eyes remain fixed on your stomach, a mixture of awe and wonder dancing in his eyes. it's as if he's trying to connect with the tiny being that's taking shape inside you.

"can you believe this?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and disbelief. "life, right here."

you look down at your stomach, marvelling at the life that's indeed taking root within you. it's a surreal feeling — one that's difficult to put into words. "yeah, it's pretty incredible."

his touch remains on your stomach, a constant grounding force amidst the rush of emotions that envelops you both."it might be a blob now," he says, his voice soft yet earnest, "but it's our blob."

a laugh bubbles up from within you, a mixture of amusement and affection. "our blob, huh?"

he nods, his expression earnest as he meets your gaze. "yeah, our blob. and who knows? maybe someday, we'll look back on this moment and remember how it all started."the tenderness in his words is palpable, and a warmth blossoms in your chest. despite the uncertainties that lie ahead, there's a shared optimism between you.

as gojo's hands remain on your stomach, you lean in slightly, your head finding the crook of his shoulder. his embrace is reassuring, his touch a steady reminder that, no matter what comes next, you won't be facing it alone.

AN: SO GUYS WHAT DO YOU THINK? LMK UR THOUGHTS. im thinking of making this like a little au, where I just do a series drabbles/one shots of life with your bd!gojo. so if you have any thoughts, ideas, requests send me them. ALSO DONT USE MY DIVIDERS PLS AND THANKS <3 also thanks @kazushawty for the beta read love ya.

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

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[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT (literally pure FILTH), Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, DubCon(?), Fingering, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, Corruption Kink, Subspace, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Sadism, Semi Public Sex, PIV, Choking, Gagging.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As the class finally drew to a close, the air filtered with an unspoken tension that shadowed over the room like a heavy fog--enveloping you and Mattheo in a world of charged silences and lingering desires. The classroom, once filled with the droning voice of Professor Snape, now echoed with the shuffling of papers and the distant sounds of students in the hallway.

Your hands moved almost mechanically, still trembling with the aftermath of your release as you briskly packed your bag--but each accidental brush against Mattheo sent a jolt of electricity through your skin, igniting a fire within you that refused to be tamed.

When you glanced over, his eyes locked onto yours, their depths a tumultuous storm of lingering, intoxicating lust that sent a thrill down your spine. The way he had treated you during this class felt like mere restraint, a mere fraction of what lay beneath the surface. Anticipating the upcoming encounter in the bathroom, you couldn't fathom the depths of desire he was capable of unleashing, and you'd honestly never been more fucking excited in your life.

Abruptly, the hypnotic trance Mattheo had ensnared you in shattered, as a familiar voice called out your name. Looking up, you found none other than Tom Riddle standing in front of your desk--his eyes, a mirror image of Mattheo's stormy gaze, flicked between you and his brother, a subtle tension creasing his brow.

"I heard what happened with Berkshire," his voice was gentle, yet laden with concern. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

Your cheeks burned, nerves spreading through you as you could practically feel the frenetic energy coming from Mattheo multiplying by the second. Though you couldn't see his face, you could vividly imagine the clenching of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, and the way his fingers must be tightening into fists, gripping his bag with a white-knuckled intensity. Ignoring the persistent heat between your thighs, you forced yourself to straighten up, your posture a facade of composure.

"Thank you," you said, your voice laced with genuine thankfulness, your eyes meeting Tom's with a blend of appreciation and depth. "I appreciate your concern...luckily Mattheo was there to help."

The simplicity of your words belied the complexity of the emotions swirling within you--a mix of gratitude, desire, and a strange kind of loyalty that bound you to Mattheo in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. Before Tom could get the chance to reply, Mattheo's arrogant sneer broke through the tension, his voice dripping with condescension as he mocked his brother.

"Quite the knight in shining armor, isn't he?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain as he turned his gaze from you, back to his brother. "Inviting you to the party, only to disappear when things got tough...guess it was only a matter of time before you showed your true colours."

Tom shifted uncomfortably under Mattheo's piercing gaze, a mixture of shame and resentment flickering in his eyes. The tension in the room grew taut, a silent battle of wills unfolding before you, with you being caught directly in the middle of it. Tom cleared his throat, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before he composed himself, a veneer of calm settling over him.

"Well, you know how it is," he said, his voice steady but lacking conviction as he stared at his brother. "Parties can be rather...unpredictable."

His words hung in the air, an attempt to diffuse the tension, but the strain in his voice revealed the truth behind his carefully crafted facade. In an attempt to escape Mattheo's merciless gaze, he turned back to you, attempting a weak smile, though it failed to reach his eyes.

"I do apologize again," he said, attempting to muster up as much sincerity as possible. "I'd like to make it up to you. Perhaps we should cancel our meeting tomorrow? You could probably use the rest."

You nodded, grateful for Tom's consideration despite the lingering tension in the room. "Yes, that would be appreciated," you replied meekly, mustering a small smile. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, little witch." Tom managed another weak smile in return, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and understanding. "Take care. I'll see you Thursday."

As Tom made his exit, Mattheo shot his brother one final, dark glance--his eyes filled with a silent yet unmissable warning, one you knew only you would catch. Then, without a word, he too spun around on his heel and left the room, his departure swift and purposeful, leaving a trail of palpable intensity in his wake.

With a cautious pace, you trailed after him, allowing the tide of students to swallow his figure in the chaotic shuffle. Navigating the bustling corridor, you granted him distance, a deliberate move to give him space, hoping the interim might quell the storm brewing within him. Yet, an unsettling intuition gnawed at you, suggesting it might only intensify his brooding anger.

Upon ascending to the third floor, you took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling a sharp breath to steady your racing heart. As you gently pushed open the bathroom door, there he stood--Mattheo, his posture rigid, leaning against the sink with an air of restrained aggression. His eyes, sharp as flint, bored into yours, the confined space practically crackling with the weight of unspoken tension.

"Close the door." His voice was harsh, cold, firm. "Lock it."

Mattheo's command sliced through the air, his voice an icy whip that lashed at your nerves, compelling you to obey. Swallowing hard, your pulse echoing in your ears, you eased the door shut with trembling hands, the soft click of the lock amplifying the palpable tension in the confined space.

Mattheo watched you--his eyes, sharp and unyielding, drilled into your soul as he shed his uniform jacket, the fabric sliding off his shoulders with calculated grace. It landed on the counter beside the sink, forgotten in the intensity of the moment as he then methodically began rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, revealing the sinewy strength of his forearms. Every movement he made was deliberate, a display of control that left you breathless

"Good girl," he stated, devoid of any warmth, his words falling like cold steel. "Drop your bag and come here."

A hard lump formed in your throat, forcing down a gulp that felt like swallowing shards of glass. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a relentless bass drum, each beat threatening to shatter the fragile structure of your sternum. Fingers entirely unsteady, you allowed your bag to slide off your shoulder, hitting the ground with a muffled thud, its impact barely audible over the cacophony of your racing pulse.

And then, taking deliberate, slow steps, you began to move toward him, your cautious approach mirroring the delicate balance of a predator stalking its prey--but in this moment, you weren't entirely sure who was supposed to be the prey. You, or Mattheo.

Coming to a halt in front of him, you felt the intensity of his stare searing into your skin. His eyes, dark and magnetic, darted to your lips, a hunger burning in their depths. The palpable energy surrounding him was a living, breathing entity, wrapping around you both like a tightly coiled thread, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Hands behind your back," he commanded, his gaze lingering on your lips with a predatory intensity.

Obeying him, you slowly moved your hands to your back, your lungs quivering with anticipation. His eyes flickered down to your chest, a subtle challenge in his gaze.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety growl, the praise sparking heat in your veins. "You're going to let me unbutton your shirt, aren't you?"

His words hung in the air, laced with desire and dominance, demanding your consent without uttering the words explicitly, inspiring your thighs to throb with need. The commanding tone of his voice, coupled with the unspoken request, sent shivers sprinting down your spine. Your fingers trembled behind your back as you nodded, succumbing to his silent demand.

"Can't you talk?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes smouldering with intensity. "Use your words, Raven."

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a fragile whisper. "I'm going to let you."

He blinked. "Good girl,"

Mattheo emitted a low, appreciative hum, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your uniform shirt with deliberate slowness. Each button yielded to his touch, his eyes fixated on his hands' movements, as if he feared missing a single detail. The cool bathroom air caressed your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and a shiver rippled through you as his fingertips found the last button, fully exposing your bra and chest to his hungry eyes.

His gaze traced every inch of newly exposed flesh as though he were savoring a newfound delicacy, his intensity leaving you breathless in the hushed atmosphere.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes slithering up to meet yours. "You fuck me up in the best way, you know that, Raven?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, your nails biting into your palms as if anchoring yourself in the moment. "Do I, Mattheo?"

Mattheo stood before you, a coiled spring of restrained energy--the raw power emanating from him made every muscle in his body tense, as if he were holding back a storm. This version of him, this potent mixture of control and desire, was utterly captivating. You had never witnessed him like this before, and the sheer force of his presence, unyielding yet tantalizing, had the power to send every nerve in your body into a full out frenzy, and bring you to the brink of euphoria without even a single touch.

"You make me feel fucking alive," he murmured, his eyes fixated on your lips as if they held the secrets of the universe. "You're the only drug I can't live without."

"Oh...Gods..." your breath caught in your throat, desire and desperation intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Every fiber of your being screamed for him, ached for his touch, your voice leaving your lips in barely a whisper. "Please...kiss me..."

In an instant, Mattheo's lips crashed onto yours with a furious intensity, a maelstrom of pent-up desire and longing. His hands found your hips, pulling you against him with an urgency that left you breathless. They roamed over your back, tracing every curve, before ascending to tangle in your hair, holding your head in place with a possessive, commanding grip. The kiss deepened, a wild, passionate exchange that ignited a fire within you, consuming every rational thought.

With a swift, graceful movement, he spun you around, your back meeting the cold, unforgiving surface of the sink counter. The sensation made you shudder against his body, amplifying the electrifying connection between you as he tightened his grip in your hair. His lips molded to yours, the world outside fading into oblivion as you surrendered to the storm of sensations, lost in the overwhelming fervor of his kiss.

"Fuck...you're such a good girl for me..." he pulled back, lips falling to attack your neck. "You'd do anything I fucking said, wouldn't you?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your skin, eliciting a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that shot through your senses like lightning. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his disheveled curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline, your body still trembling from the aftermath of the classroom encounter.

Words eluded you, your mind clouded with desire and need. "I...I-fuck..."

"Mm," he breathed against your skin, his tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the side of your throat. "You're still sensitive, aren't you, pretty girl..."

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat, desire pooling in the depths of your stomach. His hands found your waist, fingers gripping your skirt tightly, pulling it higher up your hips, setting your senses ablaze. "Gods..."

Mattheo groaned against your skin, his hot breath tickling your ear. With a skillful movement, he shifted one hand, his fingers teasing your heat through the damp fabric of your panties. Your back arched as pleasure washed over you, your body reacting to his touch with unbridled hunger. Pressed against the counter, you squirmed and gasped, utterly consumed by the electrifying intensity of his embrace.

"Shit...still nice and fucking wet for me...you love when I'm in control, don't you?" He snickered, breath washing warm over your ear. "That's why you act like a little fucking brat around me all the time...you want me to put you in your place...you want me to do the most unholiest shit to you imaginable..."

A low, unrestrained groan escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the confined space, surprising even yourself. Your head fell back, offering him better access, as his mouth fervently marked your skin, leaving a trail of purple possessive bruises above your collarbone. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, grasping it aggressively as if you could pull your release from his scalp, his assault on your sensitive clit becoming relentless.

"Fuck-yes, Mattheo..." you whined, squirming against his hand, voice torn with pleasure. "I-I love it..."

"Yeah, that's right..." he sneered, his arrogance breaking through his hardened facade. "You want me to use you however I want, whenever I fucking want, don't you..."

His voice turned harsh, a husky growl escaping his lips as his fingers abruptly pulled back, yanking your panties aside before returning to swirl your clit with a relentless rhythm. A cry tore from your throat, louder than you intended, and Mattheo responded with a primal growl--his free hand moving swiftly, clamping over your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure as he claimed a new expanse of skin on the other side of your neck with his teeth.

"The things you fucking do to me, Raven..." he growled against your neck, fingers dipping down to your core, slipping inside you without warning. "I wanted to bend you over that desk so fucking bad...make you cum on my cock in front of that whole fucking class..."

Your lids fluttered as his thumb grazed your clit, two fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "You're such a good little malleable slut I bet you'd have fucking let me, wouldn't you, princess?"

You attempted to nod against his hand, pathetic desperation fueling your insane compliance. It was entirely clear to you that in this moment, you were willing to say anything, do anything, just to coax release from him. Your craving was insatiable, a hunger that consumed you entirely. You needed him, every part of him, everything he was willing to offer, and you were more than prepared to fucking beg for it.

"That's what I fucking thought..." he purred, nipping your earlobe. "You're my desperate little whore, desperate to fucking please me, aren't you?"

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he spoke, the arousal pooling between your thighs growing even more intense with each syllable. Part of you wanted to deny it, to protest and tell him that you weren't his whore, just to see how much further you could push him, but the words caught in your throat and seemingly dissipated into thin air as he pumped his fingers deeper into you, sending another tidal wave of pleasure through your body--and in response, your forced yourself to nod against his palm.

"Yeah, that's right..." his voice was a growl, his movements becoming more relentless. "Such a bratty little mouth, but when it comes down to it, you have nothing to fucking say..." you whimpered, legs trembling, threatening to give out from under you. "Just because this pussy holds power over me, doesn't mean for a damn second you can tease me like that...I will take you anywhere I want...I will fuck you so hard the people in Hogsmeade will hear your screams..."

He lowered his lips back to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as his fingers continued to work their magic. Gasping, you nodded again, completely melting at his words, the pleasure becoming too intense, too all-consuming as it threatened to overpower you entirely.

Mattheo's palm released your mouth, his fingers diving into your hair, tugging gently as he smothered your lips with his. A gasp escaped you, lost in the fervor of his kiss, your attempts to pull away to catch your breath immediately met with his unyielding force. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that bordered on ravenous, as if he could devour you whole. Just when you felt your entire being coiling, ready to unravel in the throes of climax, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You want to cum for me, princess?" He murmured, tightening his grip in your hair. "Third times a charm, isn't it, baby..."

"Yes. Please-" you squealed, voice torn. "Please!"

"Good girl--so fucking good," he growled, his voice deep and rough with desire. "Cum for me, angel."

The nickname sent a thrill of excitement and warmth rushing through you, your body shaking with pleasure as you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust of his fingers, Mattheo pushed you over the edge, sending you into the waves of orgasm for the third time today. You let out a gasp that you couldn't hold back, and he quickly covered your mouth with his own--your body shaking with pleasure as waves of ecstasy coursed through every inch of you.

Finally, after what you were certain had to have been an eternity, the waves ebbed away, leaving you feeling breathless and overly sated. Mattheo withdrew his fingers from your throbbing core, a satisfied smile playing across his lips as he met your eyes.

"There's my obedient girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before bringing his fingers up to your lips, forcing them past your teeth. "Taste yourself off of me...tell me how fucking good you taste..."

Under the heat of his praise, you were entirely unable to resist--taking his command without protests, obediently sucking on his fingers, tasting your own slick arousal off his skin. You moaned around them, holding his burning stare, the taste sending a fresh wave of need through you.

"You like that?" He purred, his tone an exasperated drawl. "You like tasting what I fucking do to you?"

You nodded, whining in response as he pushed his fingers deeper, forcing a gag before he huffed, ripping them from your mouth without warning. Before you could even think to say or do anything further, his grip on your hair tightened, pulling you forward. You gasped as he spun you around, pressing your front against the hard surface of the counter, and you shivered as you watched his hand wrap around your throat in the reflection in front of you.

"You see that little slut in the mirror?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "She belongs to me."

You groaned, feeling his hand leave your hair before sliding down your back to cup your ass, flipping up your skirt as he pressed his throbbing erection against you, shoving your hips firm into the counter with enough force to make you yelp.

"I think you forgot who holds the power over your fucking goals...yet again," he groaned, tightening his hold on your throat, jerking his insistent erection against your ass. "You want that mentorship, then you're going to have to start watching that dirty little mouth around me more often princess...understand me?"

"Yes," you gasped, the feeling of his hardness pressing against you making your entire body quiver. You hissed the words out through the hold on your neck. "I fucking understand."

"Mm. Yeah you fucking do." He groaned, teeth nipping at your ear. You moaned softly in response, grinding your hips back against him. "Filthy girl. You're going to watch me fuck you."

It was then that Mattheo released your throat, his hand slithering back to hold a firm grip on your hair. With that, he used it to pull your head up and back against his chest, so that you were looking at yourself in the mirror above the sink. After a brief moment of manoeuvring, Mattheo had undone his belt and freed himself--his thick, smooth length pressing against your ass as he seethed in relief, before he reached down and slid his fingers along your slick folds, making you watch as he teased your dripping entrance.

"I wanted to throat fuck you until you begged me for mercy but I genuinely can't fucking wait anymore...I need to get inside this tight little cunt..." you mewled, watching your own desire on display as he circled around your entrance before thrusting two fingers inside you. "I've made you cum three times, Raven...this fuck is for my pleasure, not yours...understand?"

You moaned, nodding your head, feeling the orgasm rise within you as Mattheo pumped his fingers in and out of you with an experienced hand, his grip on your hair tightening.

Noting his dissatisfaction with your lack of words, you quickly gathered yourself and answered. "Yes, Mattheo...I understand..."

As your muscles clenched around his fingers, Mattheo pulled out abruptly, slapping your ass with a hard, firm smack--leaving your cheek stinging in its wake.

"Good girl," he said, positioning himself at your entrance now, teasing you with a few slow, sensual thrusts along your slick slit. "You're mine to use, to play with, to fuck. Say it."

"I'm-fuck!" Your words were cut short as he pushed inside you, splitting you wide with one long, harsh stroke--slamming deep, smacking your cervix with ease. "Shit-"

"Oh, fuck..." he hissed, his lips pressed against your ear. "You're so fucking tight, Raven...fuck, it's like you were made for my fucking cock..."

"Oh..." your sight blurred as you felt every single delicious inch of him inside you, felt him so fucking deep into your stomach that you were certain he'd split you in half if he kept going. "Mattheo-fuck-oh..."

"Say it or I'll fuck you so hard every breath you take tomorrow will remind you of my cock." You could see the pleasure etched on his face as he felt you clench around him, and you knew that he was enjoying this, enjoying every fucking second of it. "Go on, little whore...you can do it..."

"Ah-shit...I'm-" your words were cut short yet again as his hips started to piston in and out of you, hard and fast. He took you with almost ruthless precision--each thrust felt like it was calculated both for his pleasure and to test your endurance. You dug your nails into the countertop, clinging on for dear life as he moved inside of you without mercy. "Gods! Fuck-I'm yours! I'm-oh!-yours...please-"

At your plea, Mattheo huffed, jerking your head back and holding your eyes to his in the mirror as his free hand slipped up your front, finding your jaw and holding it firm in place. You could feel his hips slamming against your ass, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of losing your sanity, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the empty bathroom.

"You're okay...just breathe, Raven," he cooed, releasing his hold on your jaw and moving to your lips, shoving two thick fingers past your teeth. "You can take me...you can take it all, can't you?"

You whimpered in response, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he reached for the back of your throat, forcing a gag, his hand in your hair relenting only for a moment before sneaking down and clasping around your neck--holding you firm to his chest as he fucked deep inside your heat. Every inch of your being was focused on the raw, animalistic sensations that ricocheted through your body under his power--his cock spearing you open, splitting you wide with every single thrust.

"Yeah, you can..." he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "That tight little pussy can take this fucking cock..."

Your body trembled with pleasure as Mattheo's low, gravelly voice rumbled through you, his words only serving to increase the intensity of your sensations, emboldening you to take everything he had to offer and then some. With a growl, Mattheo's hand around your throat slowly loosened, gliding down the front of your body until he'd found your clit and began to rub tight, fevered circles against it. You cried out in pleasure, the sound muffled by his fingers still planted firmly in your mouth.

"That's it," he groaned, his lips pressed hotly against your ear as his hips continued to slam against you. "Watch yourself in the mirror, Raven...watch how this perfect little body breaks for me..."

In a desperate haze of pleasure, you met his gaze in the mirror, watching the way your body writhed under his demanding touch. The fire in your belly smoldered, stoked higher by the relentless pounding of Mattheo's cock. You groaned against his fingers, drool spilling from your lips and dribbling down your chin. You were so close, so unbelievably close to teetering over the edge for the fourth fucking time in one day, you couldn't even begin to comprehend it--your mind felt like it was about to melt into a mere puddle at your feet.

"There we go," he cooed, sensing your incoming climax, his fingers quickening their pace. "Watch yourself cum like a whore on my cock. You love this, don't you? You love being fucked like the dirty little slut you are."

His eyes roamed over you possessively, and you knew that he was taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory. His movements grew rougher, more insistent, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, and you let out a strangled moan as you finally broke for him, for the fourth fucking time. Your pussy spasmed around his cock as you came hard, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

"Shit-" Mattheo huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as your pussy milked his cock. "You squeeze me so fucking good when you cum-fuck..."

You knew that he was close now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you with all his strength, rubbing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until he pulled his hand away, both hands shifting to your hips, gripping you with enough force to bruise.

"Fuck-I'm gonna fill you up, baby..." you felt him twitching inside you, you felt his cock practically begging to cum. "Tell me you want my cum, Raven...beg me to cum inside this tight little pussy..."

"Please-" you squeaked, his thrusts turning erratic, his breath sputtering against your neck. "I want your cum, Mattheo! Please!"

"Shit...fuck-" finally, he let out a feral growl, his hands tightening around your hips as he thrust into you one last time before he stalled, his nails digging into your flesh with so much force you nearly winced.

You felt him twitching inside you, felt his cum pouring inside your heat as he came hard, his orgasm almost overwhelming you with its intensity. Gasping for breath, you leaned heavily against the counter, feeling completely spent, and Mattheo's arms slowly left your hips, slithering around your waist, holding you against his chest as he pressed a few small, sporadic kisses to the back of your neck.

After he'd finally come down from his high, and the both of your pulses had somewhat slowed, Mattheo pulled out, quickly moving to tuck himself away while you began piecing yourself back together. After a few silent moments, you felt composed enough to break it.

"Remember when you said you didn't want to take my virginity?..." you said, a sly smile playing on your lips, though you attempted to conceal it. "What a pretty little lie that was."

Mattheo stole a stoic glance at you, his emotions carefully veiled, as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to untangle the sweat-drenched strands from his forehead. With a deliberate yet seemingly effortless motion, he reached for his jacket, the fabric clinging to his form in the heat, his jaw clenched in an attempt to suppress the grin that threatened to break free.

"That wasn't a lie, Raven." He said, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath the playful banter.

Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. "Oh, is that so?"

"I didn't just want it," he confessed, his tone steady yet laced with unspoken emotions, as he meticulously donned his jacket, the fabric rustling softly. Moving closer, he closed the gap between you, his hand tenderly cupping your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. "I fucking needed it."

Your breath hitched, need screaming in your lungs with every inhale. Four orgasms in and somehow he still found a way to make your fucking thighs scream for more. "You're unbelievably insatiable, Mattheo Riddle..."

"Yeah, but so are you, princess..." he purred, leaning down closer, brushing his lips against yours. "I always knew you'd give it to me, it was just a matter of when...I'd have waited forever just to fuck you like this..."

You huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Your arrogance is insufferable."

"Am I wrong, though?" He murmured, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he brushed them teasingly against yours. "Godric knows I need to ruin that tight little cunt of yours...but he also knows I'm the only one you'd ever let do any of this to you..."

"Mm, you caught me..." you whispered, your lips meeting his in a fleeting, feather-light kiss. "Will you take that mentorship for me?"

"Perhaps I will," he replied, his fingers leaving your jaw and slipping into your hair, his touch both gentle and possessive. "But I suggest you refrain from pissing me off like that ever again...don't think it'd look too good on you if you wrote 'Mr. Riddle got mad and fucked me into the sink like the dumb little whore that I am' on the detailed log, now would it?"

You scoffed, your playful snarl hanging in the air, a testament to your exasperation, yet beneath it, a thread of amusement danced in your eyes, unable to be suppressed.

"You're truly something else," you murmured, your voice a blend of vexation and reluctant admiration. "I will figure you out, Mr. Riddle."

With that, he relinquished his grip on you, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Not before I figure you out, first."

————————————

Chapter 21->

#mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle #mattheosmut #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoriddlesmut #theo riddle #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #tomriddlesmut #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #tom riddle #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #riddle smut #draco malfoy #theodore smut #severus snape #theodore nott #marcus lopez smut #marcuslopez #benjamin wadsworth

[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #like there's no tomorrow au #daredevil and firecracker #the-slumberparty #eight types of love challenge

[barbiedragon]

Pawn Promotion

HOTD: Aemond Targaryen x twin!reader

Castling Series

Rating: M (minors DNI)

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: pregnancy, sex, dirty talk

A new life begins at Dragonstone as you bond with your dragon while carrying Aemond’s babe

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

A salubrious warmth had settled over Dragonstone. The ancestral seat had been gifted to you and Aemond in the aftermath of Rhaenyra’s triumph over Aegon. Eventually, it would be inherited by Rhaenyra’s surviving son, Aegon. The fate of young Viserys was still unknown, but you held hope that the boy might yet be found. For now, you focused on the peace settling over the kingdom and the time you spent with Aemond and Naela. Your fingers brushed over the swell beneath your dress, delighted that you were with child again. A muted roar vibrated through the air, catching your attention during a walk on the beach.

You gazed up at the rocks, shielding your eyes from the sun as the bright beams illuminated the dragon’s scales—iridescent blues and greens with shimmering golden talons and dazzling ambers blooming between her spikes. You had not seen this wild dragon before, though not unusual as Grey-Ghost rarely appeared. 

“She finds her hiding places amongst the rocks, preferring to keep her distance. The keepers have spotted her with Silverwing a few times,” Daemon announced, Naela’s small hands wrapped around his fingers as she waddled along the sand.

“Does she have a name?”

“I’ve heard the keepers call her Drimmi, a play on the Valyrian word for clever since she’s managed to illude them many times. I believe her to be one of Silvering’s hatchlings, though it is hard to be sure.”

Drimmi. Udrimmi rina (clever girl). The babe shifted in your belly as the dragon perched on the cliff's edge. 

“She is mine,” you whispered as her amethyst eyes remained locked on your form. Whisps of gray smoke flowed from her flared nostrils. Fire prickled your skin, burning deep in your blood. The bond was calling to you—Ñuhon (mine).

“I do believe your mother intends to claim herself a dragon,” Daemon informed Naela, who giggled in response as he lifted her into his arms.

“After I attend to this little one,” you smiled, fondly stroking your daughter’s rosy cheek.

“Mayhaps we’ll find an egg for you, donus rinus (sweet girl).” Daemon cooed, and Naela squealed her response.

A new era dawned as fresh clutches were found more frequently on Dragonstone, much to the delight of Daemon and the keepers. Rhaena’s hatchling, Morning, grew stronger by the day, though it would take time before she could mount. You had long lost hope of having your own, but now you knew she was simply waiting when the time was right, and you were ready. Butterflies fluttered in your tummy as you headed inside with Daemon and Naela. Aemond was seated in the Stone Drum at a large, ornate desk.

Naela’s bare feet slapped against the stones as she rushed over to him, her chubby hands tugging on the sleeve of his black tunic. A small smile curved across his lips. 

“Have you come to tell me about your day?” His tone was dulcet as he lifted the small girl into his lap. She babbled mostly nonsense at him, though a few words managed through.

You smiled at their interaction, rubbing your belly as Daemon bent to kiss your cheek. Most of his time was spent by Rhaenyra’s side, serving as her hand to ensure her claim and quickly rectify those still in her path. Your cheeks turned hot from his touch; while your heart would forever belong to Aemond, you oft felt a spark for Daemon at times. He had been the one to help set you free, to make you stand firmly on your feet, and helped you gain what you had truly wanted: Aemond as your husband. You supposed a small part of you would always belong to him.

“I must return to King’s Landing. I shall visit soon,” he said, patting Naela’s head before he departed. The roar of Caraxes filled the air a bit later.

You nuzzled Naela’s cheek before passing her off to her nursemaids before drawing Aemond’s hand into your own. “I have found my dragon, idañus (twin).”

He tilted his face, raising an eyebrow as the sunlight caught on his sapphire eye and sparkled. He needn’t worry about frightening the weak-hearted ladies at court any longer; he could be himself in Dragonstone, so he rarely wore the patch within these walls. He would be declared Commander of the City Watch in the turn of two moons, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him donning the gold cloak. It seemed he was more his Uncle’s son than his father’s.

“Have you? I will miss you riding on Vhagar with me, but I am happy. It is time you claimed your own,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your knuckles.

“I’m happy you think so. I was hoping you would assist me tomorrow in claiming her,” you grinned.

“Do you think it wise in such a state?” His hand pressed to your rounded belly.

“Many of our ancestors rode while pregnant, including our sisters. I believe I shall be quite safe with you and the keepers by my side.”

“Mmm, then you will have your dragon on the morrow.”

Later that evening, you emerged from a warm bath and applied jasmine oil to your skin, paying extra attention to your belly. You did not bother dressing but simply warmed yourself in front of the roaring fire as you enjoyed the feeling of the crackling heat against your shimmering skin. You ran an ivory comb through your damp silver tresses.

“My, this is quite the sight to be greeted by,” Aemond smirked as he entered the chambers.

You preened at his words, giving him a coy smile. “You are overdressed, husband. Allow me to remedy that.”

You stepped closer, your fingers working quickly to undo his clothing. As his chiseled, pale flesh came into view, you felt a familiar throbbing between your thighs. Your hand smoothed across his lithe body as your lips hungrily claimed his neck. An insatiable need flowed through you, and you needed him. You felt his cock stir against your thigh, and soon you were tangled in the sheets. His hot breath tickled the back of your neck as you carefully rolled onto your side, the meaty curve of your ass rocking against his stick cock. His hand delved between your thighs, slowly dragging his fingers over your wet cunt.

“Are you desperate for me, idañus?” he hissed into your ear, his hand delivering a firm slap to your rear.

“Yes, I need you,” you whimpered.

“Beg sweetly, idañus,” he taunted, one hand cupping your full breast as the tip of his cock teased your entrance.

“Please, please, I feel as if I might go mad if I do not have your cock soon, idañus!”

A dark chuckle spilled from his lips, his hand moving from your breast to your hip as he sunk deep inside you. You mewled happily at the feeling, clenching greedily around him.

“You’ve become quite spoiled lately. When our babe is born, I shall have to take you in hand,” he purred, his words sending sparks through your lower belly.

Pleasure spun through your head, making you dizzy as you lost all comprehension for words, merely mewling and moaning as if you were a wanton whore populating Silk Street. All you wanted at this moment was your brother-husband’s cock, allowing him to take you apart on it. His chest pressed tightly against your back as one of his legs rested over yours, letting him sink deeper inside. His large hands kneaded your breasts before one cupped your belly while he sharply thrust his hips, hitting the spot inside you that made you scream with pleasure. His flesh slapped against yours, the slick wet sound spurring you on, and a few moments later, you drenched his cock.

He remained inside you, tenderly stroking your hair as he murmured words of praise in your ear while tenderly caressing your belly. Your mind felt cloudy as you melted in his arms, feeling one with him. Sleep overtook you quickly and you did not rouse until the bright sun streamed through the windows. You frowned, noting that Aemond was not by your side, but he did have duties to attend. Your ladies entered, and you instructed them to help you dress in your riding habit, tailored to accommodate your pregnancy. You arranged to break your fast in your chambers, enjoying a light meal of bread, hard cheese, blackberries, and sweet clear wine. Excitement dulled your appetite, but you had to ensure the babe was provided nutrients lest you receive a scolding from Aemond.

“Prince Aemond has requested you join him by the Dragonmont, princess,” Lady Mya stated, giving you a curtsey as she entered before tasking herself with braiding your hair.

“Very well, I shall join him a moment. How fares Naela this morning?”

“In her cheerful disposition, she is a delight, princess,” Mya beamed.

“I will visit with her when I return. You all may remain here unless you wish to witness me claim my dragon,” you smiled.

“I’d rather not thank you for the reprieve, princess,” Lady Aennesa murmured, turning pallid.

You felt in good spirits as you ventured to the base of the Dragonmont, Aemond waiting with two dragonkeepers as Drimmi flew above Blackwater Bay. You watched in awe as she swooped toward the water, diving her massive back claws into the sea to secure a squid. She devoured it with a simple snap of her jaw. While the keepers fed the dragons housed in King’s Landing, the ones on Dragonstone hunted, which you supposed contributed to their larger frames. Drimmi landed on the beach, lowering her head, her nostrils flaring as she picked up your scent in the air and slowly moved closer.

“Go to her,” Aemond encouraged, pressing his hand to your lower back.

You supposed a bit of nervousness was to be expected; dragons were dangerous creatures, after all, but you weren’t frightened. You felt peace as you approached her calmly and extended your palm toward her.

“Rytsas, Drimmi (hello),” you whispered.

She seemed to study you intensely before pressing her muzzle against your palm. Fire coursed through your veins as you stroked her scaled flesh. Flames sparking under your fingertips; as you realized her amethyst eyes were almost the same shade hue of yours. Time seemed to stand infinitely still as you both took each other in. A rider becoming one with their dragon. A sacred bond that was not easily broken, only through death. She was your mount and laid claim to you as much as you did to her. 

She lowered closer to the ground, one winging pressing against the sand as she signaled for you to mount her. Carefully, you climbed onto her wing, mindful of your belly, before taking hold of her spikes as the wing lifted you higher. Steadily, you swung a leg over her back as you judged a stable area to ride until she was properly saddled, carefully avoiding her spikes.

“Sōvēs, Drimmi (fly),” you commanded, holding tightly to her as she lifted into the air.

The wind whipped at your cheeks as she soared around the island. You had been on the backs of Vhagar and Caraxes, but this was an entirely different feeling. She belonged to you; it made you feel powerful. Euphoria blossomed through you, and you felt your heart beat in time with hers. Aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā (I am yours, and you are mine). You enjoyed the short flight as Drimmi landed on the beach, lowering her body so you could dismount. The dragonkeepers bristled, calling out commands to her as they herded her toward the caves. Aemond wore a broad smile as he took hold of your gloved hands.

“You did well,” he praised.

“Thank you,” you beamed, nuzzling close to him as his arms wrapped around you.

Naela sat before the fire; a ruby-scaled egg hugged close to her chest as you cradled Tygar in your arms. You lifted his downy silver head to your nose, inhaling the sweet, milky scent. Jaehaera sat next to you, her small legs dangling over the edge of the chair as she worked on her needlepoint. She proved to be skilled at it, just like her mother. Your heart ached for Helaena and her sons. Rhaenyra had approved your request to take Jaehaera to ward with you and Aemond on Dragonstone shortly before birthing Tygar. Morghul had taken well to Dragonstone, growing rapidly as Jaehaera adjusted to her new accommodations. Naela was taken with her, following her around as if she were her elder sister.

“Might we return your egg to the warming chambers, sweetling?” you smiled at Naela.

“No,” she pouted, hugging it tighter against her.

“Alright, it may keep you company tonight, but on the morrow, we must return it in hopes that it will hatch soon,” you reasoned, and she nodded, silver ringlets falling in front of her violet eyes.

Tygar yawned before snuggling his face into your chest. He seemed of sweet temperament like his sister, and his birth had been relatively easy, with Aemond dutifully at your side the entire time as you welcomed his son into the world. Rhaenyra insisted on an extravagant name-day celebration once he reached a year. You were shaken from your thoughts by the sound of Aemond’s boots.

“Kepus!” Naela squealed, gently placing her egg on the hearth before rushing into Aemond’s arms.

He scooped her up, placing a kiss upon her cheek. Jaehaera glanced up from her needlepoint, giving him a warm smile.

“The hour of the bat approaches, yet I see we are all still awake,” Aemond chuckled.

“We were enjoying the fire's peace and warmth, but I suppose it is time for bed,” you smiled.

“I will see the young ladies to their maids,” Aemond offered, and you nodded your thanks.

“My egg, Kepus, my egg!” Naela huffed, her tiny arms reaching towards it.

“Yes, we mustn’t forget your egg. How silly of me to forget,” he hummed, scooping up the red egg in his other arm. Naela quickly drew it close while Aemond offered his hand to Jaehaera.

“Good night,” Jaehaera whispered, kissing your cheek before taking Aemond’s hand.

“Nigh nigh, Muñus,” Naela yawned, her purple eyes drooping with sleep.

Your heart warmed at the way she lisped over the s. You wish both girls a pleasant slumber and sweet dreams as they went off with Aemond. You were not ready to hand over Tygar yet, so you moved to the bed, resting against a pillow as you cuddled him against your breast. When Aemond returned, he settled in behind you, cradling you and Tygar in his arms.

“He has your nose,” you murmured.

“I believe you have the same nose,” Aemond teased, nuzzling your temple.

“I suppose I do,” you chuckled.

“He is rather perfect, just like Naela.”

You nodded your agreement. “As their future siblings will be, one hopes.”

“How many shall we plan for?”

“Certainly not thirteen,” you scoffed.

“We are in agreement there.”

“Mayhaps two more. Four seems a good number,” you smiled as Tygar grew heavy in your arms.

“Indeed it does.”

You allowed your eyes to close while in the warm embrace of your husband with your son nestled close. Drimmi’s boisterous bray filled the night air, bringing a smile to your face. All was exceedingly well.

Tag list: @watercolorskyy @the-wonderland-madnesss

#fae's writings #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #castling series #aemond x twin!reader #aemond x twin

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AFTERMATH

SUMMARY : she’s human and ben wants to push her limits, fuck anyone else who got in the way of his mission.

PAIRING : soldier boy x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, choking, no plot :’(

WORD COUNT : 1.3k

A/N : title from a muse song. I’m trying to post all the things I’ve already written before getting started on new projects. this makes me so happy xx

“How many’s that?” Ben asked with a smirk on his lips, plunging his fingers in and out of her. Y/N could only whine in response, her head rolled to the side, the build up of another orgasm growing from within. He trailed his lips down her chest, the hot kisses felt like pleasurable sparks over her nerves, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling her sensitive skin and feeling just as good.

When she didn’t respond, he tilted his head at her, quickly thinking of a way to get her to answer him. His long, messy hair fell in front of his green eyes, waiting for her to look at him, but she didn’t. He slid his fingers out of her and his eyes flickered down to them, glistening and wet with her warm arousal.

She squirmed at the sensation of his warm breath on her pussy, her orgasm slowly began fading, but her sensitive clit still throbbed with desire. She opened her eyes, blinked the haze from her vision and quickly focused on the amusement and arrogance on his face.

“Ben?” She murmured, threading her fingers through his soft hair. He hummed softly, shifted his attention back on her face and brought his fingers into his mouth. He moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut while savouring the taste of her on his fingers while she watched. He slipped his fingers out of his mouth and grabbed the underside of her thighs to open her up, digging his fingers roughly into her flesh.

“How many times did I make you cum?” He asked slowly, gazing at her from between her legs. He felt her calves press tightly against the back of his arms and more wetness grew between her legs. She let her head fall back into the pillows, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but he was too busy licking his lips hungrily and staring between her legs to really notice.

He still sensed her irritation but leaned into her anyway, his nose bumping against her clit. He licked a flat stripe of her pussy, started at her entrance to taste her and through her soaked folds, the tip of his tongue teasingly flicking up at her clit. His mouth watered, a little moan vibrated through him and against her cunt to add to the torture.

She fisted the bedsheets, felt the fires of her orgasm flickering again, his tongue teasingly brushed up and down her clit. “Fuck….” She grunted, squirming when he refused to change the pace and pressure, keeping her right on the edge, the fire in her staying light and warm. Only occasionally, he’d change the speed and the way he licked at her cunt. He’d only stop when she jolted, when she moaned and arched her back, when she wiggled her hips, fighting against his tight hold on her thighs.

“How many?” He mumbled against her.

“Five… five,” she whispered breathlessly, giving in. Her toes curled when he sucked her clit into his mouth rewardingly, two fingers slipping back into her. They curled against her walls, knuckle-deep inside her with her arousal dripping down to his palm. Smirking at the way she soaked his hand, he stretched her velvety walls by adding a third finger, pumping them into her quickly. He sucked roughly at her clit until she moaned his name loudly for a sixth time.

“You’re fine,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when she tugged his hair to stop him from sucking her clit. He sat back on his legs, brought one hand to her knee to keep her legs apart, and stroked his cock with the hand that was soaked in her arousal. “Fuck, look at you… all hot and beautiful.”

He grunted deeply and twisted his hand on his cock teasingly. His eyes were glued on her, starting with her half-lidded eyes and her parted lips, trying to catch her breath. He trailed his eyes down to her chest which rose and fell with each panting breath she took. He traced the curves of her body with his greedy eyes, her smooth skin covered with a thin layer of sweat, her hands now resting on her stomach.

He tugged at his cock faster, tightened his grip, a groan rumbling through his chest. His eyes had moved down to her weeping folds for a few moments before he moved closer to her. The heat of her body radiated to him like a sun and made his skin hotter, flushed and pink, sweaty from the rapid beating of his own heart. He moved his hand away from her knee to wrap it around her neck, his grip tightening safely.

“Ben,” she moaned, staring into his dark eyes. His cock throbbed in his hand and he gently released her neck before tightening his grip again, turned on by the way she breathed unevenly. He released her neck so she could breathe again, leaned over her to kiss her roughly instead. He parted from her lips, but continued to jerk himself off, the fiery feeling in his stomach spreading throughout his body.

She slipped her hands into his hair again, pulled him back down to continue the passionate kiss, and held onto him desperately. She tingled between her legs when his cock brushed through her folds and bumped against her clit, reigniting the flames of her desire. The heat of him turned her on, as if he’d drugged her with just a kiss, with just a touch of his skin on hers.

He groaned into her mouth, pulled away slightly to press his forehead against hers when he came. A string of saliva connected their kiss-swollen lips, his warm breath puffed over her wet mouth, and his nose bumped gently against her own. Hot ropes of his cum painted her stomach and pelvis and his grip on her throat tightened until he was beginning to soften in his hand and his orgasm was starting to subside.

She gasped for breath when he let go of her neck. He felt his entire body relax, nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and rested his weight on her body. Unlike him, she was gentle and careful. She carded her fingers through his soft hair, her nails scratched his scalp pleasantly and an appreciative grumble resonated through his chest.

He pressed a kiss to her jaw, ghosted her skin with his soft lips to reach her mouth. He gave her a messy kiss, leaned his weight on his arm by her head to drag his rough hand down her body. He took her breath away again, pulled away just far enough so he could follow the path of his hand with his eyes.

He smeared his cum over her hip bone, used his fingers to gather his cum and brought it down to her abused folds. She twitched when his fingers brushed against her clit and she tried to shut her legs around his hand, but he gave her thigh a gentle slap that forced her to spread them open.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he praised softly. He kissed her cheek, gathered more of his cum and shoved his fingers inside her vagina. He pumped them into her slowly—twice or four times, then pulled them out to gather the last of his cum, but this time he brought his fingers to her lips. She was ready for him after a single tap of his fingertips against her lips and her tongue welcomed him into her mouth.

Her lips closed around his fingers, her gaze catching his when she sucked on them and he carefully started to thrust them in and out of her mouth. She hummed softly at the mixture of his and her cum, her teeth grazed his fingers when he pulled them out, and he awarded her with another kiss.

“Ben, I have to meet Butcher and Hugh-” she gasped when he pushed his cock into her smoothly.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dollface,” he chuckled, his cock already hardening inside her again. He rolled over onto his back, roughly grasped her hips and gave her a charming smirk now that she was on top. “Let’s see how much more you can handle.”

taglist

@syrma-sensei

main masterlist

soldier boy masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys smut #3.2

[spankinganthologies]

Stepmoms from Spankingwomen

"Is there any way we can not tell my dad about this?"

On Christmas Eve, Andrea cuts a deal with her new stepmother, a woman she barely knows when you get right down to it, in order to keep her father in the dark when it comes to a few winter break transgressions. The only thing Andrea didn't realize was that her stepmother, who was only 13 years older than her, was a firm believer in old school discipline. 

When she agreed to take a spanking in exchange for secrecy, Andrea didn't realize she was going to be put over the knee to take a panties down, bare ass beating with a big nasty brush. By the time her eyes were blurry with tears, staring directly into the lights on the Christmas tree as she got her bottom blistered, she had already realized that maybe the smarter play would have been trying to charm her way out of punishment with her daddy.

(this should have happened to me fairly regularly, but it didn't)

It turned out, that despite her youthful appearance, Mary's new stepmother was rather old school when it came to matters of discipline. She knew how to handle a brat efficiently and effectively - even a brat well into her college years. Over the knee, skirt up and panties down - there was nothing Mary could say to talk her way out of it. 

And it was as if her new stepmother was making up for lost time, for all those years that Mary had gone unspanked. When she took Mary across her knees, the spanking would seem to last forever, until Mary's poor bottom was red and swollen and her throat was sore from hollering.

It's an embarrassing routine but one that Trisha knows well.

Before being taken across her mother's lap and spanked, she is required to stand naked in the corner and think about the reasons she is not being permitted to wear clothes, about why she is going to be getting a spanking, how her bottom will be burning before too long and what exactly she needs to change in her behavior to avoid a scene like this playing out again in the future. Trisha knows she will be asked about these things both while getting her butt blistered and then in the immediate aftermath as well, so she knows that she had better have some good answers.

And then, the spanking itself.

Two sessions. First, her mother's hand, which is plenty bad enough. But then a humiliating naked trek down the hall and into her mother's bedroom, crying and bottom very much reddened already, to retrieve the hairbrush and bring it back to the living room. Then back over the knee for the finale which will leave Trisha squealing as her mother spanks some much needed sense into her with that evil brush. Face covered in snot and tears, Trisha will be stood back up (not allowed to rub her bottom at all) and the lecture will continue.

Finally, it's back to the corner, still naked, while she tries to catch her breath and stop boohooing. Now, her little backside is fire engine red. Shamefully, she's very damp between her legs - something that happens whenever she gets a damn good spanking. She can't help but think about how she'll masturbate for hours later before falling asleep. Her nipples are hard and ache. But the lesson is learned. If she can be a good girl in the corner, she will be allowed to get dressed and go upstairs before her father or brother get home.

She's going to spank that defiance right out of her spoiled step-daughter. All toughness will soon melt away and the tears will come. It's quite humbling to be crying like a baby with your jeans and panties around your knees and your bum rapidly turning bright red. A good spanking can really take a brat down a peg or two!

***

If Candy's monster of a stepdaughter refused to listen to reason and continued down this path, then you can be damn sure Candy was going to do something about it.

Candy may have only been 14 years older than the bitch, but she knew in her heart she could teach her lesson. The little brat had never been spanked in her entire life and she also didn't have the guts to fight back. Even if she did, Candy could overpower her easily. She was 100% confident about that!

There was no faster path to a real and meaningful attitude adjustment than the path of a crimson behind and that was exactly the path Candy intended to take her stepdaughter down. She intended to take her over her knee, pull down her panties and give her the spanking of all spankings. Things were going to change. There was a new law of the land. 

And after she blistered that nightmare's bare bottom, Candy intended to go to the store and find a suitable hairbrush - just like the one Candy's mother had used on Candy's behind years ago - and then she was going to put that hairbrush to good use going forward. The little brat may never love her, but she was damn sure going to respect her.

(okay, I wasn't a full-blown 'monster' or 'nightmare' but I'm sure she wanted to spank me plenty hard more than a few times!)

There were plenty of lessons learned with her butt bare and her panties down around her knees. Sometimes the cane, sometimes the strap - her mother was a resourceful woman who could punish a naughty bottom with the best of them. A countless number of their "little chats" ended in tears.

Mary's new stepmother has her own ideas about how to deal with errant young ladies, no matter how old they are or how mature they think they might be. It seems like Mary is in for a rather rude awakening.

***

***

Jenny was always punished in the living room.  This sometimes proved to be awkward as there were times when her stepmother sent her to her room to wait for a spanking.  Then, when her stepmother decided she was ready, Jenny would have to come back downstairs where a chair would then be waiting in the center of the room.  It was always the same: over-the-knee, panties down and one very sorry girl.  The awkward (and most humiliating) part was the walk of shame back upstairs.  Jenny would be trying not trip over her underwear, shuffling and still crying hard as she marched her fire engine red ass to bed. 

Her stepmother was a cold, calm and firm disciplinarian. She was strict and knew how to spank.  Jenny begged her father for reprieve, claiming she was far too old to be spanked, but he just shrugged. "If you don't want to be punished, then you need to learn how to behave," he would tell her and the matter would close.

The spankings themselves were long and painful.  Both of Jenny's cheeks would be sore and swollen for days making sitting uncomfortable.  But it wasn't just her ass that her stepmother would target. Oh, no. Jenny's stepmother spanked the backs of her thighs too. Hard smacks over and over causing Jenny to shriek and kick.  Jenny would be left raw from the top of her bottom nearly to her knees.  The rest of the girls on the swim team always knew when Jenny had earned herself another spanking.

#spankingwomen #stepmom spanks #mom spanks #college

[dashjenners]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

words: 878 🫧

“Jett, baby, come pick your bubbles!”

You coax the bath with tons of floating fun: boats and rubber ducks, even some of those pop squishies —he'll be so busy that he'll barely notice he's getting clean.

The pitter-patter of his feet gets closer when you feel a tiny touch at your side, his baby blues staring right at you. “There you are,” you shrill. “Do you want the elephant or the tiger?”

You held up each bottle one after the other, always giving him the choice. Bubbles, they were a once-in-a-while treat for him.

“Ty, ty!” He muses.

Giggling, you tossed his shirt and lifted him into the bath, the water warm and no deeper than his waist. You instantly began using a small pitcher, pouring warm water gently over his head, careful to shield just above his forehead to not let it drip down to his eyes.

You began to lather a dime-sized dollop of no-tears shampoo between your hands, working through his curls and coiling the little swirls at the back of his head. He stayed occupied in his own world, splashing around and squeezing at his pop squishies.

Using a washcloth, you gently wipe, starting with that adorable face, always being extra careful around his sensitive eyes. You pay close attention to the folds and crevices near his neck, the outside of the ears and sides of his nose, and even his little rolls of chub.

He saw a bubble float past him, fat and wobbly and turning that dragonfly blue they always turned just before they burst. He was actually reaching high in the air, your insouciant baby boy. Some of the bubbles drifted up through the bathroom, even above the lights. You were too intent on his fun to see the celestial aftermath, but you could imagine they were very lovely. You were kneeling on the ground with Jett in front and that effulgence of bubbles rising, and so much laughter. Ah, this life, this world.

Somewhere in the surrounding bubble heavens, you reach for a comb to work through his curls. Their wet ringlets are far thinner, but still luscious as ever. They pull soft and smooth down to a mini mullet, even as he’s actively catching bubbles and splashing up from the bath.

Frowning adoringly, you playfully blow a fresh handful of bubbles at him as he plops back into the water, laughing over his shoulder at you. He was happy to just sit in the tub, cooing and splashing his toes; the soundtrack to your life.

So suddenly, your bubble party was interrupted by Joe walking in. “Wha-ho, what’s goin’ on in here?” He steps further, wearing nothing but those raunchy sweatshorts. “Hey mamas,” he says, waylaying you with his usual abundance of kisses.

“Hi baby,” you say, pouring the pitcher down Jett’s back before starting to dry him off.

You help your cutie step out of the tub to keep him from slipping or falling, continuing to gently pat his skin dry with a clean towel before carrying him over to his pad. You lay him down carefully and lather on a fragrance-free moisturizer to keep his skin hydrated, along with a fresh diaper.

Joe was next to you, brushing his teeth and chuckling at Jett’s spiderman stare. “You’re trouble,” he says, mouth full of frothy toothpaste.

“Joeee,” you giggle, buttoning his fire truck onesie. “He’s just playing.”

He spits, rinses, and meets your eyes again. You’ve seen this look from him before, soft and focused like the sight of you makes him go stupid; he gets obsessed with the smallest of things. His fingers move slightly at the back of your hip, just under the edge of your leggings, when you feel the most tender pinch at the plushy skin underneath. “Why don’t you get ready, I’ll put him to bed, yeah?”

Joe’s hand leaves your thigh, and he rubs his thumb over the creases between your eyes, smoothing out the tired lines, then runs it down over your cheek, cupping your face. His voice sounds so hoarse when he’s sleepy, almost like a scratch of sandpaper. You blink at him, and you feel a little flip in your stomach; maybe another kick from the baby, but you’d like to think it was his care that spun it a few times.

“Thanks, babe,” you dote, bringing Jett to his feet.

He chuckles at the tiny ringlet looping over his forehead, knowing it is nearly identical to his. “You ready for nu-nights little man?” He asks warmly.

Jett leans into his side, encircling his hip, when a small cry of “Tigey…” slips from his baby lips.

You beheld his sunken face, finding it too cute as you gave a small pat to his bottom. “It’s okay J, tigey’s in bed.”

“He’s waiting for you,” Joe adds with a little bounce of him. “Wanna go get him?”

Jett nods gently with a baby finger peeling at his lips, and that’s when Joe did that thing, the tongue thing with his mouth at you before checking lower at your belly, then at your eyes again with a bite to his bottom lip.

“Go, Burrow,” you quip with an eye roll, seeing your two boys fly through space out of the bathroom.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #dad joe #dashjenners fic

[chaoticloving]

afterparty

frat/hockey!harry styles x reader

summery: after an intense after party from harry winning the game, the fire alarm get set off, revealing a secret relationship

warning: allusions to sex

a/n: TESTS DONE FUCK YEAH

The after party was intense, to put lightly.

After another amazing win by Harry and his team, they organized a party at the frat. Beer, booze, and vodka was all throughout the house—sprite for the designated drivers—and cheers could be heard all along campus.

Y/n and Harry had a quite relationship, no one knew that the future hockey star and the genius future lawyer were dating. An unluckily pair that met during an Economics class, in a time where Y/n had no clue what she wanted to do in her life and Harry had little confidence in his hockey career. They happen to sit next to each other, taking subtle glances at each other. But it was when Y/n noticed Harry’s excelling scores in the math heavy portion of the lesson class that she saw her chance to strike, and start conversation.

It’s all history now. They are older, their last year in college, plans in the works for the rest of their lives; nothing was for certain, except that they would stay together. They are confident, they found their right path and are happy—they just can’t fess up to their friends that their together. They both feel guilt, but it’s their life, and they can inform people on certain aspects of it at the right time.

But at the party, they hung out, talked with friends, drunk, played games, drunk, and made subtle gestures to each other that everyone was too drunk to realize how crude they were. The party was loud, music tearing the eardrums of people as they danced, and it was packed. It was for certain that you would have someone’s sweat on you by the end of the night.

But that wasn’t the after party.

It wasn’t an official party, in fact, only Y/n and Harry were present. It was intimate and loving moment between the couple; close, passionate, and sloppy. They were drunk, so it wasn’t the most complex of sex that they’ve ever had, but it was damn good.

The aftermath of laying naked in Harry’s bed was just as great, sobering up and loving the heat radiating from each other. Harry had his face buried in Y/n’s chest, arms wrapped snuggly around the women’s torso as Y/n had her hands mixed in his hair, massaging his scalp nicely. Harry’s thumb was softly rubbing her skin, brushing away any and all insecurities she had.

Harry softly hummed when he was drifting off, a way to not let his mind wonder to worrisome thoughts and that was subtle enough to allow Y/n to rest. He liked making up melodies or replicating some song he heard at the gym.

His humming was coming to a end though—Y/n’s heart rate was softening and causing Harry’s to do the same, he was drifting off, mind mush of wacky dreams of Y/n. She had fallen asleep around five minutes into his humming, passing out after the exhausting party and the even more tiring sex, but made sure her love for Harry was known to settle any worrying midnight doubts.

A loud blaring alarm ruined their night though. Harry had fully awoken first since not being in REM in the first place. He turning over and noticed the sound coming from the fire alarm. His eyes went wide as he used his arms that were around Y/n and gripped her hard, pulling her up with him and waking her in the process.

“Wha’s that noise.” She mumbled, eyes not even fully open.

“Fire alarm. We need to get out.” Harry had put a sweatshirt of his on Y/n guiding it through her head and then put boxers on straight after.

He grabbed a pair of boxers for himself, turning around to see Y/n a little more awake as she put her arms in the sleeves and stood up. Harry was panicking, so he did the sane thing and lifted her up and took her through the house to the closest exit.

Him and Y/n were met with the cold wind of three in the morning. Other members of the team were outside the house, all equally shivering and trying to warm themselves up in their boxers and shirts. A few were straggling behind the couple, but no one until Louis noticed there was one more person accounted here then what should be.

“Alright, who’s extra is here!” Louis shouted over the alarms. “I’m gonna need to know for the report!”

The guys murmured, snickering about one of their friends getting cocked block by a fire; until the eyes fell on the only guy in plane boxers, hugging someone to his chest, Harry.

“Damn, Harry?”

Laughs roared out as the boys nudged one another. Louis smiled and walked over to his best friend.

“Alright!” He called out the group of boys, getting them back into their own business. Louis looked over the couple, curious as to who the girl it. But when he heard the voice, he was shook.

“Hey Louis.” Y/n mumbled, still a little out of it.

“Y/n?” His mouth is open, head looking up at Harry and then back at the girl; his frat brothers watch the interaction too, all tsking and others smiling, mumbling about getting some cash and pizzas. “No fucking way—are you two just hooking up or..?”

“Together.” Harry asserts, arms tensing more around his girlfriend. “Don’t get any ideas, dick.”

Louis put his hands up, stepping back. “Hey. I wouldn’t, just glad everyone’s out here and safe.”

Louis went over to the fire chief, probably telling them what he knows. Harry hugs Y/n though, looking for a bit of comfort with his friends peering eyes. One of the reasons Harry was unwilling to tell the boys about his relationship is just how much they liked Y/n; he knew damn well she was hot and sexy, so did the other boys, and if they knew she’d be around a lot—no way they wouldn’t make their lives a living hell.

“You good, H?” She whispered softly, thumb stroking Harry’s arm.

“Cold.” Is all he spoke, but Y/n wasn’t buying it.

“Embarrassed?” Y/n offered.

Harry shook his head and kissed his girlfriends shoulder. “Never embarrassed of you, love.” Harry hesitated before continuing. “Just don’t like the idea of the boys knowing we sleep together—I’m terrified for the pranks their going to pull to try and get you to go out with them now.”

Y/n smiled kindly at the dumb boy, he was lovable, but he could be a little stupid sometimes. “No prank or shirtless boy could take me away from you.” She chided.

She squeezed Harry’s Harry’s hand three times, then another three times after. I love you.

After a minute of Louis using wild hand and arm gestures to the fire captain, he finally rallied the boys and Y/n back and gave told them the cost was clear. “And Niall?”

“Yeah mate?”

“Never put another pop tart in the toaster ever again.” Every had an annoyed groan and people started to, playfully, shove the man for interrupting their sleep while simultaneously laughing that he cocked blocked Harry.

“We were sleeping!” Harry would shout back at any man that made that same joke which only made them burst out with laughter even more.

Eventually, since the damages were only a ruined toaster, everyone went back inside and Y/n and Harry snuggled under the covers. Although Harry would never admit it, he loved being the little spoon but facing inwards so his face would rest on Y/n’s boobs, and that’s exactly their current position now.

“Think maybe we should spend tomorrow night at mine?” Y/n offered. “Think Lila is there though.”

Harry snuggled even closer to his girl, drifting off slowly. “Maybe we should just move in together.”

Y/n giggled softly. “As much as I’d love that we are broke uni students. Wait till your off playing Hockey professionally and I have my job; then we’ll talk.”

“Hmmk.” Harry hummed. “Can’t wait until we don’t have to be quite anymore when we have sex.”

“I think you mean you don’t have to be quite anymore.” Y/n sighed softly.

“‘scuse me for telling ya how good ya feel.” Harry words were slowly slurring together, but also talking about sex slowly got him riled up.

“Let go to sleep before you get hard.” Y/n sighed. “Too early for morning wood.”

“Never to early to be horny for you babe.” Harry shifted his body and slightly rolled the couple over so Harry was completely on top of Y/n. “Could fuck you right now.”

“Sure you can.” Y/n said, eyes closed but knowing Harry’s are nearly there too. “Tomorrow we can wake your mates up so let’s save it for then.”

“Alright.” Harry kissed his loves nose. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #college!harry #hockey!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles collage #harry styles oneshot #fratboy!harry #frat!harry

[toxicanonymity]

Any more Raider!Joel? 🥺🥺

I’ll sell my soul for anything about raider Joel

Home

1.3k / raider!Joel x fem!Reader / raider master

mood board by @milla-frenchy

WARNINGS: Dark fluff.  Angst.  Mention of cum. Aftermath of skin carving. Joel carries reader. Sleep kissing, grinding. Angst: Joel is mean in the morning. Credits/shoutouts: everyone who's asked about kissing him, @javier-penas-wifexx420 (shoes)

🖤 picks up from Raider: J. Miller

You pause on the way up the hill.  "It hurts," you whimper, cowering and holding yourself where he claimed you. Your chest burns, too. 

"C'mere," he says and hoists you up over his shoulder for the rest of the walk. Joel's trailer overlooks the stash house and gravel road so he can see trouble coming.  He sets you down, holds the door open for you, then lets it close behind him.

"Got ya somethin'," he says as he puts down the duffle bag on the table. He takes out a few wash cloths then a faded red can.  Chef Boyardee.

-

You could cry, you're so grateful. You throw your arms around him.  He stays tense and doesn't hug you back.  He hardens his face and says, "Take a rest. I'll be outside cookin'."  You curl up on Joel’s bed while he makes a fire outside and heats up the Chef Boyardee. 

When the door to the trailer opens again, you come right to the table, eyes wide like a kitten at feeding time.  It’s been a while since you had something other than squirrel.  You sit down at the small table and wait patiently.  Joel sets down a pot of beefaroni and a pot of boiled water.  He says, "Don't wanna eat too fast. make yourself sick. C'mere." He pats the stool to his left. You slide into it.  He gets a spoonful from the pot and blows on it then brings it to your mouth.  You open up and slurp it down.  It tastes and feels so good. He's right, you would probably wolf it down and make yourself sick.  

When a little bit dribbles onto your dress, Joel says "okay," and sets the spoon in the pot.  You're afraid he's mad.  "Right here." He pats his lap.  You sit on his lap side saddle and he feeds you a few more spoonfuls.  Then he hands you the spoon.  He says "slow, just like I was." He smooths your dress and  watches you eat the rest.  He unlaces your dirty converse all stars while you're eating and slips them off for you.  

You offer Joel some of the beefaroni, but he says you can have the rest of you eat it real slow. He holds a hand on your stomach then slides it down your dress, lightly grazing over your thigh, then your knee, your shin, the top of your foot.  He holds your foot in his massive hand and brushes the delicate arch with his fingers.  You squirm because it tickles and brace yourself for scolding but he doesn't. He just tightens his hand around your foot.  When you're finished with the spoonfuls, you scrape the edges of the pot with the spoon and then turn the pot up and drink as much as you can from it. For the first time in weeks your stomach feels warm and full. 

"Thank you," you say with tears in your eyes.  Joel doesn't make eye contact. He reaches for one of the washcloths and dips it into the boiled water. He puts his left arm under your right arm and braces your back. Then he starts to clean your chest, gently dabbing the trails of blood that have run up to your neck or down into your dress.  You begin to sniffle. He sighs. "Don't wanna hurt ya, sweet pea.  Don't want anyone else to, either."  

When he's done, you ask if you can go to the bathroom.  You haven't seen the carving yourself yet. He lets you stand up, then says, "you're gonna have stuff comin' out of here," lightly pushing your dress into your crack. "Maybe for days. It's a lot." He lets you go with a gentle pat on the butt.

-

You stand at the small, chipped sink and look at yourself in the cracked dirty mirror, reading the text on your chest backwards in the mirror. "J. Miller."  You almost finger the letters then remember not to touch it.  You hardly recognize yourself.  Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot.  You use the toilet and hear Joel cleaning up from dinner.  You stay in the bathroom enjoying a rare moment of privacy.  Then his footsteps get closer.  "You ok?" His face sounds like it might be right at the door. 

"Um. Yeah," you say and open the door. 

"Ok. Let's get you to bed." 

Joel tucks you into his bed.  It's an old, full size mattress on a cheap metal frame.  It's better than the sash house cots.  At least it has sheets and a blanket. 

"You're not coming?" You ask.

"No, not yet," he says.  "Gotta figure some stuff out.  Be right outside." He cracks the bedroom window before he goes outside. 

Joel goes outside and makes a fire.  You listen to it snap and pop and can hear the slosh of whiskey in a bottle.  Your whole body is spent. You shudder to think what you'd be doing if Joel hadn't saved you from FEDRA.

-

You fall asleep and don't even notice when Joel gets into bed and spoons you. 

You only wake up when he startles in his sleep, which jerks your body. He doesn't wake up, but he tightens his arm around you and his hand digs into the wounds on your chest.  You push back against his forearm and he stirs, confused. 

“My chest,” you whisper.  “You said don’t touch it.” 

"Shhhhh," he says without fully waking up.  He cups your breast and cages you, bringing his leg over yours.  His naked dick presses into you.  

Then his lips tenderly press into the nape of your neck and stay.  He’s never done that before.  It feels really good.  Warm.  Like you’re supposed to be right there in his arms. 

-

When you wake up in the morning, he’s still asleep.  You slowly, carefully turn around, his arm still draped over your side,  but loosely. Now you’re facing him.   He looks so peaceful, so harmless.  You know he’s not.  You study his face - the lines between his brows even as he sleeps, the patches in his beard, the hook of his nose, the way his lips part just slightly.  You scoot yourself closer, and your heart races.  

You dare to press your lips into his.  His arm pulls you in and his brow furrows as he just barely kisses you back.  You reach your arm over his waist to hug him as you kiss him again.  He kisses you back harder, then his cock hardens against your front.  He grunts as he grinds himself into you.  You softly moan into his mouth, then he jolts awake and pushes himself away.  

“The hell are you doin’??” He looks at you like you should know better, then averts his eyes as your face becomes pathetic and wounded.

“I - what - nothing,” you stammer softly.  

He sits up and wipes his mouth off then covers his cock for the first time and turns away.   “God damn,” he says and smooths his beard with both hands. He never meant to kiss you in the first place. 

Your eyes sting, but you want to recover. “I thought maybe I could suck your cock,” you offer.  “If you want.”  

He picks up his tight jeans from the floor and pulls them on, too disturbed to accept.  “No,” he says.  “Get dressed.”  He won’t look at you.  

On the walk down the hill to the stash house, he doesn’t say a word.  You walk a few steps behind him and admire his ass in his tight jeans. When you’re almost to the back door of the house, he says in a hushed voice, “you’re stayin’ here today.”  

He brings you back to the room with two beds.  He chains you to the radiator, briefly looks you in the face, and it seems like he's going to say something, but he doesn't. He gives your guard the key for bathroom trips, and reminds the guard what happens to him if anything happens to you.  

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @zliteraturehoe @neobanguniverse @quietlyignoringyou

#joel miller x reader #dark!Joel Miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #possessive!joel miller #raider!Joel Miller #raider!Joel #dark!Joel #possessive!joel #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #toxicanonymity ☠️ #OG!raider☠️ #tw: violence #cw: injury #raider!joel miller fluff #dark!joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #dark fluff #dark fluff ☠️

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Eleven

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader x Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Smut, p in v, doggy style, dirty talk, language, finger sucking, smidge of praise kink, hair pulling, spanking, ass play, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,826

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetcheeks, and I won’t stop. Not until your pussy pops.”

His words whipped around inside your mind, turning you on to no end. Without warning, the walls of your vagina clamped down. You shuddered, unable to stop it.

He had you now. And he would get what he wanted.

You pushed up on your hands, but a hard shove on your back had you faceplanting the mattress.

“I didn’t say you could kneel. Fucking stay there until I say so.”

Yes, sir.

Oh God. Your pussy clenched at nothing, your hands fisting the bedsheets, desperate to control the need raging through you. He dropped his hand from your jaw, body retreating off the mattress. Large hands gripped the band of your lounge pants. With one tug, he had them over your ass, along with your panties. He whipped them right off, and you heard two sets of material pooling on the floor the next moment.

Ben nestled above you again, bed dipping as he retook his position over you. His bare hands gripped your thighs, and he pushed your ass up.

Cool air met your heated core. It could not render the burning intensity of your arousal as your bare pussy was presented before him.

A thick, hot pole brushed against your inner thigh, causing you to jerk. A dark chuckle escaped from Ben’s throat.

“Suck on these.”

He pushed two fingers past your lips. And you did what he asked of you. You sucked the thick digits, swiping them occasionally with your tongue. A deep groan rumbled from Ben.

“Fuck, baby. Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers? I can imagine your hot little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Your cunt twitched. Did his filthy mouth turn you on? Yes, it did. Mark had never said anything like that to you. He had never bothered trying.

Ben pulled his fingers free, and the next moment, they were sliding deep into your pussy. You moaned, duvet soaking up the sound. Mark hadn’t made you moan like that. Ever.

Your snug muscles clenched around him.

“Fuck me. You’re tighter than a nun. Jesus, it really has been a while for you.”

You whimpered, white-knuckling the sheets as he stroked. You shuddered through each stroke, cunt pulsing around him. His fingers curled, stroking against a soft pad of tissue. You jerked forward, pussy fluttering as pleasure whipped through you.

Your body trembled. Fire churned in your belly, flaming to your core. Heat lashed, swamping down, as intensity built, tightening in your gut. He had you whimpering through each stroke, pussy fluttering around his fingers.

“Looks like you’re gunna blow.” He chuckled.

Then you did. You exploded, gushing around Ben’s fingers. You cried out his name into the sheets, riding the waves as he stroked you through them.

“Didn’t clock you for a squirter.”

He was observing as you trembled in the aftermath, catching your breath.

His fingers retreated, only to grip your thighs, pulling them apart, leaving a wet, sticky mark on one. Thumbs traced your parted lips. You shook, whining and jerking from his touch. You were much too sensitive.

Your ass stung as a harsh slap landed on your left ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby.”

He rubbed the hot crest of his cock between your parted lips, using your wetness as a lube. Then he pressed the head to your snug pussy entrance.

“Open that pretty little pussy for me.”

Ben nudged forward. Your cunt gripped him, muscles enveloping him, stretching tender tissue for him. He was so fucking wide. Wider than Mark. You shuddered again as pleasure-pain tore through you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could tell he was heavy and thick from the crown alone.

His hand fisted your hair, and pinpricks of pain rained over your skull as he yanked your head up.

“You’ve got a greedy little cunt.”

You whimpered. What could you say to that? Thank you?

Ben’s cock suddenly surged forward, punching through nerve endings, only stopping to a natural rest once his balls smacked against your ass.

You cried out, your muscles clamped, sucking and squeezing as they desperately tried to adapt to his size.

Ben was larger in all ways than anyone you’d ever been with.

He groaned.

“Fucking perfect.”

You weren’t ready, but he didn’t care. His thrusts were powerful, smacking into you with full force, taking the breath from your lungs. The metallic bed frame creaked and banged against the wall with each of Ben’s hard drives. Heat swamped your belly. His strokes were like a constant strike of a match.

You’d never come like this. Never penetratively.

They were hard, brutal pumps. His cock forged forward, bottoming out each and every time.

You moaned loudly, unable to control it, unable to keep it in. You didn’t mind the pain along your scalp, the iron grip he had on your ass cheek, and you even liked the rugged, guttural grunts Ben gave with each thrust. It had your pussy slicking, allowing for his cock to surge forward with even more ease. The sloppy sounds coming from your cunt filled the room, mingled along with sweat and the scent of sex.

This was what it was like to be dicked senseless.

Your college girlfriends had gushed about it. You could never join in; sometimes, it had you green with envy. At times, you resented them. And Mark. Especially Mark. Mark hadn’t cared for your pleasure, only his.

Your cunt clamped down hard. Ben growled. You knew what was about to happen. Heat lashed down your body.

Teeth nipped at your shoulder. Then you were hauled up, his fist still gripping your hair. Your back arched, and with the change of angle, your cunt squeezed, gripping him, as you moaned out. You were more than close. Anything could and would send you over the edge.

“Squirt your pretty little pussy all over my cock. Come on, doll.”

His hand travelled up from your plump ass cheek, fingertips skimming over your moist skin, rudely pushing your bra to cup a plentiful breast. He squeezed and tweaked a nipple.

Intense pleasure shattered through your system, racing across your skin. The strength of your orgasm had you screaming his name, had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and whiting out.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, now, girly.”

You came to, a palm slapping your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered open, and a slight whine escaped your lips as you felt Ben’s cock stroking lazily inside your oversensitive pussy.

“On your elbows.” He commanded, and you did as he asked.

He smacked your thighs with the back of his hand, pushing them further apart.

“Good girl.”

A different type of pleasure rolled through you. You liked it when he praised you. A sense of satisfaction came over you, and you fought the smile on your lips. Which disappeared as soon as Ben pressed a wet thumb into your puckered starfish.

You whined, bucking. You didn’t like that. The harsh sting of a slap settled on your ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby. You’re gettin’ my fingers in your ass.”

Ben refixed one fist in your hair and fucked you slowly as his fingers teased your asshole. He squeezed your globes, occasionally alternating as he slid fingers over your hole.

You whined. The angle of his cock had you chasing a second orgasm faster. His playing sent tingles spreading across your ass, settling into your cunt. Your clit throbbed, wanting that release, but you couldn’t have it. Not yet.

Ben pumped faster, managing to slide a finger into your rectum. The penetration of his finger alone made his cock feel tighter in your pussy. He’d taken up all the remaining space.

Ben stroked until you were a shaky mess, on the brink of another orgasm. You clutched the sheets, desperate for it. Ben added another finger in your ass. That familiar pleasure-pain whipped around like a swirling vortex.

“Please, Ben.” You begged.

You wanted to cum. Oh, my God, it was right there, right on the cusp.

Ben slammed back into you, striking that final match and fucking you into oblivion. You cried out, gushing everywhere.

Ben’s thrusts began to stutter. Both hands gripping your hips, grunting with each effort. He roared out as thick, hot ropes of cum lashed your inner walls. He didn’t stop until he had sunk every last drop within you.

You collapsed onto the mattress when he finally released you. You hoped Ben didn’t want another round. You didn’t think you could go again.

Drowsiness settled quickly, and you couldn’t fight as it took over.

*

It was dark when you awoke. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet except for Ben’s snoring. You were in bed. Ben must have placed you there after passing out. The urge to pee pressed on your bladder. You didn’t want to get out of bed. It was so warm. But needs must.

You slipped out of bed, being careful not to wake Ben. He had left you in your bra and t-shirt, though he hadn’t adjusted your bra back to cover your exposed breast. From the din, you saw the outline of your panties and lounge pants, along with his sweats.

As your eyes adjusted, you spotted your pyjamas from the end of the bed. They were tangled up in the sheets on Ben’s side.

Just great.

You silently headed to the end of the bed and carefully detangled your pyjamas. Ben stirred. You froze. But he snored loudly and rolled over. Relief akin to the incredible orgasm you’d experienced earlier washed through you.

Thank fuck.

You snuck out of your room, picking up your panties along the way, opting out of using the en-suite for fear of waking Ben up. You walk along the hallway, hoping not to get caught by Dean or Beau. You had no idea what the time was.

You made it to the bathroom with no issues. Sitting on the john, relieving yourself, you peered down. Ben’s seed had dried on your thigh. You hadn’t even thought about protection. It hadn’t even occurred to you or Ben in the heat of the moment. You were an adult. It should have.

Idiot.

You could get pregnant.

Shit.

He was a Supe. You were a human. Becca and Ryan came to mind.

Oh God.

What had you done?

You held your head in your hands. Your brain scrambled to remember where you were in your cycle and how long ago it had been since your last period. You’d never been good with remembering. Except the week prior, as your tits would ache like fuck. That’s when you knew you were near.

What if he did? Would you keep it?

Would you? You had no doubt that in your mind, you would. Though with your luck, it probably wouldn’t take.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-spinster-witch, @k-slla, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #spn fanfic #dean winchester #reader insert #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #beau arlen #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #big sky #supernatural fic

[violetthecreator]

All Things End

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, blood and trauma, BG3 spoilers

WC: 500+

A/N: Big Act 3 spoilers in this one for those that haven't finished Astarion's questline!! The Hozier theme continues, titled after All Things End (anyone else been binge listening to Unreal Unearth the last two weeks?🥺)

The torches of Cazador's dungeon cast an eerie glow upon the blood-slicked floor, the distinct, coppery scent lingering in the air, a reminder of the fierce battle that had just taken place. Astarion stands over Cazador's corpse, chest heaving and body aching from the fight, mind whirring as he struggles to comprehend that his former master is truly gone. But his eyes are not fixed on the aftermath of the battle, they're fixed on you.

You lay on the ground, your breathing shallow and your features pale. Astarion feels numb as he rushes to your side, his fingers trembling as he reaches out to touch your cheek, relief flooding his senses as he feels your warmth. "By the gods, you can't leave me like this." his voice laced with an unfamiliar desperation.

He'd always been drawn to you, captivated by your beauty, your spirit, the way you always faced danger head-on. But now, as he watches you so close to slipping away, he realises just how deep his feelings run. The fear of losing you almost paralyses him, igniting a fire within him that he had long denied.

Gently cradling your head in his lap, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering as he traces the curve of your cheek. "I've been a fool," his voice cracking with emotion. "A complete fool to deny what's been in front of me all along."

The torchlight reveals vulnerability in his crimson eyes. He takes a deep breath, his chest tightening as he lets his guard down. "I care for you more than I thought possible," he confesses. "Your strength, your courage, your unwavering belief that I am more than just some wretched spawn.. you've bewitched me in a way I never expected."

He closes his eyes for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "I've spent so long hiding behind my own darkness, using it as an excuse to push others away," he continues, his voice growing stronger. "But you, you've shown me that there's more to life than the shadows. You've given me a reason to fight, a reason to believe I can be so much more than just Cazador's slave."

Astarion leans down, his lips hovering over your forehead, his breath mingling with the cool dungeon air. "I don't want to waste any more time pretending," he whispers, his voice a tender caress. "I love you darling, as much as my undead heart could possibly love someone."

The weight of his confession lifts from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of liberation. The feeling of your limp body in his arms reminds him just how truly fleeting life can be, a feeling that hasn't troubled him for over 200 years. He isn't willing to let his chance at happiness slip through his fingers any longer.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips, as if your unconscious self can sense his words. Astarion presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose. "I'll protect you, no matter what," he vows softly, his voice a promise that echoes through the night as he cradles you closer, cherishing the sound of your gentle heartbeat.

A/N: Okay so the original plan was to kill off the reader but I literally couldn't bear to put Astarion through any more pain 🥺 Any feedback appreciated as usual, thank you for reading 💕

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn!reader #astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers