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peachysunrize · 17 days

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Devil’s Doll ⥃ Mob boss!Aemond

Summary: no one can do anything when Aemond Targaryen sets his eye on a sweet girl and comes to the party with her on his arms, and those who dare to say an ill word will face his wrath with a bullet in their head.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, possessive & obsessive Aemond, mob/mafia au! Murder, creampie, Aemond is a sociopath simp for you, blood & gore, oral (F! Receiving), rough sex, Qoren Martell is an ass here, self defense murder, ztell me if I’ve missed anything. English isn’t my first language so if you’re not okay with that, simply ignore this post. if you don't wanna read dark content, block rue:darkcontent <3

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: babeeees! Hello and welcome back to another unhinged smutty one shot I have written! Hope this satisfies your needs for possessive Aemond🤭 please reblog and comment, it’s most appreciated🩷

A very special thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta-ing this piece!🩷🫂

In the world of crimes, Aemond Targaryen’s name is enough to make men shiver in fear. The ruthless nature of him has been the subject of many late-night stories in the past few years in the filthy streets of King’s Landing and beyond.

The one-eyed prince they call him. The infamous second son of Viserys the Coward has built an empire solely around one thing; blood and vengeance.

After the murder of his fiance at the hands of his uncle, he became an untamed beast, bloodthirsty and hungry for revenge to the point that he became the god in the eyes of many — he wiped the streets off any man from his sister’s clan, ruled on the ashes of their bones and burnt flesh.

He thrived in the newfound power, he cherished it and greedily took more and more until there was nothing left more to take. Aemond Targaryen became the head of his clan with his loyal followers doing anything to please him and keep their heads attached to their necks.

So when he finds a new sweet girl at the local coffee shop he frequents, his emotions begin to cloud his judgment or heighten it in a way.

It starts innocently; a black coffee with dark chocolate on a daily basis, a sweet smile, and ‘Have a nice day, sir!’ Always ready for him.

Sweet girl, he calls you when you bring him his order and brushes his fingers atop yours when you lean down to put his coffee on the table.

He looks, he observes, and he obsesses over your every move, every step you take, every inhale and exhale. He likes watching you.

The ruthless god of the criminal world has set his eye on his new prey.

You notice him, of course you do, because he wants you to know about him, he wants you to be as interested in him as he is in you. He loves how your lips move when you question his motives; sweet girl he calls you again, telling you how beautiful you look when you work and how he desperately wishes he could take you out on a date. But he can’t, not when his enemies are behind the corner, ready to strike where he is weak.

Yes, you are his weakness, and the one-eye god isn’t used to it, but for you… oh for you he would murder, he would let his bloodlust get the best of him and commit a massacre just to see a glimpse of your smile.

He catches you crying in the corner of the cafe, mouth agape as you stare at the man who was supposed to be your date for today, lying limp and lifeless with a bullet in his head.

Sweet girl, he calls you as he brushes your hair out of your face, you look like a doll, his doll, and oh, in the pit of your stomach you feel a strange warmth because of his heated gaze. He is smiling, he shouldn’t but he is, and you smile back, captivated by his nature, by his cruelty and devotion.

It feels like fresh air when you reach out to caress his dimples, how he has dreamed of your soft skin on his. The touch only makes him hungrier, a desire, a need to make you his, and he does that night. He takes you to your small apartment, giving you a pleasure like no other while you cling to him — sweet girl, my doll, he calls you, vowing in his head to protect you, and when he asks you why you do not feel disgusted by what he has done to that man, you reply:

“I’m sick of heroes. They ruin their loved ones to keep others safe. But a villain, my devil, you, will burn the city without letting a flame touch my skin.”

He is like your shadow from that day; following you around in the dark without you noticing, keeping his business up while he focuses on you. Sweet girl, he thinks, how you smile at those unworthy people, your smile should be his and his only.

The news spreads like fire; Aemond Targaryen has found a new plaything. As soon as those words fall from one of his men, others gasp and shriek, staring at the poor man’s head that has a hole carved with Aemond’s bullet.

Plaything they say, he scoffs at the thought. You are no plaything for him, you are his sun, his moon, the air to his lungs, you are fuel for his soul, and he wishes he could burn under you to show you how much you mean to him, to crumble into pieces and let you stomp over him while he basks in the glow of your face.

You are his doll, The Devil’s doll.

He knows how dangerous his world is, he understands it perfectly, and that’s why he nearly loses himself when he finds the door to your apartment ajar with muddy footprints leading to your bedroom.

He sees red when the scent of iron hits his nose; blood, he thinks. What has happened to you? He has never felt such a strong emotion before, not for his fiance or even his sister. Now, he is shaking with fury, his knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the gun.

You leap into his arm as soon as you spot him in the doorway, letting the knife fall from your hands while you push yourself to him, clutching his shoulders while you sob.

He sighs in relief, holding you in his arms tighter than he has ever done before. You’re alright, his sweet girl, his doll. He listens to you intently, wiping off the tears that fall from your gorgeous eyes gently, oh you look just like a dream come true; your dress is covered in blood, a man you killed for defense lying on the floor beneath his boot.

He has never been more proud of anyone than he is of you.

He wants to show you off to the world, sick of all the hiding and lies behind the rumors spread by Rhaenyra’s clan. He needs to let everyone know how beautiful his doll is, and what a goddess he has in his arms.

He helps you get ready, keeping his hands all over your body while you try to put some clothes on, giggling and indulging him as he kisses your bare shoulders, groaning at the sight of you in black and red.

“Sweet girl, I have to be the luckiest man alive to have you as mine.” He whispers in your ear, eye narrow as he takes you in again, thinking about how he could be graced by your presence.

“And I the luckiest girl, my love. You make me feel so happy,” you reply, spraying your perfume on your neck and collarbones, and Aemond nearly moans as he takes your scent in.

“Fuck, you have to be a sorceress, I am bewitched by your beauty and smile. What have you done to me, doll? What spell have you put me under?” He attacks your neck with kisses, relishing in the small giggle you gift him.

“I’ve poured a potion in your coffee every day, to make sure your eye only sees me and no other girl.” You joke, turning around in his arms to give him a soft peck on the lips, mindful of your lipstick to leave no trace on his clean-shaven face.

“Don’t give me ideas, doll. I might do it just to keep you all to myself.” He grins, his dimples on display for you to kiss them, chuckling as you try to wipe the red stains off his face.

“Oh, I would love that. Please do, my love,” you match his smile, lopping your arms around his neck, “now, let’s go to this party. The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave and have our fun.”

“Anything for you, sweet girl.” He says, offering you his arm as you both walk towards the door, Aemond helping you down while you hold the long skirt of your dress in your hand, taking cautious steps to the car.

Criston nods at both of you and opens the door, waiting until the two of you are settled inside the car before he gets in himself and starts driving to the location.

Aemond was reluctant to attend this party, after all, it was hosted by one of the clans that were loyal to his sister, but his grandfather convinced him to go with Aegon and Daeron, but he declined and said he’d rather go alone with his doll.

You smile at him, caressing his ring-clattered fingers that are caressing your thigh gently, talking with Cole about what is expected of tonight; murder for sure, but he would rather not get caught up in the whirlwind of hatred he has for his sister and uncle, and most importantly, he needs to keep you safe from all the eyes of those hungry men.

The ride to the mansion is quick, and a sense of dread fills the two of you when your eyes meet. Aemond presses a kiss to your forehead to both calm himself and you before the car comes to a stop and he steps out, coming to your side and holding your hand to help you on your feet.

The moment you step inside the house, you are greeted by various couples, men, women, and people that you have no idea about. You keep your head high, squeezing Aemond’s arm as the two of you hide your discomfort behind a smile while everyone keeps staring at you.

“Targaryen,” someone calls Aemond behind you, “you honored me with coming tonight!” You both turn around, finding Mr. Tyrell and his wife and oldest daughter waiting to greet you.

“The honor is mine, sir,” Aemond shakes his hand, reaching to press a kiss to Mrs. Tyrell’s hand, “thank you for having us tonight. Let me introduce you to my girl,” he puts his large palm on your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you shake and greet your hosts.

“You certainly have won yourself a prize, Aemond.”

“No prize is as beautiful as she is, I’m afraid.” Your lover says, pinching your waist playfully away from the eyes of the attendees, looking at you with nothing but adoration and unconditional devotion.

“You’re too kind, my love,” you smile, “Lady Tyrell, I would love to get to know you more.” Aemond nods at you gratefully, glad that he has discussed his plans for the party with you.

Aemond watches you being led away by the ladies, letting the smile fall from his lips as he gazes back at Tyrell himself, “I hope you have good reasons for wasting my time here.”

“I do, Mr. Targaryen. I wish to introduce you to Prince Martell from Dorne.” Tyrell says, pointing at a group of men who’re talking intensely. As soon as the two of them approach the group, they grow silent, waiting for Aemond to say something — their silence could be because of two things, either they respect him, or they’re terrified of him.

He hoped it was the latter, for with fear there comes blind respect and loyalty.

“Ah, Targaryen,” Prince Qoren Martell says, reaching to shake Aemond’s hand, “how wonderful to finally meet the One-Eyed God of the underground. Made yourself quite the name, huh?” Qoren smirks, already sensing how his words irritate Aemond.

Aemond shakes his hand back, tightening the hold he has on him, a ghost of a sinister smile forms on his face while he stares at the Dornish man with his indigo eye.

“Can’t say the same about you, Prince Qoren. What have you been doing all this time, not ruining the South, I hope?”

“You’re funny,” Qoren laughs, tapping Aemond on the shoulder, “Ah, I missed someone who’d challenged me over stupid things, kind of feels good to have a kid like you around.”

“Mind your words, Martell. He is no ordinary man, these silly little challenges will be the least of your concerns if he decides you’re not worth his time.” Barros Baratheon, ever the loyal dog of Aemond, speaks up, standing tall and proud next to him.

“Pft, please, I’m sure he knows I’m joking!” Qoren laughs nervously this time, “but… I don’t think your man isn’t doing great nowadays huh?”

“What do you mean?” Aemond asks, slapping Qoren’s hand away, “I wonder what has been said that makes you so full of yourself.”

“I don’t need to say a thing, look, your pretty plaything is coming,” Martell smirks as he eyes you up, watching the sway of your hips as you walk shyly towards Aemond, feeling a bit out of place due to all the looks on you.

“Eyes on me, Martell,” Aemond says through gritted teeth, anger swimming in his good eye as he watches the Dornish man look at you intently.

“Aemond…” he turns around at the sound of your voice, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Sweet girl—“

“Ah, it’s truly a shame that a beautiful girl like you wouldn’t reach anywhere with being a side chick for a Targaryen.” A deadly silence falls on the group, Aemond with his ever-rising temper looks at Qoren who hasn’t realized what he has truly said.

“Elaborate, Martell.” He hisses, reaching to pull you closer to him, covering your body mostly with his.

“You need a lady sooner or later, I doubt a woman from her status would be a good choice of a wife for you. You need someone stronger, with more connections, and a mind as sharp as you, not just a pretty whore to keep your bed warm,” Qoren shrugs, and a few men from his side laugh and agree with him.

Aemond presses his lips into a thin line, his fingers twitching in anger as he gazes at Qoren; he looks murderous, ready to pull his gun out and empty a bullet in that useless head of his — but he’s stopped by the sound of your sniffing.

He looks at you, his features softening immediately when he sees your teary eyes. He feels as if he’s about to die with a dagger in his good eye; the look on your face hurts him, burns his heart, and tears it into pieces. The string you’ve wrapped around him tightens and tightens until he cradles your smaller face in his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to your quivering lips before his eye turn black with madness.

He pushes you behind him, and in a second, the hall is filled with screams and shrieks of horror and bullets flying around, bodies of the men who dared to disrespect Aemond’s doll are falling on the floor next to his shoes one by one.

He feels you bury your head in his blazer, gasping at the sound of yet another bullet firing into someone’s head. Aemond doesn’t blink, not even once. His blood is pumping with the urge to showcase how much he’s willing to do to keep his sweet girl happy and content.

“Let this be a reminder to all of you,” his voice echoes in the hall, “whoever dares to say anything about my girl will face the same fate; death! Aemond Targaryen will go to a fucking war for his future wife!” With that, he holds his gun upwards to the ceiling, firing not one, not two, but nearly six bullets to make sure the hall is empty besides the corpses and the two of you.

“Aemond…”

“Shh,” he shushes you roughly, pressing his lips into a searing kiss to yours, groaning at the sweet taste of your lips. He adores losing himself in you; in your taste, in your scent, in every ounce of attention you give him. He feels blessed to even breathe the same air as you, but kissing you… his heart stops every time his lips meet yours, and now, with adrenaline and anger swirling in his veins, he wants nothing but to show you his devotion — even if it comes out as a rough fucking session while staring at the men he killed for you.

His trimmed nails dig into your sides, groaning at the feeling of you melting beneath his rough touch. Aemond is a man possessed with how he handles you, strong and confident while he finds the closest table and finally breaks the kiss.

He watches how your chest heaves with ragged breaths, lips swollen, and eyes wide and hazy with lust — the perfect picture of a goddess that he has been graced with.

He turns you around, pushing you on the table until you’re bending over, looking directly at the limp bodies on the floor drowning in their own blood. He hums as his fingers caress your spine before he strikes you on your ass, humming at the feeling of the weight of your flesh under his hand.

He doesn’t have the will to wait anymore. He drops on his knees, pushing your dress up to your hips until he’s face to face with your bare pussy; wet and ready to be devoured.

“Good girl,” he praises you for listening to him when he asked you earlier to not wear any underwear, “The most gorgeous cunt I’ve ever seen, prettiest girl, my doll.” He’s already drunk on your essence without even tasting it, that’s how much he adores you.

He moans at the same time as you do when he finally dives in, wrapping his thin lips around your buzzing clit as he devours and eats like a starved dog, caging your hips while he takes and takes and takes from you.

There’s not a thought in his head, empty and filled with nothing but an urge to show you how eager he is to please and protect you, your loyal dog he calls himself.

The One-Eyed God crumbles for a simple barista girl, and not a single soul dares to say a word, for if they say, they’ll experience his rage.

Aemond is quick and messy with how his tongue laps up your wetness, creating lewd sounds that have both of your hearts racing. His fingers join his tongue, filling you up slightly and giving you the friction you need, but you know him, the only way you can come is on his cock.

You whine in agony as he leaves you aching for more as soon as he feels you getting closer, but he doesn’t leave you waiting for too long. The sound of his zipper brings back your attention to him, and he chuckles in delight when he sees you wiggling yourself back to get some friction, to end this torture and gives into the temptation.

And he does; he aligns his painfully hard cock with your soaked entrance, pushing himself in with one smooth thrust that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Long is gone the man he was a few seconds ago; he is on a mission now, fucking you until you tremble and fall from the edge of bliss, knowing it’s him pleasuring you, it’s him who will burn this blasted city for you.

“Oh, sweet girl, I’ll kill thousands of men if it means I get to be inside this sweet pussy—fuck-“ he groans, hands finding home on your hipbones as he quickens his pace, driving his cock in and out. Hard and fast.

The squelching sound that your wetness is making embarrasses you, and you hide your face in your arms while you squeal his name over and over again.

Your Devil has grown like ivy around your heart, covering the last untouched part of your souls that he had left untouched, and you love it, love being consumed by him.

He bends down over your back, hips snapping into yours roughly, filling you up with his length as the thick tip of him kisses your cervix while his teeth sink into your bare shoulder.

“Do you see the lengths I would go to protect you, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear, licking your tear away with the tip of his tongue, “I will commit unspeakable crimes just to have you by my side.”

You nod at him, looping your arm around his neck to bring him down, and he compiles, bending further on your back to kiss you roughly.

Both of you are close; the knot in your stomach gets unbearable until it snaps and you moan loudly in his mouth, gushing around him as your legs shake.

He follows closely; his cock throbs deep within your core, and with one final rough thrust, he empties his balls inside you, coating your velvety walls with his thick cum, marking you as his once more.

You glance back at the corpses, smiling devilishly at how Qoren Martell’s empty eyes are still on you.

“Sweet girl,” Aemond says, “you’re untouchable now. Targaryen clan is yours to rule.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #modern aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #rue:smut #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond smut #rue:darkcontent

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kamiversee · 2 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 26 || The Change of Events (Continued)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & beautifully filthy smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T have to tell you twice. You chuckled and happily made your way into the passenger seat of the car after Toji told you he was going to drive further away from the nearby party.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see what the two of you were about to do.

You didn't even bother to put a seatbelt on as he drove, your eyes all over the man and admiring how stupidly sexy he was. Toji's eyes are low as he drives down a few streets, making a couple of turns before he gets to a house and goes to back the car in.

For a moment you were confused but when the garage to said house began to open, you realized it was his house he'd taken you to. This surprised you because it meant that Toji only lives a few streetways away from Sukuna.

As he backed his car in, his arm was stretched over to the back of your seat and you just drank in the large muscles visibly against his shirt.

"I didn't know you lived this close to campus, Mr. Fushiguro," You comment casually, having remembered that school was roughly a fifteen-minute drive from this neighborhood.

The area Sukuna lived in versus the area Toji lived in was drastically different, that fact was noticeable based on the kinds of houses on each street.

"Well," He sighs as the car comes to a stop, "You know now."

"Y'know you never answered me when I asked why you were out by yourself and near a college party..." You point out.

"Was' lookin' for my son. He has a friend who lives there," Toji explains.

You tilt your head curiously, "How old is he?"

"Uhhhh..." Toji takes a long moment to recall, "Twelve... I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah, he's twelve." The man confirms, sounding more like he was confirming it to himself.

You nod, "Right... Well, he wasn't there so, where is he?"

"Another friend's house apparently." Toji hums, "Lil' shit didn't tell me anything and just took his bike there."

You chuckle, "Ohhh I see..."

"Anyways," Toji moves to shut the garage door with the same button in his car that he used to open it and then he turns the car headlights off, looking over to you, "Do you wanna go inside or-,"

He stops as he watches you start pulling your hair back out of the way and shifting in your seat. It was sexy the way you shifted so that your knees were in the seat and so that you could turn to face Toji. His eyes widen as you comfort yourself and then lean over the console in between his seat and yours.

"Guess that answers my question..." Toji chuckles slightly, moving to slide his seat back and reclining the upper half ever so slightly to give you space.

Those large thighs of his that you once rode on, part and his hips roll up slightly as he adjusts himself in his seat. Your hands move for his belt, working the item off him with his eyes on you the entire time.

As you do that and then begin to undo his pants, Toji glances over at how your back is arched and how your ass is sticking up, the sight making his dick twitch. Your small fingers are felt brushing over his member while you work his pants out of the way.

Toji bites his lip and returns his gaze down to you. He watches the way your hands tug his boxers down and he lets out a deep and low groan as you pull his cock out.

Your eyes go wide at the sight and your mouth salivates. Again, the urge to suck dick is running strongly through you right now and your body is tingling in arousal.

Okay, you knew Toji had a big dick and you obviously remember the way it felt inside your cunt but good lord when it's right in front of your face it's almost intimidating. Toji's cock is so veiny and fucking thick. You don't know if you should be scared or aroused right now-- maybe both. Maybe scaroused.

That's not a real word but it defines how you feel right now anyway.

You can see the beads of white precum oozing out his tip and sliding down the length of his cock. The sight alone is stimulating, making your pussy clench around absolutely nothing. The fact that this thing had once been inside you is absolutely crazy.

Water wells up in your mouth and you start by simply letting a gallop of spit drip out of your mouth and down to Toji's cock. You watch the way his member twitches at the contact.

Toji tips his head back a little and gets comfortable in his seat, his breathing growing noticeably louder and even a bit heavier before a low hum is heard vibrating against his throat.

Your hand moves to his cock and you start out simple, spreading both your spit and his precum all over his length as you stroke him. Toji's brows are quick to tense up and he grits his teeth at the feeling of your soft and warm hand running up and down his dick.

Your hand jerks him off steadily as you mentally prepare yourself to take him into your mouth. You give his shaft a squeeze and hear a suppressed grunt come from him. The sound of him trying to hold it in makes you smile.

You lean your head down to his tip but angle yourself so that you can look into his eyes as you kiss it. Toji's seat was leaning decently far back so it wasn't too difficult to meet his eyes.

He was gritting his teeth already and breathing through his nose heavily. Toji watches the way your tongue sticks out your mouth and swirls around the entirety of his tip, the sensation making his brows furrow in pleasure for a moment.

"Shit." He curses quietly.

You then go from licking to wrapping your lips around his tip, lazily sucking on it, and getting your tongue used to having him against you. Toji's above you repressing every sound to the best of his ability but when you move to use two hands instead of one, he struggles to contain his groans.

Both sets of fingers curl around his cock and you focus your mouth on his tip, no longer looking at his face and directing your attention to your actions.

"Fuuck." Toji groans deeply, his low voice filling your ears and making your cunt throb.

An idea spurs into your brain and you tip your head to the side again, meeting his eyes for a moment before you pull your mouth off his dick. Your tongue sticks back out and you make him watch the way your wet pink muscle slides in between the slit of his cockhead, gathering what's left of precum onto your tongue.

You then bring yourself up just a little and swallow it down, "Mr. Fushiguro..."

"H-Hmm?" He hums in response.

"Am I..." You go back to using only one hand to jerk him off, "Am I doing this right?"

You know damn well you're doing everything right but something made you want to tease him. Toji scoffs, "Doin' jus' fine, doll. Keep goin'."

You grin and plant another kiss on his tip. Then, you tilt your head and trail kisses down his length up until you get to the base, to which you then stick your tongue out and drag it all the way back up.

Toji bites his lower lip and instinctively moves a hand to the top of your head, casually urging your lips back over his tip and clearly ready for you to take him into your mouth. Your teasing licks were driving him insane so he worked his large hand through your hair and gripped it lightly.

As he did so, you finally took him into your mouth. Toji tosses his head back immediately, "Aagh, fuck... that's it, atta' girl..." He encourages, words going straight to your sex.

The second he began entering your mouth, you grew eager to stuff your throat with as much of him as you could, regardless of whether or not you'd gag and or possibly choke. You removed your hand from him and used only your mouth, taking as much of his inches as you could.

"God damn-," Toji grunts, his eyes flickering to the wet warmth of your mouth. His head rolls back into place and he watches as you start bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

His breathing stutters while he watches you, seeing how his dick disappears into your mouth and feeling your soft hums vibrate against him. Toji's hips unconsciously jolted upward into your mouth, forcing his cock a bit deeper.

You gag only a little, the sound of it echoing throughout his car. A little whine follows your gag, making Toji smirk.

The hand on top of your head pushes you down and he does it again, jerking his hips up and this time causing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat, "You wanted' to suck me off so bad..." He hums, "At least go all the way down. Take every inch..." Toji groans a little after his last statement.

He was challenging you and you were far too horny to allow him to test you. So, you moved to put your hand over his and urge him to force your face even further down.

He chuckles, "Damn whore..." Toji then feels the way you swallow around him and try to contain your gagging.

His hand gripped onto a chunk of your hair and he began moving you up and down his cock, forcing you to suck him properly and using your mouth like a fucking cock sleeve. You quickly start to moan around his shaft as he manhandles you, feeling your pussy leak with arousal.

Toji shoved your head down and thrust up a bit harder than he meant to, his tip knocking into the back of your throat and making you choke. The sensation goes straight to his balls, making his jaw drop a little.

"Such a greedy slut-, a-aagh... fuuuck..." Toji moans, his head going back once more.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head a bit every time your lips reach the base of his cock, sloppy gagging and choking noises filling the entirety of his car as he continues to push and pull your mouth up and down his length.

Toji can feel his abs clenching every time your throat tightens around him, hearing your poor little moans and feeling how they vibrate against him, "Doin' so good... oh shiit... fuckin' throat feels so good around my cock."

"Mmmgh..." You moaned against him, leading Toji to flash a lustful smile.

Your gaze was growing hazy as water glossed over them. He was being so aggressive and you loved it. The stimulation you got from feeling his girth ram up into your mouth was like no other.

For a moment, Toji relaxes his hips from thrusting up into your mouth and focuses on bobbing your head down on him. You suck him eagerly and even continue as his hand suddenly moves away from you.

You begin to twist your head a bit as you throat his length, saliva escaping out the corners of your mouth and filthy dick-sucking noises filling the air.

Abruptly, you feel a large hand come down on your ass and you pull your mouth off his dick with a pop. The sound of the smack is loud within the vehicle.

Toji grabs the fat of your ass, toying with it in his hands before moving to tug your dress up. The fabric bundles up around your waist, revealing coordinating lace panties beneath.

Toji bites his lip at the sight before looking down at you, panting and trying to catch your breath. "Why'd you stop?" He questions, giving your ass another smack.

Your body jumps a little at the contact and you grin, "N-Needed to b-breathe..." You huff out.

His palm rubs over the area of your ass he just slapped and he gives you another squeeze, "Keep goin'." Toji says.

You suck in one last deep breath of air before sinking your head back down. His cock enters your mouth again and he hums approvingly. You went back to bobbing your head up and down his length until two fingers suddenly pressed against your underwear, feeling along your slick cunt through the fabric.

You gag on Toji and he groans, "Aagh... take it jus' like that, take my fuckin' cock," He encourages, feeling the way your cunt twitches against his fingers. He smiles, "Y'like when I talk to you, huh?"

"M-Mhmmm..." You hum as best as you can in response.

Toji's fingers rub a slow circle over your sex, feeling your wetness coat his digits even through the fabric of your panties. He scoffs, "You got this wet from suckin' me off? F-Fuck..."

As best as you can, you wiggle your hips into his touch, trying to give your cunt more friction against his fingers. The sensation makes you dizzy with satisfaction, nearly on the verge of an orgasm due to all the buildup from this night.

When you pull up, you decide to suck him all the way in as you go down again, inhaling in a deep breath and opening up the back of your throat before sliding back down. Toji moans filthy as you suddenly deepthroat his cock, his free hand moving to the top of your head.

He applies light pressure, enough to keep you still, "S-Stay like that for a sec'.... F-Fuck..." Toji moans again, the sound a bit more pitched and airy than he liked.

Your throat is being stretched by his thick cock and water is spilling from the corners of your eyes and drool is leaking down to your chin. As you hold yourself there for as long as you can, you feel Toji's fingers move your underwear to the side and then suddenly thrust two of his fingers in.

You choke around his dick, the sensation making him groan loudly before your head flies up off him. Spit and tears run down your face as you start coughing a bit, Toji's fingers thrusting knuckle deep into you.

"Oh fuck-," You gasp, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. To finally get some kind of relief after what felt like hours was so satisfying.

Unlike your first time with him, you managed not to cum after one thrust. But, there was so much moisture coming from your pussy that you could feel it slipping down in between your thighs.

Toji smirks, "Feels good, huh?"

You nod so desperately, pushing your hips back to match the thrusting of his fingers, "S-So good... nngh... fuck..."

His fingers curl against your slick walls and you moan right before lowering your head again. Toji grunts as he feels you start sucking his dick again.

He turns to look at the way you're backing your hips into his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. "Pussy was back here droolin' for some attention..." Toji comments as he massages your walls just right.

Your cunt clamps around his fingers in reaction to his lewd words and you can feel the knot in your core building up.

He glances down at how eagerly your mouth is working against him, feeling your tongue swirl around his length, "M'gonna cum soon..." He sighs, seeing your spit has completely smothered every inch of his cock.

His warning fuels you to continue, sucking him harder into your mouth and rubbing your tongue over each and every vein as if to later be able to remember the feeling. Toji releases a guttural groan when you focus on the veins of his cock, his legs starting to shift around as he grows close.

"Fuu-uck," He stammers, "...Gonna' cum down y-your throat, pretty girl," Toji warns for a second time.

He then adds a third finger inside you and you spasm, moaning and whining against his cock as you both feel pleasure evenly. Your legs threaten to close as his three large fingers skillfully work your insides.

Toji shakes his head, "Keep 'em open." He directs.

"Mmh... mmgh..." You moan again, trying your best to do as he says.

"That's it, good fuckin' girl," Toji praises, instantly feeling how tight both your cunt and throat squeeze around him.

Your eyes roll back and you deepthroat his cock one more time with a loud moan whilst releasing all over his fingers. The wet squelching of him stroking you through your orgasm can be heard and Toji wasn't too far behind you.

You start licking at him while he rests deep inside your throat, earning a low moan from him and his hand gripping your hair. Toji lifts you about halfway up off his cock before he starts thrusting up into your mouth.

As he does so, you quickly feel the way he starts cumming in your mouth with a loud groan.

"F-Fuuuuck..." When you start gulping it down as best as you can, Toji's eyes roll back a little, "Just... like... that-, swallow it all-, fuck..." He moans, his words coming out in between his thrusts.

You do just that up until he's done, feeling as his thrusts slow down and there's nothing left for you to gulp down. Toji pulls your head off his member completely, lifting it so that he can get a good look at your face.

"Show me," He instructs.

You stick your tongue out with a little ahh sound following, earning a proud smile from him.

"Good girllll," Toji praises yet again, his words causing you to flash a fucked out smile.

His fingers that were lodged inside you carefully slip out and he brings them to his mouth, making you watch as he sucks the taste off.

"Mmh." He hums, almost surprised, "Tastes' sweet."

You giggle softly in response before carefully moving back to your seat.

You both separately fix yourselves up and Toji offers you some wipes he had in his car so that you can clean your face and legs off.

When you're done, you meet his gaze and he smiles, "Think your legs will give out like last time?"

You roll your eyes, "Who knows..."

The two of you share a laugh and your night comes to a simple end just like that.

So many things felt like it had happened but even so, you had to mentally prepare yourself for the following day.

You were to meet Nanami Kento.

Who knows how that'll play out?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨��

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

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little-diable · 4 months

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Darling oh Darling - Cowboy!Jasper Hale (smut)

Yes, I'm in a cowboy mood alright, y'all just have to endure it for a while. But I have to say, I truly love how this turned out, so I think y'all will be able to forgive me for this current fixation. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works at Carlisle Cullen's ranch, where she crosses paths with one of his sons, a guy who instantly catches her interest.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), quite fluffy, yet filthy

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.8k words)

“You alright there, darlin’?” The man’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering up to meet his golden ones. Jasper Hale, son of the owner on whose ranch (y/n) was currently working. She hadn’t crossed paths with Jasper yet, had only studied him from a safe distance, feeling an ever-growing respect for the man who handled horses better than anybody else she knew.

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know how I got them all tangled up.” Her eyes wandered back down to the reins she held, trying to untangle them. His chuckles left her smiling, growing stiff as his cold hand found hers, gently pulling the reins from her grasp. Within seconds Jasper had them untangled, smirking in victory. “How did you do that?”

“Just takes lots of practice, but don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it eventually. (Y/n), is it?” Jasper took off his cowboy hat, combing through his golden locks before he placed the hat back on his head, leaning against the stable door. (Y/n) could only hum, eyes momentarily wandering up and down his frame, trying not to pay the way his clothes fit him all too perfectly any attention, muscles bulging beneath the fabrics. “It’s good to have a face to that name finally, my dad seems to have a soft spot for you.”

“Carlisle’s great, I’m very thankful for everything he’s done for me.” Carlisle and (y/n) had crossed paths at the hospital, sharing details about one another as he had taken a look at her gaping wound. And within a few minutes, she had left his room with a job offer, debating working at his ranch for the summer. Carlisle had given her the ticket out of a toxic household, allowing her to figure out where she truly belonged, and what she wanted to do with the rest of her life – and what better place for a time away from home than a ranch filled with kind people.

“Well, we’re very happy about having a new helping hand around, especially one that’s this pretty to look at.” If she had been drinking something, (y/n) probably would have choked on her sip, eyes growing wide at the comment that had just rolled off Jasper’s tongue. She struggled to come up with a reply, not used to hearing words like these from a man who looked as handsome as Jasper, but she was saved by the call of his name, forcing him away from her with a quiet “See you around, darlin’” leaving him.

……

“(Y/n)!” Her head whipped towards the meadow, squinting her eyes to look at Jasper, blinded by the bright sun. “Come on over here, darlin’.”

She walked through the high grass, grinning at the guys who were standing close to Jasper, holding onto their horses’ reins. With her hands placed on her waist, she came to a halt close to the grinning man who had called for her, waiting for him to keep on speaking, wondering why he had called her over in the first place.

“We’re about to go for a ride, Emmett’s desperate for some adventure.” Her eyes found the golden ones of Jasper’s brother, shooting Emmett a quick smile before her gaze flickered back to the brother she found herself drawn to. “You wanna join us?”

“Well, I have no horse.” Jasper’s soft chuckles left her heart skipping beats, trying not to spare the anticipation bubbling inside of her much thought as he reached his hand out for her to take. His cold touch was happily welcomed, biting down her relieved groan at the coldness momentarily distracting her from the heat of the sun.

“You can ride with me, but I can’t promise we’ll go slow.” She stared up at him with a challenging grin tugging on her lips, slowly shaking her head as she let go of his hand, swinging herself up onto his horse.

“Don’t worry, I’m not one for taking things slowly.” The other guys shared her chuckles, grinning at the two as Jasper saddled up behind (y/n), wrapping an arm around her waist to press her against his chest.

“Good, we like a good challenge around here, darlin’.” With his heel pressed into his horse’s side, they started riding, chasing after the other guys who had already started riding away from the ranch, through the high grass. (Y/n) tried not to focus on the feeling of Jasper’s muscular front pressing against her back, tried not to focus on the feeling of his middle meeting her behind with every fast trod, unable to focus on the beautiful nature they were racing through.

Her heart was pounding, fuelled by excitement, finally able to feel that carefree sensation she had been hungry for. She hadn’t felt like this in years, able to let go of her worries, to enjoy the company of people who made her feel safe, people who seemed to genuinely enjoy having her around.

“You alright, feeling comfortable?” Jasper rasped his words, breath clashing against her neck as he spoke to her, accent growing thicker with every syllable rolling off his tongue. (Y/n) could only hum, leaning further into his grasp, not wanting to escape this closeness anytime soon. She tried not to overthink it, tried not to analyse the way he behaved around her, but yet (y/n) couldn’t help but hope he felt that same pull in his chest, wanting to feel her even closer, even more intimately.

……

The sound of the crackling wood left her smiling, sinking further into the chair she was sitting on, wrapped up in a warm blanket. They had returned from their ride a few hours ago, splitting up to go shower, feed their horses and finish their jobs for the day before they met here, at the bonfire.

One of the guys had brought his guitar, singing some songs for the group as they enjoyed their beer, whisky, and the company of one another. Jasper was sitting next to her, wearing a big dark jacket that almost swallowed his whole upper body, paired with his dark hat that perfectly sat atop his golden locks. She could watch the reflection of the dancing fire in his pupils, admiring the way his eyes seemed to change colour now and then.

“Thank you for taking me with you today.” (Y/n) murmured the words towards Jasper, smiling at the man who turned his head towards her, no longer focusing on his brothers. He matched his smile, hand reaching out to grasp hers for a moment, squeezing her fingers. The touch almost left her gasping, still not used to feeling this breathless around Jasper.

“Of course, thank you for joining us, darlin’. I enjoy having you around.” For a second she could watch his gaze flicker from her eyes to her lips, a second that was over way too soon, wondering if she had only imagined it. Did he feel the same excitement she did? Did he feel the same pull inside his chest? “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I never saw a sky this starry anywhere else.”

He had his gaze now focused on the sky, hand still holding onto hers. (Y/n) allowed herself to study Jasper for another second before she followed his gaze, admiring the stars twinkling for them. The sight had something so calming to it that (y/n) feared she’d never be able to rip her eyes away. Her heart began to slow its beat, distracted by the view she was now focusing on, slowly adjusting to feeling Jasper this close.

“It is, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” Her whispers made him chuckle, tightening his grip on her as he felt her shudder. She felt him growing tense for just a moment, debating his next move before he murmured her name, forcing her to look at him.

“C’mon, move over. Carlisle would kill me if I’d let you freeze.” Heat flushed through her as she slowly rose to her feet, chuckling in surprise as Jasper pulled her into his lap, arms wrapped around her. With her face nuzzled into his neck, high on the musky scent of his cologne, she tried to focus on the warmth his big jacket emanated, distracting her from the cool touch of his.

“Thank you.” The words were murmured against his skin, barely audible, yet Jasper picked up on them all too easily. He rested his chin on her head, grinning at his brothers who raised their eyebrows at him, smirking at Jasper. From the first moment he had spoken to (y/n), Jasper had known that she was destined to be his, belonging to the man who had yet to share the family secret with her, hoping that she wouldn’t run from him and the life he could offer her.

“Tired?” Jasper felt her growing relaxed in his touch, breaths growing softer. A hum left (y/n), eyes no longer open, clinging to the comfort his closeness offered, luring her further into sleep’s trap. Before she could even realise what he was doing, Jasper rose to his feet, arms tightly wrapped around her to carry (y/n) towards the house. She was too tired to protest, allowing Jasper to step into the room she was staying in, placing her down on her bed.

“Will you stay?”

……

A groan ripped through (y/n) as her eyes fluttered open. It took her eyes a second to focus, breath hitching in her chest. Jasper was lying next to her, one arm wrapped around (y/n)’s waist, the other placed behind his head. His chest was bare – just the sight shot shudders down her spine, slowly remembering how she had asked him to stay.

“Morning, darlin’.” His golden eyes met hers, grinning at the way she clearly struggled to speak up, tongue running along her lower lip, heavily swallowing before she murmured a soft “Morning”. Jasper’s chuckles vibrated through his body, he tightened his grip on her, allowing his free hand to cup her cheek, “Now, don’t grow all shy on me.”

“Sorry.” (Y/n) didn’t know what to say, not daring to look away as she felt his thumb on her lip, softly stroking her skin. The touch left her shuddering, silently praying that he’d close the gap between them. And with a smile tugging on Jasper’s lips, he seemed to answer her prayer, softly kissing her, giving (y/n) a chance to pull away before he’d deepen the kiss.

But she kept close, hands getting tangled in his locks, gasping against his mouth as he shifted them around, hovering over her. His tongue found hers as his hands disappeared beneath her shirt, exploring her soft skin, momentarily freezing before he found her breasts. He pulled away from her, leaving (y/n) whimpering at the sudden loss, “Tell me if you want me to stop, don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, darlin’.”

“Touch me, Jasper, fuck, been thinking of this for way too long.” The words she spoke left Jasper groaning, lips finding hers again as his hands cupped her breasts, tugging on her hardening nipples. He shifted around, and pressed his knee against her clothed heat, giving her just enough friction to coax a moan out of her, begging him for more.

“Been thinking of this too, fucked my hand to the thought of you every single morning these past days.” Jasper’s raspy voice made her drip, grinding her core against his thigh in a desperate need for more friction, needing to feel his fingers closer to her cunt. “Such an eager girl, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

With the fabric of her shirt pushed up to her chest, Jasper kissed his way down her stomach, moving further down the mattress to rest between (y/n)'s thighs, slowly pulling her damp panties down her legs. He looked at her with lust laced in his gaze, eyes darker than ever before, forcing her blood to sing in her ears at the mere sight of Jasper.

His warm breath clashed against her cunt, eyes meeting hers as he sucked on her pulsing bundle, tongue brushing through her arousal-covered folds for a first taste. Jasper had his arms wrapped around her legs to keep her close, not daring to give (y/n) a chance to move away just yet, set on pushing her over the edge with his tongue before he’ll fuck her.

“I can’t wait to feel you clenching my cock, already so tight around my fingers.” Jasper’s words left (y/n) moaning in excitement, arching her back off the mattress at the feeling of his fingers fucking her, nudging her swollen spot. “Talk to me darlin’, tell me what you need.”

“Just you, fuck, just need you, your fingers, your cock, everything.” The devilish grin Jasper shot her left (y/n) breathless, tightening her grip on her covers as his mouth found its way back to clit. He heard her breaths growing shallow, walls fluttering around his fingers, about to cum with his name rolling off her tongue.

The view had something awfully obscene to it, with him resting between her quivering thighs, pupils fully dark, mouth pressed against her cunt. She was dripping for him, making a mess on the covers, on his mouth that devoured her as if she was his last meal. Without another warning, (y/n) felt her orgasm rocking through her, more violently than any other had ever taken over her system, close to passing out. Heavy pants left her, ripping through her as the sensation kept clinging to her, only allowing her to rest as he slowly pulled away from her.

“Heaven, you’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’, I’ve never seen something this pretty. I can’t wait to ruin you with my cock.” He pressed a kiss to her swollen lips, chuckling at the excited whimper ripping through (y/n). She tried to wrap her aching thighs around his waist, keeping him close as Jasper shuffled out of his underwear, exposing his twitching cock to her wide eyes.

“Want to feel all of you, I‘m on the pill, just take me bare, please.” Jasper didn’t comment on the way he didn’t need to use a condom anyways, grinning down at her as he spat into his palm, lubing his aching cock. Their eyes held contact as he pushed into her, groaning loudly at the feeling of her tight walls clenching him.

Her eyes fluttered close, head pressed further into the pillow to fully focus on the feeling of his calculated, ruthless thrusts. Jasper didn’t hold back, he fucked her into the mattress with a strength that would leave her bruises for weeks. She kept choking on his name, fingernails scratching at his skin, trying to keep herself from cumming too fast, already close to letting go once again.

“Such a pretty sight, wish I could wake up to this every single morning.” Their eyes met for a brief moment, a moment she used to give him a slight push, rolling on top of Jasper. He stared up at her with a smirk, helping her ride him. “Take what you need, such a greedy girl.”

“Need it so bad, don’t let me go, Jas’.” He was mesmerised by the sight of her, allowing one hand to wander up her body, exposing her chest to his hungry eyes. (Y/n) momentarily stopped moving to pull the fabric over her head, fully bare for him and his wandering eyes. Curses rolled off Jasper’s tongue at the sight, hips jerking to meet her movements, needing to push her over the edge.

She struggled to keep up her pace as the welcomed sensation crawled up her body once again, gasping as Jasper flipped them around once again, fucking her through her high. He watched her fall apart beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, chest heaving. It was a sight he’d never forget, forever remembering their first morning together.

Jasper came a few seconds later, groaning (y/n)’s name into the crook of her neck, giving it a few more lazy thrusts. For a few moments, they kept quiet, simply holding one another, enjoying the blissful state they were trapped in. Only as Jasper slowly pulled away did (y/n) allow her eyes to flutter open, matching the smile he wore on his lips.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while.” (Y/n) whispered her words, hiding her face behind her hands as Jasper broke out in laughter.

“Good, means I’ve done everything right. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you escape this room anytime soon anyway.”

#Jasper Hale smut #Jasper Hale x reader #Jasper Hale imagine #twilight

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rafesslxt · 7 days

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✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

#sub mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys fluff #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys headcanons

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her-satanic-wiles · 8 months

Text

October 3rd

Hate Sex, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Hate sex; mean dom!Secondo; virgin!Reader; catholic!Reader (for now); degradation; piv; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it); semi-public sex; corruption kink; cunnilingus; multiple orgasms; dubcon; choking; breeding kink?; cum eating (because I’m a slut for it okay? I’ll see you in the goddamn parking lot); vaginal sex; loss of virginity;

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Your father becoming the Pope was not something you anticipated, but it was definitely a dream of his. As his daughter, you had your own responsibilities to the church that you had to maintain, as well as making sure your father’s reputation and standing in the Catholic church remained good and respectable.

You had made it your mission to save as many souls as possible, but only one you had given up on. He was the second son of a man named Nihil Emeritus - a lowly man who called himself Papa and claimed to be the anti-Pope for the Satanic Church. The leader of the opposition. His second son, known simply as Secondo, was cardinal to his father, and was a real piece of work.

You had, in previous years, tried to show him the way of the light, the way of the Lord. But he would always counter you with ridiculous quips and notions about Him that made your blood boil. How can one person be so blind to the rulers that oppress them as much as Satan did? How can they follow a beast so blindly and stray so far from all that was pure?

Constant talks between Satanic and Catholic churches would happen to set specific boundaries both physical and spiritual, but once a year, the Vatican and the Ministry would meet to set an example to followers on both sides - though everyone hated these meetings and wanted them to end, it was important for your church to be seen at the very least converting the dark ones with kindness and love that our Lord had shown you and taught you to be.

This year, for the first time in a hundred years, the Ministry were to host the talks and you were nervous to say the least. You were uncomfortable entering such a sinful building, filled with demons and lost souls, covered in pentagrams and statues of the Devil. As you walked through the white marble halls, you clutched onto your crucifix necklace and prayed quietly for the Lord to keep you safe.

Outside, they had a press conference and photo opportunity. Your father and the blasphemous Nihil had their pictures taken together, shaking hands and pretending to engage in important conversations for the sake of the press, before the rest of the churches were invited to take photos together like a NATO Summit. He was placed next to you.

His ungodly mismatched eyes hidden underneath layers of thick, black paint making him look like a bald panda. Not a single hair underneath his zucchetto, instead the only hair on his head coming from his eyebrows and his moustache. It would be unseemly to compare his aesthetic to a certain kind of video, but he definitely looked like he came straight out of it. You were both in our twenties but his choice of appearance made him look so much older than you. Yet there he was, confidently standing in a respected Cardinal’s uniform, soiling it with a grucifix and a perverted smile.

For the photograph, he put his arm around you, and rested his large, leather gloved hand on your bicep. Though your face was smiling like you were happy to be there, your insides were crawling with disgust. You shoved him off you as soon as the cameras had switched off. “Get your filthy hands off me, you creep!”

“Only for the photo, dipshit. Believe me, looking at you makes my dick soft.”

“Must you always be so vulgar?”

“Must you always be a prude?”

“You know, you are such a-”

“Children,” You heard your father’s voice and immediately silenced yourself, “come.”

“Yes, father.” As you walked towards your father, you brushed passed Secondo’s shoulder hard and held your head up high, preserving what remained of your dignity. You knew your father would force you into penance later for your emotional outburst.

The day was seemingly endless, and you often found your mind drifting away with itself thinking of other things. At first, your mind went to lunch - what would those hellish kitchens serve you? No doubt ground up fetus spaghetti. But when your eyes met Cardinal Secondo’s, your thoughts drifted to him instead. If he wasn’t so brutish, he would be attractive. If he was Catholic he would be attractive. But he was Satanic, an abomination. He needed saving.

Finally, you were granted a break and ran to the restroom as quickly as you could. Coming out, however, you ran into Secondo again.

“Oh, look! It’s the little snob.” He said, his face as stoic as usual. “Probably pissed out the holy water she drinks.”

“Go stick your face in it, see how it feels to burn.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

“You should repent. Beg the Lord for forgiveness. Turn to the light.”

“I’m much happier under the watchful eye of the fallen archangel, thanks.”

“You’ll burn in Hell.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Filthy sinners deserve to rot there. You and your family will suffer if you don’t-”

He moved towards you and grabbed your chin with his index finger and thumb, his eyes filled with anger and hate. You felt your heart rate spike in fear, yes, but there was also something else you couldn’t identify. “Listen to me, you stupid little sheep. I couldn’t give a fuck about your Lord, your God or the idiots who follow you. I don’t care about that fucking book you live and breathe by and I don’t care about you. You dare to come into my house and dictate what I do? I’ll do what I please, and worship who I please. Maybe you should repent, Sathanas would appreciate how you looked on your knees.”

“Get off me!” You shoved him as hard as you could and freed yourself from his touch. “You vile, filthy pig!” You hit his shoulder. “You sinful, disgusting cockroach! I would never get on my knees for evil bastards like you or your deranged goat god!”

“But you would get on your knees. Unless of course, you’re a virgin.”

You hit him again.

He gasped. “You are!” He laughed. “Saving yourself for marriage, huh? Keeping yourself pure and holy for a god that would kill you with no thoughts of regret.” He grasped onto your chin again. “I could save you, you know? Show you a better way of living. Worshiping a god who worships you back, and sends you the greatest pleasures you’ve ever known.” As he spoke, his face got closer and closer to yours until he was a single inch away from you. You could feel his breath on your face, smell the coffee from his break just moments ago. “Tell me to stop, little lamb, and I will.”

You should have. You don’t know why you didn’t. Maybe there was a part of you that hated how controlled you were by your father. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be tempted by a servant of sin. You weren’t sure about the reason, but you knew that when his lips touched yours and he pulled you in for the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had, or the only kiss you’d ever had, you were tasting a glimpse of the pleasure he offered you. His tongue immediately sought entry to your mouth, and you granted the permission, letting him take the lead and teach you what to do. It felt so good. You had to stop. This was wrong.

You pushed him off you one final time and slapped his face. No words were spoken, there wasn’t anything to say. He didn’t look offended by your slap, nor did he look put off by it. He still looked at you with the same lustful expression he had moments ago. And you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your hands gripped his cassock and pulled him back in for another kiss, this one more violent and desperate than it was before. It was messy, all teeth and tongues and no finesse to it whatsoever. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, before gripping onto your ass. The feel of his covered hands clutching onto you sent a thrill through your frame you’d never felt before. Before you knew it, a moan had escaped from your lips and caught up onto his, which made him smile.

The sound of people approaching made you both pull away from each other. You began to panic. You were sure you looked disheveled enough from the kiss alone, and the Cardinal’s cheek was beginning to redden where you slapped it. In a panic, you grabbed hold of his hand and ran into the first unlocked door you could find, keeping the lights off and shutting yourselves in as quietly as you can. Secondo was chuckling at you, but you simply held a hand over his mouth and kept as quiet as you possibly could. You couldn’t be seen being intimate with a member of the Satanic church! It would ruin everything. When the people left, you sighed in relief.

You had unknowingly pulled both of you into an office of some kind, but you didn’t know whose office it was, or if they’d even be back. It was in the silence of the room that you realised what you’d just done. And how close you were to Secondo. Before more doubts could sneak back in, your lips found each other’s again. You don’t know who started it, but now that you had, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. His zucchetto was the first thing to hit the floor, followed by your own hat and your heels.

Secondo’s mouth travelled to your neck and began placing open mouthed kisses there, driving you mad with want. You couldn’t think of anything else other than him. You loathed him, he was evil. But he felt so good.

He backed you up against the desk in the room and continued to kiss your neck, his hands roaming all over your body. His were the first to touch you in so many places: your shoulders, your arms, your waist, your stomach, your breasts and now your thighs.

Your legs opened for him automatically so he could slot comfortably between them. Your sun dress hiked up over your thighs, giving him perfect access to your panties which were now drenched in your arousal. It wasn’t long before his hands made their way under your skirts and stroking over your vulva. He barely pulled away from your neck to utter his words, “the good Catholic girl, soaking wet for the Devil’s son. Do you think your god is watching, little lamb? Hm?” His fingers moved your panties aside. “Do you think he’s disappointed in you giving into temptation?”

“Yes.”

He stood up straight, his forehead touching yours as his finger rolled over your clit. You released a strangled noise at the new sensation, and your hips bucked. “You’ve been a good girl up until now, haven’t you? Keeping yourself pure for your god. My god sent me to you,” he pushed one finger inside your wet heat tapping upwards immediately, “I am His gift to you. Tell me, little lamb, will you accept His gift, even just for today? Will you let the one you hate the most defile you?”

“Yes!”

He kissed your lips again as his fingers hooked into your pure white panties and pulled them off you. He got onto his knees and directed your legs to rest onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help it. “I hate you so fucking much - ah!”

He silenced you by wrapping his lips around your clitoris and sucking hard, not giving you any chance to ease into this. You could feel him smirk into your cunt as he lapped up your juices, shaking his head and licking away until he was convinced you were seeing stars.

Your hands flew to his head, holding onto him as if you were about to float away. The pleasure was so overwhelming, and nothing like anything you’d ever felt before. Sexual pleasure of all types was a sin - and you had never indulged at all. You were too scared to. You were an adult, so sheltered about adult things you knew nothing of what your body could do. But now here you were, legs spread with the son of the anti-pope licking up your arousal like he was eating his first meal in days.

That same son was now inserting a finger inside of you again, tapping up and making you cry out. Your noises were uncontrollable and loud, but there was nothing you could do about it. Silence didn’t feel like an option. You needed to make noise and you couldn’t explain why. You gasped when he added a second finger. Your hips moved on their own accord and you bucked into the pleasure, simultaneously wanting to escape it but also get as close to it as physically possible.

“W-wait!” You said. Your words were slurred and your voice full of panic. “S-something’s happening. You - mmm - you have t-to stop please!”

He ignored you entirely, refusing to stop his ministrations no matter how much you squirmed. “Stop, y-you sack of sh-shit. Oh my God!” His other hand, somehow so powerful, stopped your hips from wriggling away and pinned you to the desk. You were helpless when you toppled over the edge, seeing black as you came for the first time. Secondo worked you until you were overstimulated and collapsed back onto the cold wood of the desk. Your body covered in sweat and your breathing laboured. Your head was spinning from the intensity and you could barely move.

Secondo stood, his hand on his crotch moving his cassock out the way to free himself. His cock was big, or to you it was anyway, girthy and as long as his hand. He gripped your hips and pulled you towards the edge, making sure you were easy access for him. He lined his cock up to your vulva once more, but instead of pushing inside he rubbed himself against your folds, groaning at the feel. “This is your last chance,” he told you, “tell me to leave and I will. If you don’t, I will sodomise this virgin cunt of yours.”

The feel of his cock against your folds was torturous. Your hole was clenching around nothing, screaming for him to enter you and have his way with you. There was a small voice in your head telling you to run, leave now while you still could. Your whimpers and the sound of your wetness was now the only noise in the room.

“What do you want, little lamb? Do you want me to stop?”

“No!”

He stopped his ministrations and placed the head of his cock at your entrance and pushed in the smallest amount, not enough to completely penetrate you, but enough to drive you insane. “Tell me what you want.”

“F-fuck me.” The request tasted weird but you meant it.

Secondo nodded. He grabbed hold of your hand and held it. “Look at me.” He told you.

For a second, you looked vulnerable and it made his dick throb. You sat up and placed your hand on his chest, nervously pushing him away with no force. “Will it hurt?” You had always been told that it would hurt, and now you were scared you’d be in pain.

His own tough facade dissipated briefly, and the hand that wasn’t gripped in yours went to cup your face. “No.” He said gently. “You are wet enough and my fingers stretched you. But if it hurts too much you must tell me.”

You nodded.

With you now concentrating on him, he began to push into you. His thick cock spread your walls a little further than his fingers did, and the pressure was a lot. Both of your hands moved up to his neck, grasping onto him, as your eyebrows worried and your mouth fell open. Every time you thought he would stop he just kept going.

“You good?”

Your body was on fire. There were too many things to feel. “Yes. Oh God!”

The toughness returned to his demeanour and there was a dark glint in his eye. “Your god can’t help you now, little lamb.”

Before you had the chance to process his words, he pulled out of you and then slammed all the way back in, causing you to scream It felt Earth-shatteringly good to have him inside you. He did it again. And again. “You sadistic bastard!” You exclaimed in between moans.

He laughed but said nothing, instead concentrating his gaze on where your bodies met. Every rough thrust sent you a little further across the desk, and your back couldn’t remain upright. You allowed yourself to lie back down again, your body jiggling violently with every movement. You had to bite your finger to keep you from screaming again.

“Look at you,” Secondo began, “lying there with your - fuck - your legs spread like a c-common whore.” You tightened. “The whore likes being reminded of who she is, hm?”

His hips moved faster and faster as he got more into his head, watching your tits bounce as he defiled you.

“What’s the matter, little lamb? Devil steal that tongue? Mm, shit. No smart remark? Wh-where’s that snobby cunt who keeps telling me to repent now?” He pulled out of you and manhandled you off the desk, spinning you around and bending you over it slightly. He slammed into you once more. His hand wrapped around your throat. “Oh, that’s right, she’s booking herself a one way ticket to Hell.”

“Fuck you!” You hissed.

“Giving yourself willingly to the son of Satan. Oh, how the righteous fall from grace.”

His other hand ran seductively down your body, and as his teeth began to bite your ear, his finger stroked your clit in circles. His breath in your ear, his hand on your clit, his cock in your cunt, it was all too much. You were surrounded by him, breathing him. He was everywhere and difficult to escape. But you didn’t want to escape. This was the most free you’d ever felt, the best you’d ever felt. You came around his cock this time, tugging at his cassock and gasping for air, collapsing back onto the table.

In your mind, you saw the crucifix within your private quarters at the Vatican - the very same one that was gifted to you by the previous pope. You could see Jesus as if he were right in front of you. The look of disappointment present on his face as he watched you give into temptation and gift your most sacred gift to the Devil. The disappointment didn’t make you feel guilty for once in your life.

With that thought in your mind and the fog cleared, you began taking control, meeting Secondo’s thrusts with as much passion as he was giving which stole a guttural moan from him. “Oh, fuck, just like that. Let me fuck this tight, virgin cunt. Take my cock, you fucking whore.” Both of his hands grasped your hips with such tightness, you thought he would bruise you. “You’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, little lamb? Shit! You want me to cum deep in this cunt? Knock you up with the fucking Antichrist, hm?”

No. It was too risky. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Cum inside me. Give me your filth!” You heard yourself say.

With a growl, Secondo stilled and emptied himself into you, letting his own body fall forward and pin you down to the desk. You had no choice now, you were forced to take all his cum whether you wanted it or not. How would you beg for forgiveness now that the Devil’s seed was spilling into your willing womb?

Despite his exhaustion, Secondo dropped to his knees again and ran his tongue through your folds, collecting his cum from your pussy and working you towards your third and final orgasm. This was bordering on pain, but it felt so good. Your knuckles turned white from how hard you gripped the desk. Turning to look behind you, you saw him practically worshiping your cunt, and that alone was enough to tip you back over the edge.

When all had finished, and you were both redressing in silence, you realised the implications of what had just happened. You had committed the ultimate sin… and you didn’t want to go back…

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day ⛧ Part 2

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artificial-transmutations · 7 months

Note

Idea: My fantasy is to be forcibly transformed from a young, affluent, VERY clean, well-educated, well groomed, well dressed white corporate executive into a VERY dirty uneducated garbageman. I must be forced to surrender my corporate career, my car, my office, my name, my money, my expensive formal business suit and tie, my wristwatch and polished black dress shoes and even my dress socks, along the way to my new real life.

Boardroom to trash bins

You glance at the golden watch on your left wrist and decide to walk a little faster.

You are not late - yet - but the board meeting is too important to be late to. Of course, on the other hand, you can't walk so fast that you would break a sweat. The thought alone of arriving at meeting room with beads of sweat on your forehead or, God forbid, a damp spot on your dress shirt is even worse than coming a minute or two late. That, at least, you can blame on the traffic, which is not even wrong. Your expensive German car has been stuck behind a garbage truck for a good ten minutes. Inacceptable, of course. You would expect the city to schedule such annoying but probably necessary services at night, when there is no traffic that could be slowed down by it.

After all, you have a reputation to uphold! You are Jameson Pierce, son of the millionaire and successful investor James Pierce. You are also the owner and CEO of one of the most prominent investment companies, Pierce&Co.

You have the best business education money can buy and your decisions influence the fate of thousands of employees of yours. You don't arrive late to board meetings like that!

Still, there is no reason to get agitated yet. If the lift is free, you will arrive perfectly on time.

As you quickly make your way over the office parking lot that is being overshadowed by the 50 story skyscraper you own, you almost collide with an old man in a blue uniform, who is blocking the way into the building by picking up refuse from the ground. Apparently, the wind has knocked over the garbage can next to the entrance, and all the contents have scattered on the pavement. The old man is just bending down to pick up the cans and garbage bags and put them back in the bin.

"Out of the way!" you blurt. Usually, you are nicer to your employees by just curtly ignoring them, but this old man is blocking your way and moves slow as a snail.

"Of course, sir, right away!" he says with a toothless smile, and you almost gag. The old man is disgusting! He looks as if he has been sleeping on the street, and the smell of booze emanating from him makes that assumption very likely. You briefly wonder if he even works for you and decide that if so, he needs to be disciplined for his appearance.

However, you are interrupted by his next sentence.

"I just need to pick up all that garbage here. You could help, sir, that would make it quicker."

What? This filthy old drunkard dares to ask you for help? The audacity!

"Out of my way!" you repeat and push the old man aside. You are now standing directly in front of the revolving door, ready to enter your company's building. Behind you, you can hear the old man mumbling something and then start cackling, like a maniac.

You shrug it off. The man is lucky you don't have time for that right now, as you carefully navigate through the scattered items on the ground. You need to be extra careful not to ruin your thousand dollar shoes or dress pants by stepping into something sticky and foul-smelling.

Even if you weren't in a hurry, there's no way Jameson Pierce would bend down to pick up garbage. You are reasonably proud to have never touched anything that has been in a bin - that's what employees are for, not managers like you.

The board meeting continues as bad as the day had started. It is way too warm in the meeting room and you can't prevent a single drop of sweat forming on your forehead. Of course, you wipe it away with your silk handkerchief and hope nobody has noticed, but that's not the only thing going wrong. Twice in your report, you find yourself at a loss of words. Instead of using the correct technical term, you have to verbally set back half a sentence and explain what you mean in simpler words. How very, very embarrassing.

It comes as no surprise that, when the meeting is finally over, you are in a particularly bad mood. Sadly, the old man from before has left, otherwise you would have fired him on the spot as a therapeutic action.

On the way to your car, you call your secretary to cancel all further appointments today, but as you try to ring the number, you just get the message that no connection could be made.

Just great. So, your office phone system has broken down as well. Angrily, you get in your car to drive over to your office yourself.

You don't get very far. Halfway on the way to your office, there is a grinding noise from the engine and then, your car just stops. Right in the middle of the street. You almost can't believe your bad luck. Angrily, you hit the steering wheel, sounding the horn in the process, but it's no use. Trying to ignore the honking from outside and the rude gestures of drivers finding their way around you, you reach into your pocket to call the car dealership. Luckily, you're well covered for such situations.

You stare blankly at the device in your hand. This isn't your cell phone. Instead of the brand new current flagship model with the big Pineapple on the back, you are looking at the cheap plastic of a no-name device with a cracked screen that is probably ten years old.

"What the...?"

You frantically search all of your pockets, but they are all empty.

You can't help but feel as if you have gone insane. No, there has to be a rational explanation. You have probably just pocketed the wrong phone when you were at the board meeting. Of course, there are immediately nagging voices in your mind that remind you that you had tried to call your office just before getting in the car, or that surely nobody at the board meeting would have such a phone, but you decide to tune them out.

Your office is now only two blocks away. There, you have your tablet with all of your contacts. You can call the car dealership to care for the car and then just end this horrible day.

You get out of the car and ignore the shouting from the other drivers. A line of cars has formed behind your expensive Mercedes, but you ignore that as well and begin to walk. Two blocks don’t sound too bad, but it is a hot day, and you feel uncomfortable quickly. You have to loosen your tie because it feels constricting around your neck. That's not the only piece of clothing feeling wrong. Your step feels heavier, and you have to scratch yourself multiple times, trying to readjust the expensive Italian dress shirt, which is suddenly not sitting right.

Finally, you arrive at your office building. You don't even want to look down on yourself. You can feel your shirt clinging to your body and you feel disgusted by your appearance. Good thing this will all be over soon.

As you approach the elevator, you notice that you don't have your wallet at the ready - you must have forgotten it at the car. Ignoring the fact that you just now have realized the lack of its weight and the fact that you never leave your wallet in your car, you go to the reception for an elevator.

The receptionist, a perfectly styled young woman, watches as you approach and smiles.

"Hello Sir, what can I do for you today?"

"An elevator to my office." you say, adding a "Please." although you don't really feel like it.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but what exactly is your office?"

You look at the receptionist dumbfounded.

"My office." You repeat slower now.

"I don't know you sir, you need to be more specific." The young woman smiles.

That's it.

"What do you mean you don't know me?!" You shout. "I own this fucking place. It is me, Jameson Pierce! Now call me an elevator and then pack your things, you are fired!"

The receptionist looks at you as if she was dealing with a madman.

"Sir, you are not in the company register and I'm sorry, but if you don't leave the premises immediately, I'll call security."

"What are you talking about? I have an office on the 50th floor, which is where I need to go!"

"You can't have an office there, sir, that is the executive offices. Now, please leave."

"Listen, girl." you lean closer, invading her space. "Call. Me. An. Elevator. Or else."

The young woman doesn't even flinch. She presses the intercom and speaks with a steady voice: "Security, there is a madman in the lobby. Please come and remove him."

"You little...", you start, but the young woman is done talking to you. Instead, she turns away and starts to file her nails, waiting for security, which arrives some seconds later.

"Good!" You address the bulky Black man in the dark security uniform. "Could you please tell the girl that I have an office on the top floor."

"I don't think so." the man replies, "But I can show you the exit. Follow me, Sir."

"No. I am the CEO. I own the company! My father James Pierce gave it to me!"

The security guard shrugs his shoulders and takes hold of your arm.

"As far as I know, Mr. Pierce has no children. Leave the premises, Sir."

"But... you can't treat me like that! Do you know who I am?"

The Black man doesn't reply, instead, he begins dragging you towards the door. Unsurprisingly, he is much stronger than you, and your expensive shoes drag over the marble tiles.

"You can't do this!" You yell. "I will sue the company! You will all lose your jobs, just watch!"

"Whatever you say, Sir." The man pushes you outside the building. You stumble a little and then turn around, but the door is already closing.

"Fuck you!" You shout after the guard.

You take a deep breath. Whatever is going on here, it's not good. What to do.

After some consideration, you decide to grab your wallet from your car and take a cab home. There, you will deal with all of this.

As you arrive at your car again, you come just in time to see it being towed away. All running behind it and shouting does not help. You almost cry as you see the towing truck disappear around a corner, along with your car, your wallet and everything else you left in there. As you turn around to leave the scene and walk home, the next disaster is already waiting for you. There is a muddy sinkhole in the sidewalk, left over from some construction work and you don't notice it until it's too late. The next moment, you find your right leg standing in stinking mud all up to your knee. You try to free your leg, of course, and it works, sort of. With a smacking noise, the mud swallows your right shoe whole and leaves you with one dirty sock.

This day can't possibly get any worse, you think, but you are wrong.

Half an hour later, you have to admit that you got lost entirely. You are in a part of the city you have not been in before. Usually, you navigate the city with your cars GPS, but that is not available. You try to use the cheap phone to find out where you are (stoically ignoring the fact that it unlocks just fine with your fingerprint) but the only thing you find is that whoever owns the device has not paid for mobile data. You are offline. You could, of course, ask someone, but it takes some courage to ask a stranger where you are, especially in your current state.

Finally, you realize that you have to ask someone if you want to get home anytime soon. Right now, you find yourself in front of a landfill, which is both a blessing and a curse. It smells absolutely disgusting, but at least the people working here should have a good idea on how you can get home.

You enter the building with the grimy walls and look around.

"Hello?", you ask into the empty room. You are just about to leave again, when a burly man comes from the back. He is at least a head taller than you and twice as broad. His clothing is dirty, and you can see tufts of body hair coming out the top of his shirt and his armpits. Absolutely revolting.

The man looks at you for a second before shrugging his shoulder.

"Whatever." he says. "What's your name, kid?"

Needless to say, you are confused. "I am Jameson Pierce. Could you please..."

However, the big man interrupts you again. "Fancy name. I'll call you Jerry, okay? Come with me, I'll show you around."

"Wh-what do you mean?", you stutter but follow the man automatically.

"You're the new hire, aren't you? Gotta say, you're pretty scrawny, Jerry. But the job has no requirements, so if you don't mind getting your hands dirty, you're gonna fit in fine. Here are the lockers. The name's Hank, by the way."

You look around. You are in a room with a dozen dirty lockers. There is a foul stench everywhere and you have to suppress the urge to gag.

"No, I'm not new here. And I don't want to work here, or get my hands dirty!" you protest, but Hank ignores your lamenting.

"It's not gonna be easy finding an overall in your size, but we have a few small ones here as well. By the way, the overalls are shared with the other boys, hope you don't mind. Ah here. Try this one."

Hank throws you an overall. It is, in theory, blue, but both your nose as well as your eyes tell you one thing: It is entirely unwashed. For days, possibly for weeks. The clothing reeks of sweat, dirt, piss and probably even more things that you don't even want to know about.

"What's wrong with you? I am not gonna wear that."

"Well, what did you think when you came here?" Hank is clearly amused. "You can't work in these clothes of yours, even if they are dirty enough. Come on, strip, while I look for boots."

"I won't do that." you say. However, Hank is already gone. You don't think about it too much and begin to take off your expensive clothes. It is almost painful, but for some reason you... have to? It's a difficult to describe feeling. The dirty blue overall is sitting next to you on the locker room bench and is almost inviting you. You can't help it. You just have to strip. Soon, you stand in the dirty locker room clad in only your silk boxer shorts. You didn't notice that every piece of clothing you have taken off somehow changed. Your expensive dress shirt became a cheap t-shirt with stains on it. Your pants turned into a pair of ripped jeans and your golden wrist watch just... vanished.

"If I were you, I would be going commando." Hank, who had returned with a pair of work boots you can smell from over there, comments. "You're going to move around a lot. Besides, all the boys are doing it.

You look at the overall again, almost gagging now. Some other guys have worn it, rubbing their bare asses and dicks into the fabric. And Hank expects you to do the same. Suddenly, you remember the smell. Sweat, piss and other smells. You shudder. You shudder in... anticipation? As you automatically lower your boxer shorts (who turn into plain cotton briefs as you do), you can feel yourself growing hard at the thought of stepping into this dirty overall. At the same time, you are disgusted beyond measure.

Still, it's almost like your arms are on auto-pilot as you step into the overall and pull it up around your naked body, until the disgusting smell envelops you.

"Glad you like it." Hank grins and playfully grabs your very obvious erection through the dirty fabric. "You might want to meet up with some of the boys here in the locker room after shift, I hear some of them need to release some steam after a good shift. Now, come on. Pull the boots and get moving, we don't have time to waste."

You stare blankly at the big man as you realize what he just said.

"Wait." you stutter. "You think... You think I'm..."

"You're gay." Hank interrupts. "No worries. A lot of the boys are."

You can't believe what he's saying. Gay? You?

"But I am not!"

Hank doesn't even seem surprised.

"You might want to tell that to your hard cock. Anyway. Boots."

He tosses the dirty boots in front of you, and you find yourself bending down to pull them up. They are a little bit too large and feel like they are made of rubber, not leather. As soon as you have both of them on, Hank nods approvingly and then grabs you by the arm, pulling you out of the locker room and towards the garbage truck.

The next few hours pass quickly. The other men (it seems the job has exclusively male company) are friendly but don't go easy on the "newcomer". Everybody calls you Jerry and you have to do the most disgusting work you have ever done: Hauling full bins to the truck, sorting through garbage, cleaning up spilled garbage from the streets. Still, nobody is complaining and so you don't, either. After all, there are more pressing concerns: You feel dirty, your whole body is covered in a thick layer of sweat and dust. Your hands are filthy, and so is your face. And the worst part of it all is: A part of you is enjoying it, a lot. At first, the part is strictly physical. You have a boner pretty much the whole time, and whenever you need to do something especially disgusting, it visibly and violently throbs against your work pants - a fact that doesn't escape the rest of the boys.

After a while, though, more changes set in. The full bins appear to become lighter and easier to move. Of course, that isn't the case: Your muscles grow in front of your eyes, and the overall, that was a bit too big, fits better and better. Hair starts to grow on your chest, your legs and arms, and stubble forms in your face. Your carefully maintained hairstyle dissolves into an unkempt mess on your head.

But the changes don't stop there. Overall, you feel like you are getting more and more youthful. You weren't terribly old to begin with, in your mid-thirties, but a strange energy makes you feel more like end-twenties, mid-twenties and finally, like a man who just turned 21.

At the same time, however, your personality changes as well. You start to talk less and less, and when you do, the words aren't quite as sharp as before. Your education slips away with every word you say, and your vocabulary is replaced by slang, often with a bit of swearing. It becomes more and more difficult to think, too. The boys quickly pick up on this and joke around you not being the sharpest. It's not that they're wrong. You're dumb, if you're being honest. School wasn't for you, so you dropped out at some point. Bit by bit, you really become Jerry, the dumb, sweaty, smelly garbageman. And Jerry, unlike Jameson, enjoys the dirt around him. You can hardly remember being a clean and smart businessman, and that's alright with you. Even though your thoughts are slower, however, the memories of your former self are not gone entirely. Every once in a while, you remember who you used to be. But at the latest when the shift ends and you and the rest of the horny boys are going to the locker room, you decide that this is, indeed, a simpler and a better life.

There is literally a metric ton of more pictures here, in my tip jar - variations of Jerry at the end. If you like my writing, consider joining the riot page for a tip (and ocassional additional pictures)

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

Note

danny ... finding out the boy in the picture ... is the v card thief !!!! Kicking my feet and giggling !!

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {7}

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff, soft!danny WC: 2.5K F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight Snapshots: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Fic Playlist: Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett

The colour behind your eyelids dimmed and you opened them wondering where the cloud had come from in the endless blue sky. You immediately sat up and looked around for Danny when you found the cloud in your day was actually Andrew towering over your sun lounger.

“Uh, hi,” you said as he smiled and leaned in to try to hug you. “Woah, what are you doing?”

“We haven’t seen each other in like five years.” His arms were still open expecting to embrace you.

“Exactly.” You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body after seeing his eyes roam the skin that was visible.

“Hey baby, is this guy bothering you?” Daniel arrived at your back, his hands cold on your shoulders from going to the lakeside cafe and getting some iced drinks. “Wait, I recognise you - you’re the perv from the picture.”

“What?” Andrew chuckled in confusion.

“You were checking her out at the bar last night.” Daniel opened his phone and shook his head as he saw the picture again, confirming it as he turned it around. “Seriously?”

Andrew laughed and looked at you with a smirk. “I thought it was you but I couldn’t see your face. That ass though, I’d recognise it anywhere.”

“Danny!” you gasped as you leapt to your feet, turning and planting your hands on his chest at the first sign of movement. “There’s a crowd, you know what Christian said.”

“You think I care, kitten?”

“I think he isn’t worth it.” You looked over your shoulder to see an incensing remark about to be sent Daniel’s way. “Andrew, please leave.”

“Andrew huh?” Daniel echoed before his arms curled around your waist and he stared him down from where he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“She told you about me?” he asked with a cocky grin.

You sighed at the stand off you found yourself in the midst of and narrowed your eyes at Andrew hoping he would get the message to piss off but he wasn’t looking at you and seemed content to ruin your day. More and more cameras were coming out as the tension seemed to ripple across the surface of the lake.

“Did she tell you I was her first?” he taunted with a smirk.

“So? I’ll be her last,” Daniel laughed as his hand splayed low across your abdomen, his fingertips dancing across the top of your swimsuit bottoms and drawing Andrew’s eyes down to the movement. “That’s all that matters.”

“Drew, move it along,” your father stated as he arrived, soaking wet from leaving the lake to intervene when he noticed the three of you.

“It’s public property, sir.” Daniel snorted at the switch in character while your dad found his phone with his belongings next to yours, already starting to dial a number. “Who are you calling?”

“Your father.” Andrew was gone before he could hit ‘call’ and he tossed it back on the sun lounger with a shake of his head. “That boy never knew when to walk away.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“It’s not a family reunion without some drama, last time it was Nessa and that boy - what’s his name? - I lose count,” he said with a roll of his eyes before pointing a finger at Daniel’s hand. “I know you’re marrying her, but she’s still my daughter, hands above the waist, son.”

His palms had warmed on your skin and they quickly shifted up to your ribs with a stiff nod. “Yes, sir.”

With your father heading back to the water, Daniel couldn’t resist whispering in your ear, “Imagine if he knew all the bad things I had done to his little girl.”

“I don’t think they are bad things,” you whispered back. “I think they are very, very good.”

“That’s because you are a filthy little minx, my kitten.”

You turned in his arms that remained firmly above your hips and bit your lip as you thought of all the filthy things you wanted him to do. “Wanna head back early?”

His smile turned to a chuckle and his head tilted slightly. “To an empty house? It would be very quiet.”

“Not for long, I’m sure you can change that.”

His hands started to drift to your ass and he swallowed as he watched your tongue wet your lips. “Just how will I do that?”

“I could tell you, or...I could show you.”

“Any other ex-boyfriends I should know about, kitten?” Daniel asked on the drive home from the airport.

“Nope, funnily enough I wasn’t all that interested in dating and men before I met you.”

His eyes to you, quickly reading the honesty on your face before returning to the road. “Then how did Douche-Bag-Drew get a shot?”

You shrugged at the question and tucked your leg up on the seat to rest your chin on your knee as you watched the city come into view. “Naivety, YA books, I don’t know. I thought it was an experience you were meant to have before going off to college or uni. It wasn’t because I was ready or in love. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much, it was horrible.”

He reached across the seat and took your hand, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows pinched together in confusion at the apology. “Why?”

“Because you deserved better,” he said softly as he laced his fingers with yours and drove with one hand on the wheel. “I would have laid you down on a bed of rose petals and kissed every inch of your body. I would have made you comfortable and ready for me. I would have made sure you came before I even entered you, gentle and slow.”

His words were sweet and filthy, both making your chest swell with emotion and your pussy throb in reaction. “And that’s why I fell in love with you.”

You weren’t even home for 10 minutes before Daniel was out the door on an errand so you unpacked your bags before taking a shower after the flight left you feeling icky. You took your time assuming he would join you after hearing him pottering around in the apartment but after running out of things to wash and shave you turned the water off. After towelling off, you stepped out of the bathroom and gasped at what you found waiting in the bedroom.

Scented candles lit the room with the curtains drawn shut, the orange glow of each flame spilling across the quilt that was covered in red petals. The playlist you had made with love songs for your wedding was playing quietly from the speakers in the ceiling and Daniel hummed along as he entered the room with two wine stems filled with the special reserve wine of his you loved.

“Baby…” you choked as your eyes began to well with unshed tears and he handed you a glass.

“No bad things tonight, kitten,” he promised before sealing it with a searing kiss that almost made you forget you were holding a glass. You started to place it down on the drawers but he pulled back and lifted it up to your lips. “There’s no rush, love.”

The hint of cinnamon notes in the wine mixed with the rose petals on the bed and Daniel’s woody cologne drove your senses wild as you took a sip. This time he followed you as you placed the glass down, letting you set the pace as you took his hand and walked backwards to the bed. His arms curled around your waist and he picked you up to gently lay you down on the petals. They crushed beneath you and their scent grew stronger as Daniel started to kiss his way down your body.

“That tickles,” you giggled as he made it to your ankles before starting to make his way back. He smiled as he draped one leg over his shoulder and kissed your calf while his hand ran up and down your other leg, the contrast of his hard fingers stark against his soft lips. “I love your legs, kitten, they are stunning, especially when they are wrapped around me.”

Warmth prickled across your skin as his words filled your heart until you were certain it would burst with everything you were feeling. This was the side of Daniel only the people closest to him saw. Everyone else saw him as a comedian or their competition. Few saw the compassionate and caring man that was in front of you. There was a seriousness with his determination to make you feel the best you possibly could that he didn’t even have on the track.

“Let me wrap them around your hips then,” you dared as you wriggled closer, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

“Not yet, I’m taking my time with you.” His hands caressed your thighs, his thumbs drawing soft circles that brought him closer to your core each time as he settled between them. His lips found each stretch mark and blemish, kissing them with sweet murmurs of your beauty and erasing every insecurity you had felt over the years. “I am the luckiest goddamn man in the world, kitten.” Your head fell back onto the quilt as his breath blew across your core and his palms reached the supple skin on your inner thighs, his thumbs spreading you open for him. “Only an idiot would let you go.”

You could only just think clearly enough to comprehend the shade thrown at Andrew but it was forgotten when his tongue teased your entrance, dipping inside to taste your essence before he hummed in contentment. He kept his promise and took his time, keeping you teetering on the edge of bliss until you were lightheaded from the shallow breaths you just managed to gasp. Only when you were begging him, your muscles constantly tense and shaking from how tightly wound up you were, did he press his tongue to your clit and give you the pressure needed for the orgasm to break free.

The room reverberated your cries of pleasure and his tongue was there to lap at the fruits of his labour and elicit every last drop until he was drunk on your taste. Rising to his knees between your legs, you could see his jeans struggling to contain his erection and you begged him to hurry up and rid himself of the clothes he still wore.

You tried to help, reaching for the zip as he unbuckled his belt, but he stood up out of your reach to pull his shirt over his head and then kick his jeans off.

You couldn’t believe this was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with, he was more than you ever imagined a husband to be when you cast your eyes over his body and watched him fist his cock in his hand. Somehow you had been lucky enough to find a man who would not only die to protect you, but make you feel alive with every breath he had left; a man who could go 300 km/h on the track but take his time loving you in bed.

“Daniel, I love you,” you whispered as if it were a confession and not something you told him everyday - but this was different. He was giving you the experience you should have had the first time, when you lost your virginity too soon and to someone you didn’t love. “I’m ready.”

The weight of his body on yours was reassuring and comforting as he lined himself up, still content to take his time, easing slowly into you until you both moaned when your bodies were completely joined. Your breath mingled as he pressed his forehead to yours and felt your hands dance along his spine, his eyes staring into your soul as he started to leisurely roll his hips, deliberately unrushed despite the primal urge to chase his own release.

You had never felt such a shattering release as you did when his hand travelled down your thigh, gripping the underside of your knee and pulling it so you could wrap your leg around his hip. There was something so intimate in the way his hand glided over your skin, finding the swell of your ass and caressing it with the same softness that sent goosebumps rising along your skin and your heart fluttering erratically.

“Danny,” you moaned as you tried to tell him what was happening, but the words were lost as he felt it for himself, your core clenching around him before erupting in undulating waves that tipped him over the edge of his own self-control.

Your name tumbled from his lips as you felt his cock pulse with his release, feeling the heat of his seed as it filled you and he dropped his head to your shoulder with a peppering of kisses. “Now I’m your first and last, kitten.”

Click here for the next part.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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bluecollarmcandtf · 10 months

Text

Farmboy

I hate grocery shopping. Usually I make whatever dumb chick I'm seeing do that crap, but I'm between hoes right now. Hopefully the cashier is hot enough to flirt with.

Dragging the cart down the aisle, I almost run into a giant oaf studying a rows of cans. The guy is tall, fat, and severely sunburnt. I can tell he's got some impressive muscle beneath his chub; probably from all the labor he does on his farm. Wearing denim overalls and a straw hat, he's essentially a walking cliche.

"Hey move it, redneck," I snap.

"You have a problem with me, son?" he slowly turns and peers out from his dirty beard.

"Not you," I answer annoyedly, "Just your fat ass. Move it."

This guy has to be slow because he just doesn't seem to get it. Instead of getting out of my way, he takes lumbering steps towards me and grabs my cart with his meaty paws.

"Try again, son."

"Man, let me through already!" I roll my eyes, "Are you dumb or something? All I want to do is pass! Then you can get back to shoveling crap and humping cows, ok?"

The hulking farmer staggers towards me until his fat stomach almost bumps me over.

"You think I shovel crap and hump cows all day?" he quietly growls down at me.

"Sure. You probably sleep with the pigs too big guy," I add.

"That sounds more like something you would do, kid," he slowly retorts.

"Man, look at me," I cry, "Do I look like a filthy redneck?"

"Actually you do."

His response catches me off guard. I'd just wanted to get the shopping done, but now this guy is straight up lying to my face. No one could ever mistake me for a country bumpkin with my stylish hair and $300 sneakers.

"You look exactly like a farmboy," he continues to grumble, "Just take a look at your hands, kid. See how worn they are; how filthy they are. That's the sign of hard work right there."

I can't help but hold my hands out in front of me.

That can't be right! Just like he said, dirt and dust cover my palms all the way up my arms. They're somehow riddled with callouses even though I rarely used my hands for anything.

"What'd you-"

"And look at what you're wearing, kid," he keeps talking, "You've been tracking dirt all through the store with those boots."

"I have $300 sneakers..." I nervously glance down.

I almost scream when I don't see my favorite kicks. My shoes have somehow been replaced with big rubber boots. I don't even own a pair of these, and yet they cover my feet all the way up my shins. Like the farmer had said, they were caked with mud, and it looks like I had created a messy trail of footprints across the store.

"Stop," I beg quietly.

"Stop?" he laughs and each bellow echoes through the store, "I'm just getting started, kid. You haven't even looked in the mirror yet. You've got the same bib overalls I got on!"

I shudder and turn away, abandoning my cart to run through the store in my awkwardly huge boots. I need to find the nearest bathroom and fast. I can already feel my clothes changing and a pair of straps pulling at my shoulders.

Bursting into the restroom I stare at my reflection.

I'm wearing the same redneck outfit as that farmer freak! Before I start ripping the clothes off, the door slams open and the giant farmer lumbers in.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing to me!" I scream, "Give me my clothes back!"

"Why would I do that, kid," he asks, "You love this getup. You don't want those fancy city clothes anyway."

I cringe as the tall boots suddenly feel very comfortable on my feet. The straps of the overalls on my shoulders are all the sudden very comforting to me. God this thing stinks, but I feel a new kind of pride in that stench. It is after all my own smell. There's nothing wrong with reeking of hard work, right?

"That's it, kid," the big redneck pats my head with his dirty hand, "There's nothing you'd rather do than work on my farm, right?"

God, he's right. All that land, the animals, and solitude sound perfect. I would be happy to work on his farm.

"Alright farmboy, come with me."

I follow behind the giant as he marches out of the grocery store. I notice that the cashier is exceptionally cute when we pass, but a pretty girl like that has no interest in me. She cringes at my smell. Girl probably can't handle the smell of a real man.

Back at the farmer's ranch, he leads me to the barn, and shows me inside.

"You'll live in here with the animals, kid," he explains, "I'll teach you the routine of feeding all them, but I have other chores for you to do right now."

The farmer hands me a shovel and bucket. Both things are covered in mud and who knows what else, but I don't mind. I already can guess what my job is.

"Picking up crap and humping cows, huh," he chuckles, remembering words I said a lifetime ago, "Well you can get started by shovelling all the crap. We'll see about the cows later."

"Awesome," I smile, happy he's already trusting me with his animals.

I get right to work, shovelling up the piles of dung. I can't help but smile with joy. This work just makes me so happy. I should probably keep my mouth closed though if I don't want any flies buzzing in, but I just can't help myself. Boy, am I glad I ran into the guy.

#gay hypnosis #mind control #hypno story #male transformation

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bjornswoman · 5 months

Text

Foe's regret I

Author's note: Hello there! Here comes this fic you chose to come. At this part I have to say that one more part has left to come from this series. Thank you for supporting me. I wasn't planning on delivering this today. I had it in store for Christmas as a gift to you all, but I couldn't keep myself from posting it, so here it is. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Mini!series, drama, angst, violence, slight romance.

Summary: Your life is about to change again, probably this time things will get better... or not.

Warnings: Violence (emotional and physical), mentions of murder (strangulation), strong language.

My enemy and me masterlist | Nemesis's wish | Enemy's cruelty | Rival's touch |

Days and nights had past but everything felt the safe inside your prison. Only this time you weren't only miserable and hopeless, but also betrayed and filthy after that disastrous of a night.

You wanted to run away from Kattegat – from Ubbe. But you knew that this wasn't even an option – not after what had happened the previous time. You wouldn't even dare to lay a foot outside the Hall without someone on your tail.

However, that wasn't the only reason behind this. Your son had a huge impact on your decision. Even if you ever found the opportunity to leave this place for good, Ragnar would hate you for taking him away from his father. A father who was Ubbe Ragnarsson – a magnificent warrior, descendant of Odin himself. The child was his first-born – his heir – you had no right to take him away from him.

On the other hand, you couldn't leave on your own. You couldn't stay away from your son – your heart wouldn't bear not to see him for a day let alone a whole life. The only meaningful thing you had in this life was your son – without him you were dead.

The thundering sound of a goblet falling startled you and forced you out of your thoughts into the atrocious reality. Around you men and women were laughing and drinking, fighting and eating, talking and dancing. It was another feast that you had to pretend to be the perfect wife. False smiles and identical words and promises were all you could see behind the masks of all those pretenders that were surrounding the Hall.

"You don't seem to enjoy yourself." Drunken, slightly hoarse voice spoke from the seat next to yours. It was a familiar one though it didn't belong to your husband – it belonged to his younger brother.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Hvitserk." You answered and you glanced at the drunk man. Then your eyes went back at the crowd.

You weren't in mood of starting any conversation – even with Hvitserk. You wanted to stay on your seat drinking ale from your goblet until the night was off – and you prayed for it to end soon enough because you couldn't stand seeing her swinging around the Hall giggling with the guests full of your husband's child. And your husband's eyes were only on her, the love of his life – now you knew damn well that he was lying he hated you because he couldn't be with her and you were hating him more than before. More than ever.

"Well, I won't push you to talk if you don't want to, but you should know that if you ever need to spill your guts and let of steam, I'll be here." Those were the realest words you had ever heard coming from someone else – from someone who was too drunk to reconsider the words coming out of his mouth. And yet it didn't seem this way, it seemed like Hvitserk meant each one of them.

You turned your gaze on him properly this time. Maybe he was right you should speak to someone – you should take this weigh off your shoulders, but you knew that Hvitserk couldn't be the one. He was Ubbe's brother and in love with Margrethe. Torvi couldn't be that person either, she was his brother's wife – practically his family.

That resulted to you having no one for once more. You were utterly alone, but you were used to it by now.

"You know that we can't really talk, don't you?" You asked him in low tone of voice and he turned his gaze on you. Green eyes gazing right inside your shuttered soul.

Hvitserk shook his head and chuckled. You looked at him frowning in curiosity.

"Ahh, yes. I almost forgot for a moment that you are more like a bird imprisoned in a golden cage than my brother's wife." You almost smiled at the comparison he managed to make.

"I was never the second as for the first I start to think that the only thing missing is the wings." You tried to play along, but the melancholy didn't let you be as playful as Hvitserk was when he pointed out the similarity between you and a caged bird.

Hvitserk left the goblet on the table and sat properly on his seat, his eyes were only on your figure along with his attention. It was like he was totally sober for a moment.

"You mean he broke your wings the only time you dared to walk out of that cage?"

"Something like that." You smiled sadly, recalling which moment he was talking about.

"And yet you love him. Still."

You frowned. You opened your mouth to protest – to accuse him of lying, to give him one by one all the atrocious reasons that his remark couldn't be true. You almost wanted to rip the collar of your dress and show him the scars of his brother's large hands on your neck of all the time he almost strangled you. But most of all you wanted to yell at him because he dared to say such an awful and offensive thing.

"You don't need to persuade me of the opposite." He continued and grabbed his own goblet taking a long sip of his drink. "I don't know the reason behind all this horrible situation you have to live in – well, in fact, I know it – but I wish things were different between you and him. You are a good woman – you deserve a lot of things and surely this torment isn't one of them. He is a good man as well, but he is stubborn and I can say that he loves you back."

You didn't want to hear anymore. You didn't know which your reaction should be. Not because you were shocked or believed any of his words. You knew that Ubbe didn't love you – he hated you. He had even told you that he loved her that night.

Before Hvitserk could even start again talking about Ubbe's hypothetical love about you, you dumped your own goblet on the table in front of you and left your seat.

"Don't say anything else. Ubbe himself told me that he loves her." You said quickly and stormed in your chamber before Hvitserk could answer you.

You didn't need to hear anything else about Ubbe or Margrethe. In fact, you didn't even want to see them for the rest of the evening. You needed a night away from all this despair – you deserved it after everything you had been through lately.

However, your silence didn't last long because Ubbe stormed in the room more frustrated than you did a few minutes ago.

"What do you want?" You asked him angrily because of his sudden appearance in there.

"Are you out of your mind?" He yelled and kicked the table flipping it over, throwing all the decorations on the floor.

"No, you are out of your mind!" You were yelling too now. You couldn't believe at the audacity of that person. All he did was coming in and yelling at you over and over and over again. It was all a circle happening again and again the same thing and you were tired of re-living the same scene every day.

"I am not the one who caused a whole scene in front of so many people and left! What do you think you are doing?"

"Are you serious? I caused a scene? I was talking with Hvitserk! Just a civilised talking! Something you can't do apparently because all you do is yelling!" You yelled back. All you asked was for a simple night. A silent one which meant away from him and his madness. He was mad – there wasn't any other excuse behind all of his behaviour. However, you couldn't find a proper reason he was in such a state. You hadn't caused any scene in there.

"Don't bring this on me, woman!" He was very angry – you had seen him this way multiple times before and you knew what was to follow. His hands were running through his braids uncontrollably and you couldn't understand the reason he was so mad. "You are the one who humiliated me and my family!" His finger pointed out on you and you scoffed – you couldn't help it – and it enraged him more.

Within a couple of seconds one of his hands was on your throat pressing it until you had no breath in your lugs. Nothing new – just some bruises and marks that you had to hide under your clothing. Ubbe pushed you back on the wall – your back hit so hard that all the inches of your body were shaken.

"You humiliate my name and you have to get punished for it!" He growled and you looked at him as angrily as he eyed you. You weren't going to lose this time – not again. And most importantly you couldn't let him know that you were afraid. He couldn't know.

"What are you going to do that you haven't done yet? What, huh?" You challenged him, looking him in the eyes. You wouldn't back down.

A sardonic smirk formed on his face when he heard your words and his face came closer to yours. You weren't used to be this close to him. Your faces were mere inches apart and without your approval your eyes stared on his masculine features.

"I am going to take Ragnar away from you. You are going to see him again when you will act properly." His tone was normal again, but his nerves weren't. Your eyes widened and you tried to do something you hated yourself for the same moment you did it. You raised your hand and tried to hit him – to slap him on the cheek – but his hand stopped you.

After that, both of his hands were gripping you firmly and this time maybe he would make his dream coming true – he was going to strangle you to death and as he said once; nobody would suspect him.

Your eyes widened again, but this time not because of the fact that he was going to kill you this time, but because you were going to hit him. You had never done that before – never. You had thought about it plenty of times, but never did it.

You closed your eyes waiting for your death and tears rolled from your eyes – tears because you tried to hit him. He had done horrible things, but you – you weren't this beast. Images of your son were flashing before your eyes at you last moments.

But you didn't die at the end of day, because the door opened and Hvitserk along with Sigurd and Bjorn forced Ubbe away from you. They tried to help you when Ubbe was forced away from you, but you stopped them you fell on the floor coughing, trying to breathe normally again.

Bjorn and Sigurd were talking to him as Hvitserk was standing next to you trying to make sure whether you were fine or not.

"He wasn't.... going to kill me." You managed to say with clear difficulty in breathing. All pairs of eyes were following you while you were struggling to stand up.

"It didn't seem this way to me." Bjorn pointed out and you shook your head trying to convince him the thing around.

"I wouldn't kill her." Ubbe spoke finally, his burning blue eyes were only on you as your own eyes were on him. "Now leave us for a moment. We will be alright." He told them and they looked at disbelief before they walked to the door.

"We will be right outside, don't even think about it." Hvitserk warned his brother before all of them were out of the door and stayed just the two of you in the room.

Ubbe didn't try to come close to you, he stayed at his former position and neither of you talked. The atmosphere was suffocating inside the room.

"You were very lucky this time, but next time you will raise your hand on me you won't be that lucky." He warned you in much calmer tone of voice.

It was a threat – another threat.

You hated yourself for trying to hit him. He had never done it, but had done other equally awful things. You wanted to tell how sorry you felt and ask for forgiveness and you would if it was for another person. You would never leave your guard down for him again. You knew better than falling for his tricks again.

"We will see about that." You couldn't keep your mouth from saying it.

"Don't tempt me to finish what I started." Ubbe growled before he was out of the door.

"I'm sorry." You muttered when he was out of the chamber and touched your hurting neck. Tears started streaming from your eyes at the memory of you raising your hand on Ubbe.

After some hours, you un-braided your hair and put on your night-gown ready to lay on your bed, after your son was asleep. You blew out the candles and laid on your bed closing your eyes. But you didn't get to sleep, because the wooden door opened and closed. You kept your eyes shut, but your hand moved under your pillow and wrapped around your dagger's handle.

When you felt the mattress next to you moving, you turned around and pointed the dagger at the man's neck. You could recognise him under the midnight light coming from your window. You knew this person well – fortunately.

"I must confess that I wasn't expecting this." He whispered, but you didn't take the dagger away from his neck. For the first time ever, Ubbe Ragnarsson was under your mercy. That meant that you could do to him anything you liked. This was getting entertaining.

"Why are you here anyway? You should be with your wife." You reminded both of you and moved the dagger closer to the flesh of his throat.

"In case you forgot you are my wife."

"I meant your other wife."

Ubbe didn't seem to want to answer your question probably he – himself – didn't know the reason he was on your bed.

"You know that I could take this little knife of yours easily." He said and touched the tip of your blade. You smirked hoping that he couldn't see it in the dark.

"Yes, but you haven't taken it yet." You heard him chuckling and you smiled.

"No, I haven't." His voice was coming from somewhere closer than you remembered. The dagger was still pressed on his neck, but it seemed as he didn't care at all about its existence – he wasn't afraid of you and that was annoying you even more than his arrogancy.

"I could kill you and nobody could prove it was me." You recollected his own words and used them to upset it, but it had quite different effect than the one you wanted.

As an answer his hand was placed on top of yours – on top of the hand which was holding the dagger on his throat. He guided the blade closer to his flesh and you watched him thrilled as he was pressing his own skin with the sharp knife.

"Do it. Kill me. Nobody deserves to kill me more than you do. If I am to die soon, I'd prefer to be you the one holding the blade soaking in my blood. So, don't hesitate, do it – slice my neck." The smell of blood reached your nostrils and you knew that it came out of him. He had been cut by the blade, but it hadn't been deep enough to be fatal.

You pulled the knife away from Ubbe and dropped it on the stony floor. Your hands were working hard in the darkness trying to reach for his wound. You knew that he was bleeding when your hands me the something liquid streaming – his blood.

You hoped desperately that he couldn't see your face. He couldn't see how upset and worried you were for him. You didn't want him to suppose that you cared – you didn't care. You didn't care at all.

And yet you couldn't stop yourself from lighting the candles again and searching for a cloth to treat him. When you found what you were looking for, you went back to bed. You sat next to his lying form and placed the cloth in the bowl of water. Then, you placed the wet cloth on his wound and he didn't react – he didn't even flinch.

His blue eyes were focused on you trying to stop the blood streaming.

"I thought you would want to get rid of me by now." Ubbe finally spoke and you dared to glance at him for a passing moment. You thought to yourself. You thought that it would be better if he was dead. However, you couldn't picture his death. You were afraid that if you even tried, it would happen. It should have been what all you were waiting for, but it wasn't.

"I have told you, Ubbe, I've never wanted you dead." Your eyes were back on the cut on his throat. It wasn't a fatal wound and it wasn't big enough, but still you couldn't let him bleeding. Not even for some minutes. "Not even after everything that we've been through." You confessed in a soft tone of voice. In such way that you didn't want him to know about that last part. But, now, he knew.

"And yet I would kill you if I had the chance." This was a confess and it made you smile. It wasn't like you weren't afraid that he wasn't going to do it, you were sure that earlier he would have killed you if his brothers hadn't stormed in the room.

Ubbe could kill you easily, but this didn't mean that you could do this to him as well. He didn't care whether your son would grow up having a mother or not, as you did. But this didn't make you change your mind when it should have had. If you were to walk away one day, you would do this and he would be alive. Although, if that ever happened, he wouldn't let you go far enough – he would find you anywhere.

"You have the chance now." You reminded him that you were alone and your gaze met his under the slight light of the candles. You left the cloth in the bowl and placed it on the table close to your bed.

"I can't kill you right now." Ubbe said and stood up from your bed to meet you.

"Why not?"

You hated the way your eyes were magnetised on his imposing figure. It reminded you how much more powerless you were comparing to him. You wanted to force your eyes away, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

Ubbe shook his head trying to fight back a smirk which was forming on his face.

"It feels like you are provoking me into killing you sometimes. You are so annoying and careless and stubborn and I can't keep myself."

His footsteps became heavier when he almost reached you. You didn't make any attempt to get away from him – you stayed on your former position, staring at him.

"From killing me?"

A low chuckle – one so dark that got goosebumps – came out of his mouth and he took a step closer to you. Again, you didn't try to escape which seemed a terrible idea.

You knew that you were asking too many questions that could get you in danger. This man was so unpredictable that you weren't sure when he would snap out of nowhere and try to strangle you again – or this time he wouldn't use his hands.

"Among other things." These words came out darker than it probably meant.

It wasn't long before he was in front of you and his hands were reaching for your skin. They rested on your neck, but not like previously. He wasn't wrapping his hands firmly around you – he was touching you. Just touching. Nothing more – only pure touching. And yet, only pure it wasn't. Nothing was pure between Ubbe and yourself.

His touch was intoxicating and you felt like you needed more of it. You needed this touch in every inch of your body. It was forbidden – Ubbe was forbidden. And that was the exact reason you had to stop this. Because if you didn't, it would ruin you again and this time it would be worse than any other.

You took some steps back. He didn't try to reach you again. Ubbe knew himself that this was a big mistake and it shouldn't happen again.

"Margrethe probably needs you." You told him bitterly. You couldn't even pronounce her name without feeling this weird feeling which had the exact taste with poison. "She's close to give birth to your child. You should be there for them both."

Ubbe knew that you were speaking the truth – he should have been with his wife – and yet he was in your chambers standing opposite you, feeling attracted to this room – feeling attracted to you.

"You didn't need me though."

It surprised you to hear him saying that. However, it was another truth that couldn't go by unnoticed or stay hidden between you two. You didn't lie to each other because you didn't care about the opinion the other person would form. At least that was what it was supposed to be like.

Indeed almost each month of your pregnancy you were alone, but you liked it. You didn't want Ubbe around – you hated the idea that he would eventually be around when this child would be born.

"But she does." You managed to mutter. You were trying to bring back those feelings. Those you had for him during your pregnancy – when he had been on another raiding and you hadn't seen him for plenty of months.

When you could actually hate him because you didn't have to see him every single day.

"Once you had told me that your feelings for me weren't hateful when I was away." Ubbe's voice held a different tone. One you confessed coming out of his mouth few times.

Yes, you could recall that conversation. It was the one he told you that he was thinking about you at the battlefield, but it was too late to believe in his words, because you had already found out about the slave girl and her child. It was one of the worst days of your life – how somebody could forget the day their life took the downfall.

Although, that conversation was the last thing you wanted to remember after all this threats and the tears you shed. And yet it was still stuck in your mind like it was yesterday.

"I was trying to give in to the feelings I felt for you. The way I had you in my mind when I was at the battlefield. Don't ask me how those feelings were formed — I have no idea. I was thinking of you, knowing that you were praying for me not to return. Those feelings couldn't be replaced by any fight we had. At the end of the day, all that stayed in my mind was one of your rare smiles and the way you care for our son."

Ubbe had said.

"I have never prayed for you to die on the battlefield. I did quite the opposite in fact and it felt strange in my heart. I hated — I told my self to hate you — I was telling myself all the things I hated in you so I could hate you. I felt strange for you — my heart was beating in a strange way as much as I tried to avoid it, it exists, still."

That was your reply.

Your eyes were fixed on his gaze. Ubbe wasn't paying attention in anything else in the room but you. It felt like nothing else existed except the two of you. If it was under different circumstances, you would feel special and even loved – only if it was even possible to acknowledge how it felt to be loved by someone.

His tone was a soft and kind of regretful one. But it had never lasted long. This time time it wasn't due to him mood swings but due to his brother storming in the room, out of breath. Hvitserk cut him off when it was obvious that he was about to say something – or more accurately – confess something.

When you saw the man standing next to the door, you let a long breath – one you weren't aware that you were holding all this time – to leave.

"Margrethe is in labour!" Hvitserk exclaimed and everything changed inside you. It felt like the reality was coming back and your delightful dream was over. The object of your misery was back there – visible –standing in your way.

Your husband's eyes met yours. Regret – they yelled. But you couldn't understand which was the thing he had regretted for.

For cheating?

For impregnating her?

For marrying her?

For treating you like garbage?

For forcing you to stay in his side?

For the misery he put you into?

Too many reasons and they weren't all of them. There must have been something you couldn't recall. And yet, you didn't care. You couldn't even feel pity for your wasted life anymore. In fact, you couldn't anything – you were empty.

"She's asking for you brother." Hvitserk spoke again this time softer. His eyes were moving from Ubbe to you and the opposite, because no one of you had said a word.

"Yes." Was the only thing Ubbe managed to say and dragged his brother outside of the room. "You should be there too. Make yourself proper and come." Your husband was back. That was the Ubbe you knew. Your tyrant.

You had no tears left to shed. You were just empty as you were putting on your dress.

You were empty when you walked through her chambers and had to confess her labour.

You were empty even when the child was out. Boy – the midwife had announced happily. And she brought it in your hands and you weren't empty anymore. He was crying his guts out – like your own. His brown eyes were big and pure and you lost yourself inside them so mush that you almost didn't noticed. Although when you actually show them, they didn't mean anything – a child was brought in the world and it was the biggest blessing Frigg could give to a woman.

"Give him to me!" Margrethe's voice was the one who heard through the silent room, but you didn't move to place her son on her lap.

"The prince should hold him, my lady." The midwife reasoned her, but she didn't stop yelling for her son.

Even if she wanted, she couldn't hide away the child from Ubbe. Sooner or later, he would see him. You couldn't interfere or even felt pity. Nobody pitied you when you cried. Nobody cared for you feelings.

You placed the boy on her lap. Without sparing a look at her – the young man was all you cared about. Which could possibly be his fate. Why did it have to be this difficult for a baby just born. Why should a child carry its parent's burdens.

Your footsteps were vast as you were exiting that suffocating room.

"Son." You muttered when you met the curious eyes of the people who were supposed to be your family. Your eyes dared to wander only on Ubbe's form. You were supposed to bring him his son on your hands and it would probably have happened this way is things had been different.

Ubbe frowned when he spotted your unclear expression. Even you weren't empty enough to be idle after this. You almost felt sympathy for him, forgetting about all the horrible things you had been through because of his cruelty.

If you were as cruel as Ubbe was on you, you would even say that all this was a payback for all his doing. But you didn't feel like it, not when in the middle of this situation stood a new-born boy. One that would probably be the object to everyone's ire.

Ubbe didn't wait for a second word or asked anything else, he just burst into the room without warning. You didn't dare to move or speak another word. After all, it wasn't about you anymore.

Tag list: @bruher, @utterlyhopeful-fics, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @fofisstilinski, @brianochka, @thelirofnorthlands, @malamistka, @gothicwidowsworld, @savagemickey03, @brianna-merlim, @shitsandgiggles1

#vikings ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe fanfiction #vikings au #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fic

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wilbursprincess · 4 months

Note

Arranged marriage with princebur headcanons?

-✨

Arranged Marriage With Princebur

Princebur x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex

OMGGGGG ✨ anon yes! Where have arranged marriage headcannons been my entire life? Apologies if you didn’t want this one NSFW… but I couldn’t help myself :’) nothing like an arranged marriage where they both realize they’ve fallen for each other <3

Headcannons below cut!

~When your parents informed you that they were marrying you off to a prince, you were… less than pleased.

~You had coffee with him and his parents shortly after finding out, and he seemed nice enough. A little arrogant, but God was he handsome. His parents were hospitable but not very friendly, commenting on how lovely it would be to finally have grandchildren.

~Not only was it bad enough that you were expected to sleep with this guy, but his parents talked about you like a vessel for babies. Not like a daughter in law. However, glancing again at his refined features, sharp jawline, and chestnut curls… maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

~The wedding was, to be expected, over the top.

~Obviously, Wilbur’s parents were filthy rich, throwing money at a lavish party for their only son and heir to the throne.

~The wedding night was slightly awkward, though.

~The castle was lovely, expensive gifts all over the room from Wilbur’s parents and other relatives. Diamond necklaces and silk floor-length gowns, were fine, but worst of all… so many baby clothes.

~Wilbur was sitting silently on the bed in your new bedroom (thank God it was a king sized bed), tie loosened around his neck.

~”I’m sorry,” were the first two words out of his mouth.

~Not quite how you’d expect to be greeted by your new husband.

~”What are you sorry about?” You’d softly ask, sitting on the bed next to him.

~”How you’ve been forced into this life, with a man you barely know, expected to pop out some new heirs,” he’d sigh, giving you a sympathetic look with his deep brown eyes. “I don’t even like this life. I don’t want to lead the country, be a father, or any of this shit. And now I’ve dragged another person into this hell.”

~You’d silently mull over these words for a moment.

~”At least, we’re on the same page,” you’d offer, hesitating before putting your hand on his.

~Wilbur visibly relaxed.

~“My mom gave you that nightgown, didn’t she?” He says, running his eyes over the lace fabric, stopping just before it scoops down to an enticing cleavage. “She’s really not kidding about the babies.”

~You’d awkwardly nod, looking down at your clasped hands.

~Wilbur would crack a smile. “It looks really pretty on you.”

~”T-thank you,” you’d reply, blushing a little. “Well, it’s been a long day, you ready for bed?”

~He’d nod, slowly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

~The wedding night. Fuck.

~You figured it would be something to get over and done with, hoping you’d just have to do it once and live with your husband like roommates for the rest of your life.

~But oh, lord, did you underestimate things.

~Feeling him between your thighs, your two bodies becoming one was such a new feeling, but so welcomed, warm pleasure spreading out from your core.

~You couldn’t tell if he was enjoying it or not, but the noises he was making… soft sighs and gasps, enough to make you groan.

~The pleasure turned into more after awhile, turning into an ever-tightening spiral…

~And the spiral snapped, sending you to heaven on the waves of pleasure radiating from the apex of your thighs, letting out a tiny moan as it faded out.

~Suddenly, you felt your inner thighs wet as he whined, pressing his face into the pillows.

~You would silently clean up next to each other, slipping back into pajamas before awkwardly turning out the light and falling asleep, a whisper away from each other.

…part 2?

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #princebur #wilbur soot smut #wilbur smut #mcyt smut #wilbur soot x female reader #bursonas #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #princesshcs #✨ anon

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m1ssunderstanding · 4 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 13

Ah it’s “coordinate with the carpet” day.

John could probably say “2+2=3” and Paul would be like “Oh you're sooo right, John.”

Literally the ADHD antics (jumping over a chair because it’s there and you can and it would be funner than going around) are so relatable.

Ringo putting Zac’s picture up? I don’t know much about him as a dad. Does anyone know? I mean I know part of the reason he and Mo left india was because they missed their kids, and in late 66 when John was making HIWTW and Paul was working on TFW and George was off learning filthy eastern ways, Ringo stayed home and ‘enjoyed the baby’. Was he a really good dad?

John: I really liked how that lead singer was singing so soft and nice. Paul: like this, John? Like this? John? John, look at me, do you like this?

Literally why are you even there, Yoko. Like, genuinely, not for the bands sake or anything, but for your own sake, go find somewhere else to be! Something, something, one of the few ways to find success as a woman was to attach yourself to a man and she was hustling with the best feminist tools available okay, okay. Ugh, I just don't know if I could stomach it.

I heard John say “Rickie and the Red Streaks” and I was like, ummm, did you mean “Suzie and the Red Stripes”? But apparently it’s a real band. They were in the same Cavern show as the Beatles when they came back from Hamburg but never made it big. And Paul was purposely referencing them with Linda's pretend band because, as he said, he would have been happy to just have been them instead of the Beatles.

“John, can you take a little bit of bass off your guitar?” The faces. Paul told him to take some bass off a minute ago, didn't he? Or he just knows how much John hates to be told that. Anyway it's the silent communication for me.

Paul: *stops his little wordless moan-singing for two seconds*. John: Everybody had a wet drea–SING, Paul! Paul: Ooohh yeah! He’s sooo happy I’m melting. Paul McCartney wants one thing in this life, and it’s for John Lennon to tell him to sing.

“He would’ve been president, you know.” John, bless your naive, lovely heart.

Paul: shrieking. John: moves the microphone the way a mom takes the sharpie out of her toddler’s hand.

“If you can get ‘em off Mimi’s wall.” I have a hard time with Mimi. Sometimes she’s adorable. Sometimes she’s horrible. I really can’t get a read. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe John couldn’t either.

This moment. My little ND baby. Someone just hit your g spot, didn’t they? But to be fair, it is incredibly impressive. Billy has never heard the song before, and he just jumps in with the perfect fill? I love Billy. So talented, such a cutie, so cool, so kind. And look at him. Having such a good time.

The silent communication again here. “Are you hearing this?” “Yeah, baby, I’m hearing this.” Then, John vocalizes the decision. How many Beatles decisions were made like this? Thinking specifically of Brian's account of their decision for him to manage, but probably this happened constantly.

Yoko reading “The Beatles Complete History”. I love that she’s like, “Everything John tells me is ‘Paul this, Paul that, wah, wah, wah’. I need to get some cold hard facts.”

Billy’s piano actually is insanely sexy though.

John: *complains about his rock and roll finger* Paul, turning up the scouse: Come on, son, now try your hardest. John continues, soft, needy' Lookie, look at him. *holding up his finger* Paul, genuine: Ah, I know. I just love the different ways they take care of each other.

Poor George, dissociating himself into another dimension as John’s crooning about Paul’s eating habits. Look. At. How. He’s. Looking. At. Him. You’d think Paul was in that moment creating the heavens and the earth. Nope. Just rocking back and forth like a catatonic, probably getting crumbs all in his greasy beard.

But seriously HOW is everyone in this room watching these two men, taking in to account all of their behaviors, scream "All I want is you!" at each other and not forcing them immediately into either fucking or therapy or both?!

Ringo’s holey pocket, my beloved.

The guy with the RP accent and the suit coming up to John like the bad guy in every American children’s movie. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Klein.” Dun, dun, dun.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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sheeple · 6 months

Text

Miracles don't exist | 30: Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Dumbledore's death A/n: Another year complete. I'll be taking a break as usual from posting to finish the story. 24th of December will chapter 31 be posted. But before that time I've got a little extra content for y'all :)) [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Theodore is quick to send a spell flying towards the Death Eaters. But it's easily deflected by Bellatrix Lestrange. You try to get out of bed, grabbing your wand that lies on the bedside table. But your legs give out under you and you land painfully on your knees.

You crawl towards the closest wall and hoist yourself up, raising a shaking arm and ready to defend yourself and Theo. "What," huff, "do you", huff, "want?", you ask, out of breath.

You already know the how, but now the why. Why here with you? And not hunting down Dumbledore.

With a flick of the wrist, Fenrir Greyback comes stalking toward you, a sinister smirk on his face. You yelp and fire a disarming spell, but it bounces off of him.

Theo's quick to jump over the bed and stand in the way between you and the werewolf. He puts an arm in front of you, which you hold on for support.

"Isn't that just the cutest?" Bellatrix laughs cruelly, the other Death Eaters joining her. "The little fiancé is protecting her."

You wish you had more strength, you wish that you weren't so exhausted so you could stand up to her. But instead, your legs shake and the hold on your wand is weak. Even if you wanted to protect yourself and Theo, your spells would be weak.

"I won't ask again. What do you want?" You raise your chin.

She grins, walking towards you. She throws Theodore away with a flick of the wand against the wall and grabs your face, digging her filthy nails into your skin. The two of you stare in silence, daring the other one to look away.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Theo clambering up. You give in and look at him worried.

Bellatrix takes this as a victory and rips her hand away from your face. "Take them", she orders to Greyback.

The werewolf picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You trash against his hold, but it's useless as your feet dangle off the ground and Greyback just marches on. A Death Eater holds Theodore at wand point and makes him drag his body off the floor.

You're disorientated as the group moves through the castle, upstairs and through doors. Until you finally feel the cold breeze of the night air and you're being put down.

Draco stands in front of Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his wand pointed towards the elder man.

"Well... look what we have here." Bellatrix halts the group, her eyes trained on the pair. She moves towards your cousin, whispering, "well done, Draco."

"Good evening, Bellatrix." Dumbledore seems unbothered like he has been expecting it. "I think introductions are in order, don't you?"

"Love to, Albus. But I'm afraid we're a bit on a tight schedule. Do it!", she hisses towards Draco, the boy's hand shaking.

You try to move forward, but Fenrir's hand wraps around your throat and holds you in place. You move your hand to the side, reaching out to see if you can grab Theo's hand. But he's too far away from you.

"He doesn't have the stomach, just like his father. Let me finish him in my own way", remarks someone to your right.

"No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy must do it."

There is some creaking from down below you, and you glance at it. Your breath stops as you spot a reflection in a pair of glasses. Harry. The two of you make eye contact and you slowly shake your head, scared of what will happen.

Bellatrix storms towards Draco, leaning close to him. "This is your moment. Do it. Go on, Draco! Now!", she bellows, clearly getting impatient.

Draco quivers, his face morphed in anguish. The grip on his wand tightens and you swear he's going to do it. He's going to kill Dumbledore.

"No." Professor Snape appears from nowhere, making everybody turn towards him.

There is a moment of silence and shock until the headmaster breaks it. "Severus... please", he begs.

The former Potions Master raises his wand and fires off the killing curse. Avada Kedavra rings in your ears as a flash of green light hits Dumbledore. He flies off the railing and you scream. You launch out of the hold of the werewolf and rush towards the railing, watching how the man drops from high until his body hits the stones below.

You clutch a shaking hand over your mouth. Bile rises in your throat. A pair of hands snatches your shoulder and you get pulled towards the stairs. You watch how Bellatrix fires the Dark mark into the sky with a celebratory yell.

The Death Eaters move swiftly towards the exit of the castle, destroying everything in their path. Everything is a blur until you're outside and Hagrit's hut is in flames.

"Snape! He trusted you!" Harry comes barreling down the hill, wand in hand and fury in his eyes. He fires spells at the man, getting angrier every time Snape deflects them. Until he yells, "Sectumsempra!"

You let out a shriek, clutching your hands over your ears and crouching down. You brace for the impact, the pain. But it doesn't come. Instead, you're pulled to your feet and dragged towards somewhere.

You disappear in a flurry of dark robes and black smoke. Hands grip you and you get pulled in all different kinds of directions. It's hard to breathe. And even when you have stopped moving and you collapse on the ground, you're still out of breath.

The grass under you feels coarse. You know where they took you to. Malfoy Manor. To Voldemort.

A hand grips your bicep harshly before you get yanked off the ground and dragged into the house. You look up and study Snape. He has his never-breaking hard glare on his face, his eyes focussed on where is supposed to go and nothing else. They don't wander, don't linger.

He brings up stairs, and down endless hallways until he stops in front of familiar wooden doors. He knocks two times and waits a moment before opening one of the doors and pushing you inside.

You stumble, your legs still weak. You find your footing as you hold the back of a chair for support.

The Dark Lord stands in front of the fireplace, his back facing towards you. Nagini slithers around him, her head resting in his hands as he pets the snake.

You wait with bated breath for what will come.

Nagini slithers from the Dark Lord's hold towards you. She makes her way up your leg and restricts herself around your middle. "Hello, pretty", she hisses. If a snake had eyelids, she would have fluttered them at you.

You swallow with an uncomfortable smile on your lips, you reach out and run a hand over her scaly body. "Hello, Nagini", you answer back.

She lets out happy hisses. Nagini nestles herself against your body with no intention of letting go.

The Dark Lord is still facing the fire, his wand in his hands. "I assume the mission went successful?"

"Yes, Draco fulfilled his assignment. Dumbledore is dead." It feels weird to say it out loud. Everything happened so fast that you didn't even have a moment to realise what happened. Dumbledore is dead and Snape killed him. All the while Draco was supposed to do it.

The Dark Lord turns around, his snake-like eyes trained on you. You straighten your back, chest rising anxiously.

He reaches out and takes hold of your chin in an ice-cold hand, his long nails digging into your skin. He studies something on your face. "What did this?"

Confused, you frown. He pushes your face to the side so you're facing a mirror fastened on the wall next to the door. You take a step towards it and Nagini unfurls from you. A large and angry scar creeps from under your jaw towards the inner corner of your right eye. You trace it and hiss as it still hurts.

"I was... I was hit with the Sect- Sectumsempra curse... by Harry Potter", you admit, hanging your head low. Flashes of pain travel through your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut.

A presence behind you turns you around and you do not dare to look at him. "My Heir, I expect you from now on to attend every meeting and follow my every order. If you do so, I'll grant you your revenge."

You snap your head up, brows knitted together. "My revenge, Father?"

An unnerving smile grows on Voldemort's face. "On Harry Potter."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @daintylittlerose

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bullet-prooflove · 18 days

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ATF!Series Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Before you there was ATF Agent June Stahl.

David doesn’t know what he was thinking when he stuck his dick into that particular bag of crazy. The two of them had a mutual hate for the MC and for each other. She was there to get the job done and he utilised that. They ended up fucking on his desk barely a week after she landed, kept it up for over a month before things turned sour.

What he remembers the most from that time was that it was always filthy, always violent. He’d hurt for weeks in the aftermath, his uniform chafing the scratch marks she left on his back. At no point during that ‘relationship’ did he feel good about himself.

It's been a couple of years since then and he hasn’t thought about her once, not until she strides into his stationhouse with a couple of junior agents and a bundle of files tucked under her arm.

“A war is coming.” She tells him.

And that’s it, the devil is back in his life.

David sighs because there’s been a couple of months of peace since Clay Morrow’s ‘excommunication’ and the Sons seem to be turning their hand to more legit enterprises. Their assets have been tied up in porn since Suzie Quinn took over Luann’s business.

“Galen O’Shay, he’s one of the Irish Kings, leadership in the True IRA. The Sons are hunting him.” She tells him before she shows him a picture of a man he doesn’t recognise.

“What do they want with him?” He asks as he leans over the desk and studies the image. He can feel her eyes on him, sizing him up just like the first time and he shifts uncomfortably. She sets another picture down in front of him and this one he does recognise.

“Evelyn Shaw, unofficial matriarch.” She says leaning in close. He can feel the heat off her body rolling over his skin, the overripe sweetness of her perfume invading his nostrils. It’s suffocating being this close to her, it feels like she’s trying to claw her way underneath his flesh. “The club’s defence attorney and Chib’s fuck toy.”

David sighs because he knows Evelyn, he’s dealt with her in the past. She’s a nightmare in the courtroom, fiercely intelligent, tenacious but she’s also a good person. He’s lost count of the domestic violence cases she’s brought him. Each and every single one wrapped up neatly in a bow, ready for an arrest. He suspects it’s personal for her, that if he tracked back her history, there would be a report somewhere that detailed something terrible that had happened to her.

“I don’t understand how the two connect.” He tells Stahl as he shifts away from her. She follows him the same way she did back then, maintaining proximity, keeping him close.

“Intelligence suggests that Galen took her a couple of months back, hurt her and left her for Chibs to find inside a barn on the outskirts of town. They’ve been calling him the Mad Scot from here all the way up to Stockton because of the violence he’s left in his wake trying to find him.” She tells him, her hand coming to rest on his and it feels like his skin is crying to crawl right off his bones to escape her. He pull his hand away, tucking it into his pocket. “It only stopped when Chibs received confirmation that Galen had left the country.”

“And now he’s back.” David guesses as he replays back the past couple of his months in his head. It’s been a while since he’s heard from Evelyn, he doesn’t realise it until now.

He’d thought that the Sons had gone quiet but now he realises what’s really been happening, they’ve been circling their wagons. Someone hurting one of their women, they won’t let that slide, the same way he wouldn’t. He’d go to the ends of the earth anyone laid a hand on you.

“Sure is baby and so am I.” She says her hand gripping his tie and drawing him closer, her lips ghost in his ear as she whispers. “My pussy’s missed that mouth of yours, why don’t you get on your knees and give her a kiss.”

He tears himself away, his cheeks colouring.

“I’d rather eat glass.” He tells her, using his palm to smooth over his tie.

She raises a eyebrow, her hand coming to rest on her hip as her voice turns cold.

“What? Your little art student lets you come in her mouth and you’re suddenly in love?”

His head snaps up and he senses his mistake the instant he makes it. He’s given her an opening, an acknowledgement that there’s someone important in his life that she can fuck with.

“How does it feel sticking your dick in the same pussy that Teller’s blown his load in?” She asks him, that cruel smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. “Or is that part of the allure, you get off knowing that you have the one thing that he wants.”

David tries not to react, he tries to keep his face impassive but she must see a flicker of something in his features.

“Has she told you anything about her time with him?”

David crosses his arms over his chest, his teeth grinding together as his eyes bore right into hers.

“You’ve never asked her have you?”

No, he hasn’t and you’ve never volunteered. There’s a line in your relationship that neither of you will cross because if you tell him something, you know he will have to do something about it and it tangles you up with the Sons all over again.

“This is a rabbit you don’t want to chase.” He warns her, his voice full of vitriol.

“We’ll see.” She tells him with shit eating grin of hers. “We’ll see.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#David hale #david hale x reader #soa #taylor sheridan #sons of anarchy #deputy chief hale #deputy hale

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assortedseaglass · 5 months

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🌟Wassail | Yuletide🌟

Tom Bennett x Fem!Reader

Summary: A minor indiscretion leads you to chaperoning the yearly children's wassail with none other than Tom Bennett.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

Spending the evening with a handful of excitable children and Tom Bennett wasn’t too bad, as far as punishment went.

You supposed your father thought the children, full of a night’s sugar after years of rationing, would tire you out with their boundless energy. Perhaps he also thought that Tom Bennett would scare you. A petty criminal that good, honest girls should be frightened of. Well, your father should know that you were far from good or honest. That’s why you needed punishing in the first place.

Word got to your father that you were seen in a compromising position behind the Capital Club with Willie Murphy on New Year’s Eve. You traced the source easily. Your father heard it from that busy-body, Mrs Browning, who heard it from her neighbour. The neighbour’s daughter just happened to be Minnie Goodman, Willie’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. The tale was a tall one, for in truth Willie Murphy snuck his hand up your skirt and you’d given him a smack. If Gossip Goodman wanted that creep all to herself, she was welcome to him.

“Hurry up you!” One of the little lads shouted at you as he made his way to the next house.

“Watch your mouth, Harry Tollet,” you said, coming to stand beside him and the other children. “You won’t be wassailing next year if your mother hears you talking like that to a lady.”

“My mum says you aren’t a lady,” Harry said, knocking on the door. A little girl beside him gasped. Before you could speak, Tom Bennett, who had been silent on the evening’s walk, stepped forward.

“You’ll get a clip round the ear an’ all if you keep on.”

Harry had no time to cower for the red door opened and the children sang a chorus of We Three Kings. Their tin cups were filled with mulled cider by the old lady at the door, and Tom ushered Harry away before his could be filled.

“That’s not fair-”

“Shoulda thought about that before you ran your mouth,” Tom shoved the little boy towards the rest of the group. “Best behaviour.”

One of the little girls whispered in Harry’s ear and gave Tom a wary glance. She smiled awkwardly at you and turned around as the next door of the street opened and the children began their singing once more. The house belonged to old Mr Preston, a widower who lived alone. His only son died in the war. He had no grandchildren. You watched, heart growing as the old man gave the children their cup of mulled apple and presented them each with a mince pie.

Silenced for a while by their full mouths, the children listen to old man Preston telling them tales of Christmases long ago. Enraptured, they forgot all about you and Tom. Thank Christ.

You smiled at Mr Preston and showed him your cigarettes, indicating the pavement on the other side of the street. He nodded knowingly and continued his tale.

Leant against the lamppost, you clicked your lighter and inhaled the heady smoke of the cigarette. Tom Bennett took out his own packets of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth. With his hands safely back inside his pockets, he swaggered slowly towards you, looking over his shoulder in a half-arsed attempt and chaperoneship. You snorted.

He came to a stop before you, clicking his heels together as though he were still in the navy. He looked down his long nose at you a moment, smirking. You weren’t rattled. He brought his long fingers to take the cigarette from your mouth and light his own with it. The end sparkled into life, the tobacco crackling. The low, orange flare of light illuminated his sapphire eyes, which were fixed on yours. That rattled you, just a bit. This was a man who made flirting an artform. He looked at your cigarette as he passed it back to you.

“Lucky Strikes? Very posh,” he drawled in his Manchester burr.

“Got ‘em from a Yank. Better than your filthy Marlboros. Bloody stink,” you took a drag and exhaled the smoke in his face. He didn’t budge, the smoke dissipating to reveal a fully born grin.

“Lucky Strike for a lucky strike?” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be jealous,”

Tom puffed out his chest and sniffed the night air. He glanced over his shoulder. You smiled to yourself; you never knew it was so easy to hurt Tom Bennett’s pride.

Across the road, Mr Preston had finished his story and gone inside. The children were walking to the next house, some hand in hand.

“They don’t need us,” you nodded towards them.

“Nah,” Tom said. “War made them different. Self-reliant.”

You hummed in agreement.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You stared at him, amusement tugging the corners of your mouth. Tom Bennett always thought so highly of himself.

“What for?”

“Harry.” He stated simply.

“But you didn’t do anything,” you laughed brightly.

Despite himself, Tom smiled. “Hold on-”

“Don’t think I could have handled a ten-year-old myself?”

Tom took a step up onto the pavement and, in doing so, brought himself closer to you. “Oh no,” his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “I heard you can handle yourself very well,” One of his hands slipped inside your coat to rest against the slope of your hip.

It wasn’t his hand that made you bristle. It was the assumption that you were easy. Sure, you’d had your fair share of flings, but you didn’t drop your knickers for any fella with a sly grin and foreign cigarettes.

You took his hand in yours, moving it from your waist and dropping it back at his own side.

“I’m only here ‘cause Dadda believed in a load of old hearsay,” You flicked your cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under your heel. Tom didn’t hide the way he stared up the length of your stockinged leg. “I wouldn’t touch Willie Murphy with a ten-foot barge pole-”

“I know,” Tom said simply, idle hands tucked back into the pockets of his jacket.

You stared at him, lost for words. No-one ever believed you. Seemed to think because you’d had three or four Longsight lads, you’d had the whole lot. “Really?”

“Yeah, course I do. He’s an ugly little bastard with more spots than I’ve had hot dinners.” You laughed. Towards the end of the road, the children were singing again, and the lamplights began flickering into life. “I didn’t try it on ‘cause I think you’re easy,” with another step, Tom was pressed flush against you. “I tried it on ‘cause I like you.”

Your smile of genuine happiness turned to one of mischief. “Tom Bennett, are you going soft?”

In the dim light, his blue eyes twinkled. With a wink, he stepped back and began his slow walk towards the gaggle of children. Falling into step beside him, you walked in silence but for the chorus of We Wish You a Merry Christmas and clack of your heels on the cobbles.

Gently, boldy, you tucked your hand into his. “Not so bad, is it, this punishment?”

“Not a punishment for me. Not a petty criminal anymore.” Tom said, smiling down at you and tugging you closer so that the kids wouldn’t see your entwined hands. “Nah, I volunteered.”

You stood still, mouth agape with amused shock.

“What?” Tom tugged your hand and you kept walking.

“You really have gone soft!”

“War’ll do that to you.” You bowed your head solemnly. “And the prospect of an evening with you.”

“Even with a headache’s worth of kids?”

“Even so.”

Finally back with decent internet! The last few days of Christmas are going to be heavy with uploads!

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett x reader #world on fire #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan nation #hilde's twelve days of christmas

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