#1178 words

[a-godman]

Enjoy & Shine the Christ of Glory as the Excellent Treasure in our Earthen Vessel

We need to enjoy and shine forth the Christ of glory as the excellent treasure in our earthen vessel. As believers in Christ, we have this treasure in earthen vessels that the excellency of the power may be of God and not out of us; the Christ of glory is the priceless treasure in our earthen vessel, and when we behold Him and look into the index of His eyes, we are infused with His preciousness…

[suzannahnatters]

So here's one of the coolest things that has happened to me as a Tolkien nut and an amateur medievalist. It's also impacted my view of the way Tolkien writes women. Here's Carl Stephenson in MEDIEVAL FEUDALISM, explaining the roots of the ceremony of knighthood: "In the second century after Christ the Roman historian Tacitus wrote an essay which he called Germania, and which has remained justly famous. He declares that the Germans, though divided into numerous tribes, constitute a single people characterised by common traits and a common mode of life. The typical German is a warrior. [...] Except when armed, they perform no business, either private or public. But it is not their custom that any one should assume arms without the formal approval of the tribe. Before the assembly the youth receives a shield and spear from his father, some other relative, or one of the chief men, and this gift corresponds to the toga virilis among the Romans--making him a citizen rather than a member of a household" (pp 2-3). Got it?

Remember how Tolkien was a medievalist who based his Rohirrim on Anglo-Saxon England, which came from those Germanic tribes Tacitus was talking about? Stephenson argues that the customs described by Tacitus continued into the early middle ages eventually giving rise to the medieval feudal system. One of these customs was the gift of arms, which transformed into the ceremony of knighthood: "Tacitus, it will be remembered, describes the ancient German custom by which a youth was presented with a shield and a spear to mark his attainment of man's estate. What seems to the be same ceremony reappears under the Carolingians. In 791, we are told, Charlemagne caused Prince Louis to be girded with a sword in celebration of his adolescence; and forty-seven years later Louis in turn decorated his fifteen-year-old son Charles "with the arms of manhood, i.e., a sword." Here, obviously, we may see the origin of the later adoubement, which long remained a formal investiture with arms, or with some one of them as a symbol. Thus the Bayeux Tapestry represents the knighting of Earl Harold by William of Normandy under the legend: Hic Willelmus dedit Haroldo arma (Here William gave arms to Harold). [...] Scores of other examples are to be found in the French chronicles and chansons de geste, which, despite much variation of detail, agree on the essentials. And whatever the derivation of the words, the English expression "dubbing to knighthood" must have been closely related to the French adoubement" (pp 47-48.)

In its simplest form, according to Stephenson, the ceremony of knighthood included "at most the presentation of a sword, a few words of admonition, and the accolade." OK. So what does this have to do with Tolkien and his women? AHAHAHAHA I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. First of all, let's agree that Tolkien, a medievalist, undoubtedly was aware of all the above. Second, turn with me in your copy of The Lord of the Rings to chapter 6 of The Two Towers, "The King of the Golden Hall", when Theoden and his councillors agree that Eowyn should lead the people while the men are away at war. (This, of course, was something that medieval noblewomen regularly did: one small example is an 1178 letter from a Hospitaller knight serving in the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem which records that before marching out to the battle of Montgisard, "We put the defence of the Tower of David and the whole city in the hands of our women".) But in The Lord of the Rings, there's a little ceremony.

"'Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.' 'It shall be so,' said Theoden. 'Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!' Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors and Eowyn knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corselet."

I YELLED when I realised what I was reading right there. You see, the king doesn't just have the heralds announce that Eowyn is in charge. He gives her weapons.

Theoden makes Eowyn a knight of the Riddermark.

Not only that, but I think this is a huge deal for several reasons. That is, Tolkien knew what he was doing here.

From my reading in medieval history, I'm aware of women choosing to fight and bear arms, as well as becoming military leaders while the men are away at some war or as prisoners. What I haven't seen is women actually receiving knighthood. Anyone could fight as a knight if they could afford the (very pricy) horse and armour, and anyone could lead a nation as long as they were accepted by the leaders. But you just don't see women getting knighted like this.

Tolkien therefore chose to write a medieval-coded society, Rohan, where women arguably had greater equality with men than they did in actual medieval societies.

I think that should tell us something about who Tolkien was as a person and how he viewed women - perhaps he didn't write them with equal parity to men (there are undeniably more prominent male characters in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, at least, than female) but compared to the medieval societies that were his life's work, and arguably even compared to the society he lived in, he was remarkably egalitarian.

I think it should also tell us something about the craft of writing fantasy.

No, you don't have to include gut wrenching misogyny and violence against women in order to write "realistic" medieval-inspired fantasy.

Tolkien's fantasy worlds are DEEPLY informed by medieval history to an extent most laypeople will never fully appreciate. The attitudes, the language, the ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS use of medieval military tactics...heck, even just the way that people travel long distances on foot...all of it is brilliantly medieval.

The fact that Theoden bestows arms on Eowyn is just one tiny detail that is deeply rooted in medieval history. Even though he's giving those arms to a woman in a fantasy land full of elves and hobbits and wizards, it's still a wonderfully historically accurate detail.

Of course, I've ranted before about how misogyny and sexism wasn't actually as bad in medieval times as a lot of people today think. But from the way SOME fantasy authors talk, you'd think that historical accuracy will disappear in a puff of smoke if every woman in the dragon-infested fantasy land isn't being traumatised on the regular.

Tolkien did better. Be like Tolkien.

[lovifie]

Fluff | Smut | 1178 words | Back to Masterlist

Simon Riley whose favourite hair was always yours.

The first time he touched your hair, you were both deployed. You were walking before him, your hair in a braid behind your head that was almost hypnotizing. You stick your head from behind a wall, and Simon pulls your braid the moment he hears gunshots to keep you away from the fire line. A whine escapes your lips that sounds almost like a kicked dog and you quickly look back to him. "Thank you, Lt." You mutter.

And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Your hair doesn't glow in the dark, yet it always draws his attention. Like a lifesaver floating in an ocean. He quickly learns that he can't wait to touch it again, so he observes and waits for a chance to do so.

Like when you were rewriting a report on the mess hall, Price told you it was illegible and taking into consideration Price's handwriting you took it to heart. So there you were, writing again the pages with your best handwriting.

A lock of hair in the middle of your face had Simon almost sprinting to you to move it out of your face before you could it yourself. Of course, he didn't say anything romantic, instead, he said: "You are gonna go blind like that, and you are supposed to watch my back out there."

It wasn't romantic on its own, but his hand remained caressing the hair now behind your ear and when you looked up to meet his gaze, the both of you pulled away from each other as if you had been hit. "That line is dropping, start it again." He comments. "Yes, Lt."

On another occasion, you got late to practice, overslept. Obviously by your bed hair, not even time to brush it. Price quickly told you to fix it and Simon seriously considered if the insubordination would be worth it, because he would rip both his arms off if he could wake up every day with that sight.

It was at that point that Simon realized he was doomed, because he had not been slowly pulled to you, he fell face first and being honest to himself, he was happy with it. He wouldn't admit it yet, it was easier to believe he only liked your hair.

And as time went on, it became more and more easy to find excuses to touch it.

Like when you got sick that one time, waking in the middle of the night to empty your stomach on the toilet. And it went on until the morning, when he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, too weak to walk back to your room.

Face wet with tears for not being able to stop throwing up, for being tired and for feeling useless. He quickly crouched down, paper towel in hand to clean your face. "Why are you here?" He softly asked, mask hiding his expression but his eyes gave away his emotions.

"I got sick." You mumbled, voice hoarse with the strain of the night.

"That I can tell, love." The nickname caught the both of you by surprise, but neither complained. "Let's get you to bed."

You nod, grabbing his hand to stand up, before another round of nausea hits forcing you to back down to throw up again. He quickly moved your hair out of the way grabbing it at the back of your head. "You are gonna get sick, Ghost. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure your dinner from last night is on my hand, so I believe we are past nicknames now." He says, being interrupted before being able to say the second thing.

"Don't touch my hair with puke on your hand!" You say grabbing his wrist, making him chuckle. You barely had the energy to pull your head up and still tried to fight him.

"I would never, love. That's the other hand." He said looking as you wiped your mouth, breath getting knocked out of him when you lock your gaze on his. "What is it?" You asked, confusing him. "Your name."

"Simon."

"Simon?"

"Simon Riley."

A beat of silence simmered in the bathroom for a second.

"That's a surprisingly sweet name, Simon."

And if the world had ended at that moment, Simon would have died a happy man.

But he didn't, instead, he eased his way into your heart.

It wasn't hard, and soon enough Simon didn't need excuses to touch your hair. And touching your hair was the excuse to get you closer to him.

Like when he was dying to kiss your lips, but you wouldn't look up to him. Why wouldn't you look at him? Couldn't you tell it was killing him? So he fisted your hair, pulling back slightly; enough to make you look up but not enough to sting. And when his eyes met yours, he dived right into your lips. Moving his hands to cup your face instead of your hair, needing to feel the warmth of your skin. The kiss pulling the air from his lungs but still making him feel more alive than ever.

Or like when you finally had the time and intimacy to make love. And when he had you on his bed, knees apart and face buried on his pillow, he fisted your hair again, pulling your head back, because he needed to hear you moan his name while he filled you to the brim. Simon Riley was not a saint, but he would go through the hell his life has been again if it meant he got to experience this. Your cunt milking his dick, your smaller hand grabbing the wrist of his hand on your hip, your moans filling the room and when you looked back to him over your shoulder, his life got meaning and he kissed your lips.

Or like when you would cuddle, and he would do tiny braids on your hair he would forget to undo or tell you about and you would find out hours later when you would try to brush your hair and end up with massive knots. Walking to him ready to throw the brush at his head and you would find him hugging your pillow in his sleep, completely relaxed and content with himself.

Or like when years later, he brushed the hair sticking to your forehead by the sweat while you pushed his daughter to life. If he could take the pain away he would, but he knew you were the strongest woman in this world and could do it. He also knew you needed his comfort, so he moved his hand from your hair to grab your hand even if you crushed every bone inside.

Your hair was always his favourite, until your daughter was born. Because she had Simon's eyes, but she had your hair. And your hair was beautiful, but his little girl's hair was the proof of the love between Simon and you.

Simon Riley loved your hair, but he loved you more.

[thecuriousbeauty]

You're on your period- Harry Styles Blurb

Word count: 1178

Synopsis: Periods really suck. But not so much when you have a sweet boyfriend to take care of you. (FLUFF!)

You felt like you were going to cry as you opened the freezer and saw that you were out of ice cream. You were looking forward to binge eating that ice cream and watching your favorite show when you get back from work. You had a particularly long day, or maybe you just felt like that because of the piercing pain from your period cramps and your hormones being all over the place. 

You shut the door of the freezer with a sigh, dragging yourself to bed. You curled up, clutching your stomach as another bad wave of pain hits you. You forgot to take some pain meds when you were downstairs, and you were just too tired so you just layed there.Your boyfriend, who you now remember, had helped you finish the last of the ice cream when you had a movie night last week wasn’t home yet, so you phoned him.

“Hey baby! You back home?”, Harry answers and you pout, just wanting to crawl into his arms. “Harry..”

“What’s wrong, darling? Are you okay?” He doesn’t like it when your voice isn’t sounding peppy.

“Nooo..”, you draw out, making Harry frown  as he gets in his car, being done with the studio for the day. “Why is that, baby? Anything I can help with?”

“We ran out of ice cream..can you get some for me please?”, you ask softly, making Harry’s heart melt. He loved when you asked him to get things for you, even if it was something small. 

“Of course, love. You aren’t feeling too good, are you?”, he coos, joining the dots as he remembers the date. He keeps track of your periods too. 

“Nuh uh. I’m having a war with my uterus right now.”, you tell him, making him chuckle softly. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Anything else you need, baby? Stocked up for the week?”

You really have the sweetest boyfriend. “Yeah, I’m good. Just need you.”

“Aw, I’ll be home soon, my love. You get some rest, yeah?”

You hummed, closing your eyes already. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Oh, what flavor did you want?”

“Flavor?”, you smirk, and Harry laughs. “The ice cream flavor, silly.”

___________________________________

Harry didn’t just buy you ice cream. He got you your favorite packet of chips, some chocolate and some other snacks you liked. He kept it all in the kitchen and went upstairs to find you. You had dozed off while waiting for him, and he smiled as he took you in, walking to you quietly. He leaned down, gently brushing his fingers across your forehead, brushing away strands of your hair that fell onto your face. 

He thought not to wake you up and just slide into bed so he could give you a cuddle, but he spotted a stain on your shorts that would leak into the sheets soon. He didn’t mind, but he knew you would, so he gently kisses you awake with some kisses. 

You wake up to his feather soft kisses on your skin, a contrast to your aching stomach. You open your eyes and Harry gives you a smile. “How’re you doing, love?”

“Not good, it hurts.”, you mumble, sighing as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Oh, baby. You wanna take a warm shower, maybe? You’ve uh, got a bit of blood on your shorts.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked down to your shorts and around the bed. “Shit..I’m sorry babe, I fell asleep and didn’t realize-”

“-Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.”, he says, giving you his hand to help you out of bed. Thankfully, the blood hadn’t seeped into your sheets yet. “See, the sheets are fine. If it wasn’t, I’d change them, nothing to be sorry about.”, Harry tells you, and you smile softly, leaning to his side carefully, giving him a side hug. 

“I’ve got you some snacks too. After you’re feeling all fresh, we can cuddle up on the couch with a movie, hm?”

You nod, pressing your lips to his, giving him a kiss. “That sounds good.”

Harry lets you take care of your business and shower. He also got changed and set up all the food with a movie, bringing your fuzzy blanket to the couch. He got your heating pad and your pain meds ready as well.

You slouched over downstairs in one of Harry’s shirts and another pair of your shorts, making him smile at how cute you looked. Your hair was up in a messy bun, and you had no makeup on your face, but to him, you were gorgeous.

He opens his arms, and you fall into them, crawling onto his lap. “How was your day?”

“Good, good. Got some recording done, but I’ll probably do the same part again tomorrow. I missed you.”, he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, holding you close to him with arm as he leans over to grab the pain meds. “Here, take these, love.”

You swallowed them down with the water he gave you and rested your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warmth. 

While you tell him about your day, he slides the heating pad under your shirt to keep it over your tummy, before adjusting you on his lap and bringing the fuzzy blanket around you. One of his hands slips inside to rub your lower back in firm circles, with just the right amount of pressure, making you feel relaxed. When you told him about your ice cream craving, he immediately grabbed the tub and gave you the spoon so you can start digging in. 

“Thanks for all this, you’re the best.” You kiss him. 

“Only the best for you.”, he says, smiling as he watches you scoop some of the ice cream into your mouth and hum as the cold desert with the luscious chocolate hits just the right spots. “That good, huh?” Harry laughs.

“Yes! Here, I’m willing to share.”, You fed him some too. “Mm, that’s good.”, he agrees. You watch the movie for some time.

“Is the pain going away?”, he asks, pressing kisses to your hair and you smile, kissing his jaw. One of his hands still stayed on your back, and the other was playing with your hair. “Mhmm. You make it better.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Hate to see my baby in pain.” You blush, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. “I really like you, you know?”

He scoffs out a laugh, pinching your cheek. “You really like me? Give that ice cream back.” He moves his hand to your side, his fingertips dancing over your skin as he looks at with a glint in his eyes. He adores you. 

You giggle, going to grab his hand as it threatens to tickle you. “Correction! I really love you.”

“Hm, you better.” Harry nudges his nose against your cheek, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You laugh, and he takes your chin, giving you a kiss. “Cause I really love you too.”

_______________________________________________

Taglist:-- @livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777 (Lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

[the-fiction-witch]

Bracken Bunny P3

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Davos Blackwood Couple - Davos X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Bracken Rating - 18 + nudity / non con / eating out / orgasm / forced orgasm Word Count - 1178

Requested -

Anonymous asked: Bracken bunny part 3? Por favor? 👀👀👀👀👀 tiredsleepyhead asked: I hope there's another part of bracken bunny.... it's soooooooo good ..please say there's more Anonymous asked: Omg I need a part 3 to Bracken Bunny. The story is getting crazier each time I read it Anonymous asked: Whenever you can, can you please make a part 3 for Davos Blackwood? The story is so juicy, I gotta see if the family is gonna pay up or not 🤣🖤 fr tho if you’re down to make a part 3 I’ll be so happy. bruhxtechnoblade part 3 pleaseeee go-on-eat-shrooms Part 333³333 fortunatelyshadowypirate Plsssssssss part 3 hardkiddonut I need 1 million more updates of this😖 thornsandtulips Part 3 please 😔 liafiction we need part 3!! cant-control-the-crazy I'd read a novel of this, pleeeease do more?

I did my best to find a way to escape but found myself unable to even get out of the chains. But still, I tried no matter how much I failed, and after a good while the door opened and Davos returned. Immediately I tried to weasel my way out of the chains but he just smirked and came over grabbing my hip hard and digging his nails into my tender flesh,

"Miss me my little bracken bunny," he asked with a coy smile,

"No." I spat,

"Awww come now, I know you did," he smirked "I sent the raven, with a nice long list of... prices," he smirked,

"Prices?"

"For bits of you. I'm sure we'll go back and forth a few times to find out how much they are willing to pay, and just which bits they value most." He smirked, "I have a feeling..." He whispered, "You're cunt is going to be a hot bit of debate," He growled biting my ear lobe and slapping my ass,

"You're a bastard!" "You wish I was," he chuckled, "No, true born. And Heir to Raventree Hall... So, that makes me your lord."

"It makes you a fuck-" I began but he clamped a hand over my mouth,

"Quiet now," he demanded, he unlocked my chains and grabbed me by the neck forcing me down onto the bed on my back, meeting his smirking face, "...You know little bracken bunny, I've been sucking on my fingers since I left you," he growled taking my hands and pinning them to the sheets restaining them above my head with the chains, "you just taste so good. I think... I'm getting hungry," he purred taking my ankles in his hands and forcing my legs open as far as they could go so much it was painful, I squealed but he had no care for me, my pain or my dignity... or what little remained of it. "and I want to feast." He demanded licking his lips,

"Don't. You. Dare." I grit my teeth,

"I love how you still think you have a choice," He laughed down at me,

Davos wasted no time thereafter forcing my ankles over his shoulders, I tried to scream, squeal and squirm but that only amused him and made his sick smile grow, he dug his nails hard into my thighs flesh keeping them as wide as physically possible.

He first pressed tender kisses to my lower stomach and my mound, kissing slowly and delicately, he made a point to lick slowly over both lips before moving to kiss down my thighs nibbling on the skin as with each kiss he got more intense and violent, he reached my knee so swapped to the other leg and began the kisses down closer and closer to me with each harsh and erratic so much so when he reached my lips once more he bit my thigh hard enough to make me scream out, but still the offered me no mercy.

He rubbed his nose between my folds before he flicked out his tongue between them moving his flat tongue in a long and purposeful stroke from clit to core which caused him to salivate,

I whined and squirmed trying to escape his grip but he held me far too tight,

"Such a squirmy little bunny," he chuckled, "Why? You know what I'm going to do to you, you know I'll make you feel good."

"Let me go!" I screamed,

"Ohh I'll let you go, when your family pays for you. And not until." He growled swirling the taste around his tongue as he used his thumbs on my lips to force them as far as they'd go,

I felt so exposed, so utterly at his mercy, all I could do was scream and try to fight against his grip and try desperately not to let my body react the way it wanted to as he mercilessly began to lap at my clit, I screamed and begged for mercy but I was ignored,

"Davos Please!"

"Ah ah ah." He growled, "Properly my little bracken bunny."

"Lord Blackwood Please! Have mercy!" I begged,

He chuckled sealing his lips around my clit and sucking hard often swirling his tounge in circles as he works,

I screamed and whined, writhing against the restraints unable to control my body,

"Awww look at this, so wet." He growled, "Glistening," he growled licking my wetness from my folds, "A positively dripping cunt my little bracken bunny," He teased

"Fuck-" I gasped, "My - My lord-"

"Awww you're adorable," he growled as he slipped his tongue down and inside me,

"AHhhhhhh!" I screamed,

He smirked and fucked me with his tongue fast and hard with rapid thrusts,

"Please! Please no more Davos!"

"Humm alright, but I still wanna watch you cum," he growled returning to kissing and licking my clit with fluttering licks and gentle sucks,

I was already beyond overstimulation from earlier but he wouldn't take no for an answer, "Moan my name. When you cum..." He whispered against my core,

"...yes my lord,"

"No... My name." he growlers as he makes eye contact,

I nodded already feeling my orgasm building once more, the throbbing too hard to ignore as he worked on my swollen clit, his hand coming from my thigh to push his fingers knuckle deep inside me only making me scream even louder, throwing my head back, tears slipping from my eyes, and my body squirming trying to release this pleasure somehow as the pleasure builds, My fingers grip desperately to the sheets of the bed, my screams and moans somehow becoming the same, my hips buck up towards his lips which only makes him smirk more and nibble against my skin as he sucks,

he savoured my reactions and only moved his fingers at a faster pace making sure to keep his sucks and his thrusts at the same pace,

I felt my body tremble and quiver unable to hold back my body from squirting as I balanced on the very edge of thrill, until it suddenly hit, one thrust of his fingers timed with a suck on my clit and that was it my whole body flooded with pleasure, I squirted and squeezed around his fingers, my whole body trembling and shaking as the shockwaves rush though my vision slightly blurring,

"DAVOS!" I screamed,

His eyes met mine as he gradually slowed to let me ride it out, my body convulsing and jumping with the aftershocks but he made sure to milk every last second for me until my body went limp and I gasped desperately, "Perfect my little bracken bunny," he smiled licking his chin where my squirt dripped down his face, "...Too perfect," He growled,

I gasped a little confused barely any energy left as I looked at him,

He smirked and kneeled on the bed with his head high as he unlaced his britches and pulled out his long stiff cock already quivering and dripping with precum. "Look what you've done to me little bunny," He gasped, "You were far too perfect for me... now your lord needs attending too," He growled, "So... Come here little bunny." 

Commissions here

[prettybrownelf]

i saw you were looking for requests a few months back and if you still are i love your bucky fics and just want anything else bucky x masc reader because i feel like hardly anyone writes them!! maybe otk spanking involved? 👀

Brat Taming

Non MLM/NBLM DNI

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x FTM! Reader

Summary- You and Bucky have a small argument in the kitchen. he thinks you need a lesson

Word Count- 1178

Content Warnings- AFAB Genitalia, OTK Spanking, Degradation, Praise, Overstimulation, Aftercare

You wouldn't say your a brat. Brat is too strong of a word. Your just a bit head-strong and…stubborn.

Bucky would say otherwise. He’d say your a brat who likes to make him mad for your own enjoyment.

Thats how this argument in the kitchen started.

“I’m not a brat, Buck. You just dont like being told no.” You’d been cleaning the kitchen when Bucky decided to confront you about ‘how you’ve been acting’.

Bucky rolls his eyes as he stays leaning against the kitchen counter, watching your every move as you clean. “Its not that. You’ve been leaving me on read, giving me the cold shoulder, your being a brat and you know it.” Bucky’s gruff voice sends a tiny shiver up your spine as you keep your back to him. “Oh, so your mad cause your not my center of attention?” He rolls his eyes at you as he moves next to your side. “Thats not it and you know it. I dont need attention.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you casually walk your way to the couch, Bucky following close behind. “Sure you dont, Buck. Thats why you follow me around like a puppy.” You can feel Bucky’s glare on the back of your head as you sit on the couch. “Im not a puppy.” Bucky snarls.

You try to stifle your giggle as Bucky sits next to you, huffing and puffing. “Quit huffing.” You manage to get out. Bucky rolls his eyes as he looks over at the tv, his words a muttered breath. “I should teach you lesson.”

Your ears perk up.

“What was that, Buck?” Testing Bucky’s patience is a fun pass time, especially when hes like this. Bucky’s eyes immediately snap to your face, his voice hasn't lost its gruff as he speaks. “I said i should teach you a lesson.” A smirk crawls to your face as you playfully try to crawl into Bucky’s lap.

Before you can speak your words are cut off by Bucky’s strong arms pushing you down, your stomach lays over his legs, your knees digging into the couch cushion below you. Trying to push yourself up fails as Bucky pushes you back down, your arms laying next to your head. Bucky’s voice sends a wave of heat into your lower stomach as you feel his rough, calloused hand softly circle your back.

“If you wanna be a brat, i’ll treat you like a brat.” Shivers run over your body as Bucky ever so slowly slips your pants off. You try to move your head to see what hes doing, only to have Bucky roughly push your head back into the couch. “Stay still.” He growls.

The air is still for what feels like forever. Your about to say something when a stinging slap hits your ass. The breath in your lungs suddenly disappears as you try to take in the shock in your body.

Bucky, however, doesn’t give you much time to recover, as he bring his hand back down. A small whine comes out of your throat from the pain, though you cant deny the bit of pleasure beginning to rise more and more. “You wanna be a fucking brat?” Bucky’s rough voice tickles the skin of your ear as he whispers to you, bringing his hand back down. “Ill show you what happens to a fucking brat.” Your breathing gets faster as Bucky continues to spank you. Tiny tears form in your eyes as your grip on the couch tightens.

A small chuckle from Bucky sends an embarrassed heat to your face. “Aww, is my little brat okay?” Bucky asks, sarcasm dripping off every word as he slams his hand back down, harder this time. “Maybe i should be rougher so your learn your lesson.” He says, a small smirk on his face.

All you can do is whine out small pleas and moans, feeling your ass getting more and more red.

After a few moments, the air stills. The feeling of Bucky’s hand softly rubbing your bruised, red skin makes your relax a bit, enjoying the feeling of being touched like this.

Bucky’s soft movements continue as he leans back down to your ear. “Color, baby?” Your voice is a bit hoarse, but you manage to get out a small “Green.” Making Bucky smile.

You feel Bucky slowly move your legs so your in the doggy position. Bucky’s voice is still soft as he rubs your red skin. “You look so handsome like this, puppy.”

A small mewl falls from your tongue at the pet name as you hear Bucky pull the zipper of his jeans down. You cant help but arch your back, pressing your now red ass against Bucky’s hips. His chuckle can be heard from behind you as you feel him gently rub your stinging skin, massaging it gently as he slowly slides his tip against your dripping cunt.

You feel his hand move from your ass to your hip, gripping tightly as he suddenly thrusts into you. The moan that comes out of your mouth is loud, loud enough for bucky to slam your face into the couch. “Keep that pretty voice down, pup, or do you want the neighbors to know your a little slut?” All you can do is whine into the cushions as Bucky continues to move his hips. You feel him hit a specific spot inside you, making your legs ark slightly. His grip on your hip gets tighter as he somehow manages to speed up, making small tears of pleasure form in the corner of your eyes.

The feeling of Bucky slamming against your body with his own is making your brain turn to mush as you feel yourself suddenly sum. Eyes rolled back, your legs shaking, Bucky doesn’t stop. Instead, he slams into you even harder bending over so he can prop himself up with one hand and reach his other hand under your trembles, moaning body.

One of Bucky’s rough fingers finds your clit, matching pace with his hips as he rubs circles around the sensitive bud. Bucky’s voice whispering in your ear isn't helping your oncoming second orgasm at either. As you grip the cushions and moan loudly under him, his breath tickles your ear.

“You look so good like this, puppy. Trembling like a little bitch under me.” Bucky’s pace begins to slow to a deep, rhythmic thrust. Your breathing is finally able to return to somewhat normal as Bucky continues to whisper in your ear, his finger continuing to circle around your clit.

He leaves small pecks on your neck as his voice continues to whisper small praises in your ear. your legs tremble beneath you as your eyes slowly roll back again. Bucky’s motions dont stop as he helps you through your orgasm. His low voice makes your face hot. “Such a good boy.” Bucky gives a small smile as he kisses your forehead tenderly. His strong arms wrap around your body as he moves you to lay on his chest, gently rubbing your back.

[songsofadelaide]

As a child of one of the Kingdom's noble families, you were subject to your family's many plans to maintain its standing in society. At every tail end of the Lone Moon since you turned six, when winter wraps Faerghus in its tightest and most frigid embrace, you would find yourself in the Dukedom of Fraldarius, under the watchful but caring gaze of Uncle Rodrigue, or that was what he encouraged you to call him. He said his eldest son already had a match, his betrothed a lady of a noble house too. Rodrigue wished Felix to forge the same warm friendship and companionship that Glenn and Ingrid already had... with someone. Someone he would come to love in the future. Rodrigue silently hoped that it would be you.

"...a love match," the older man said, his voice fading in the background as Felix, a boy dressed in the distinct Fraldarius blue, stepped out from behind his mother's skirts at her gentle urging.

"Say hello, cub," the lady of the house said in a tone so dulcet that it made the heat rise to your face. The boy's shy brown eyes met yours and somehow your young heart figured that you two could make things work. From what you remember, your parents were a love match— an extraordinary one, the kind many thought wouldn't work out but eventually did.

"Hello," you broke the silence with a single greeting and a smile that told him, let's work things out. "Shall we make our New Year's resolutions together?"

And every year, by the fireplace, next to his parents' blanketed feet, you and Felix whispered your resolutions for the new year in each other's ears, both of you looking forward to the fresh set of pages in a storybook that was yours to fill out and create.

"I want my swordsmanship to improve..." "I want to read more books..." "I want to get taller still..." "I want to get better at casting magic..."

In 1177, Felix stopped making resolutions, which wasn't all surprising.

Felix had no idea where to put this grief. You coaxed him out of his room at his mother's behest, but he had no words for you. When you held him in your arms as best you could, he barely moved himself.

You were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said, and not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

In 1178, when Prince Dimitri unlocked a certain bloodlust whilst suppressing an insurrection in west Faerghus, you were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour.

In 1180, you entered the Officers Academy along with the other scions of the Kingdom's noble houses. As Felix grew into a swordsman of exceptional skill, he also kept you at an arm's length away, but again, that did not surprise you at all. You were a distraction to him, more or less, and he would appreciate you more if you showed yourself less to him. It was then you realised that he always sought you out at his own pace, that he desired your presence still, but only on his call.

"It's fine. It doesn't have to be me, as long as you're happy, Felix." "No," he hastily grabbed your hand. "It has to be you."

Felix brought you home with him when the Officers Academy closed its doors due to the internal strife simultaneously occurring in Faerghus, Adrestia and Leicester. It was then he became Duke Fraldarius, the Shield of Faerghus, and you, the lady of his house. When the war gong was struck, you stood by your husband rather than shying away from the fighting. Being Felix's assigned healer during your short stay at the Officers Academy granted you certain synchronicity with him. The two of you worked seamlessly beside each other, and he moved in complete confidence that you would have his back if no one else did. 

The war against Adrestia raged on for months, until it converged to a year, and it felt like you were the only one keeping tabs on the days that passed. The calluses in your hands thickened like the snow that usually blanketed Fraldarius this time of the year.

This time of the year...

"What are you doing?"

Your reverie was broken by your husband's query. It was still so odd to think that you two were married now, even though that was exactly what Rodrigue— your father-in-law— wanted from the start.

"Almost lost track of time because of how long this war's been dragging," you shrugged at him. "Happy New Year. Or not. We'll probably be asleep at the turning of the new moon."

Felix caught the quick twinkle in your eyes, his lips softening to a small smile that caught you off-guard. He stepped into your space and slipped his gloved hand in yours, pulling you further into the privacy of his quarters and straight into his arms.

"Felix?..."

"I want to be a better husband to you."

His voice was hushed to a whisper, and you could only blink to yourself as he held you much tighter. His breath was warm against your neck and it was there you noticed just how fast his heart was beating.

"I..." You started, only for a gentle laugh to leave your lips. "I want to be a better lady of the house."

He chuckled in relief when you returned his embrace, his hair coming undone from its ribbon just in time as you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Happy New Year, Duke Fraldarius."

Felix returned your gesture in kind, his lips stealing the warmth of your breath not long after. He still can't believe he played right into his father's hands the moment the old man introduced you to him— one of the very few things he is truly thankful for. Now he gets to call you his, he gets to protect you as part of his home, and he is yours, too.

"Happy New Year, my wife."

[cluelessteam]

If you do Narnia fics, can you do one about Edmund Pevensie with !enemy reader? Ty <3

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much for the request! You are my second one and I really hope you enjoy this. This is a oneshot fanfic but if you want me to do a series for this prompt, I will do it just for you!

{~Between Shadows and Steel~}

Summary: In the midst of a fierce battle, you confront your sworn enemy, Edmund Pevensie, determined to end the war between your people and Narnia. But as your swords clash, Edmund’s unexpected words and actions challenge everything you thought you knew about him—and yourself. With the chaos of war surrounding you, a moment of vulnerability leads to an undeniable connection, forcing you to question whether you’re truly enemies or something more.

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1178

The battlefield stretched out before you like an endless ocean of chaos. Warriors clashed with brutal force, their weapons ringing in the air, the ground beneath them soaked in the blood of the fallen. The cries of the wounded mingled with the roar of battle, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the chilling shriek of a centaur as it fell to a barrage of arrows.

You stood on the edge of the fray, your chest heaving, sword in hand, watching as the skirmish raged on. In the midst of the melee, a single figure caught your eye. He moved like the wind—swift, agile, and utterly determined.

Edmund Pevensie.

The Just King of Narnia. And your enemy.

To you, he represented everything you’d fought against for years. Narnia’s expansion had forced your people into a corner, and you had sworn to resist. To fight until there was nothing left. But as you watched him now, cutting through your soldiers with practiced precision, doubt flickered in the depths of your mind.

You hated him—or so you told yourself. Yet, every time you crossed paths with Edmund, it felt as though there was something more beneath the surface. Something that made your heart pound in ways you couldn’t explain.

You gripped your sword tightly, the leather of the hilt biting into your palm as you steeled yourself. Today, you would confront him. Today, you would end this, one way or another.

With a deep breath, you charged toward him, weaving through the chaos, your eyes fixed on his form. Your footsteps were light but swift, your sword slicing through any obstacle in your path. The moment you reached him, you swung your blade, aiming for his unguarded back.

But Edmund moved faster than you anticipated. As if sensing your presence, he spun around, his sword meeting yours with a resounding clang. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

“You again,” he muttered, his voice strained with exertion, but not without a hint of recognition.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you shot back, pushing against his blade with all your strength.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something that was neither fear nor anger, but something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m not. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then you should’ve been ready for me.”

The two of you danced across the battlefield, swords clashing with each strike, the sound echoing in the din of war. He was a skilled fighter, and you found yourself struggling to keep up with his speed. But you refused to back down. You had trained for this moment—prepared yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

Yet, as you fought, there was something different about this battle. Each time your swords connected, there was a spark in the air—an electricity you couldn’t ignore. Every time you stepped closer to him, it felt like the world was closing in, leaving only the two of you in its wake.

“You don’t have to do this,” Edmund said suddenly, his voice low, as if he could speak to you alone amidst the chaos.

You growled, frustration building in your chest. “And you don’t have to keep pretending you care!”

He blocked your next strike with ease, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

That stopped you for a moment. Your sword hovered in the air as you stared at him, the words catching you off guard. His expression softened slightly, and you noticed that he wasn’t attacking as aggressively as he could have. In fact, it seemed as though he was holding back.

“You don’t know me,” you snapped, stepping back to regain your composure.

He sheathed his sword, making you pause. “I know enough.”

Before you could retort, a nearby explosion rocked the ground, sending dust and debris into the air. The shockwave threw you both backward, and you hit the ground with a grunt. For a moment, your vision blurred, the chaos around you fading to a dull roar.

When the dust settled, you found yourself staring up at the sky, dazed. But then, a shadow fell over you, and you blinked up to see Edmund standing above you, his hand outstretched.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice steady despite the battle still raging around you.

You glared at him, but the strength in your arms had fled. Reluctantly, you took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. His grip was firm, and for a moment, neither of you moved, your hands lingering together a little too long.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, breathless. Your heart pounded, but it wasn’t just from the exertion of battle.

Edmund’s expression softened. “Because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

The words hit you harder than any sword could. You stared at him, confused and conflicted. “We’re enemies,” you whispered. “You’re supposed to want to see me fall.”

His hand remained on yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. “Maybe we don’t have to be enemies anymore,” he said softly. “We’ve fought for so long, but what if there’s another way?”

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but his words—his gaze—cut through your defenses. There was a sincerity in his eyes, a raw honesty that you hadn’t been prepared for. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if he was right.

Edmund stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper now. “You don’t have to fight this war alone. You don’t have to carry this burden anymore.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he inched nearer. The battlefield, the chaos around you—all of it seemed to fade away. There was only him. And for the first time, you realized how much you had been fighting against yourself, not just him.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Because… I think I’ve been fighting against myself too,” he admitted. “I’ve hated this war as much as you do.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit, but there was none. Just vulnerability. A rawness you hadn’t expected to see in him.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, your breath mingling with his. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then, slowly, cautiously, he closed the distance between you.

His lips met yours in a tentative kiss, soft and warm, like a promise. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you forgot everything—the war, the pain, the years of hatred. All that mattered was this. Him.

When you finally pulled back, your breath was shallow, and his eyes were filled with a mix of relief and something deeper. “We don’t have to keep fighting,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

For the first time in years, you let yourself believe him.

[graysparrowao3]

The Bet

Just a cute little something featuring Rolan, Cal, and Lia. :)

Summary: Cal tries to sneak out of Ramazith's Tower for a romantic encounter and is caught by Lia, who has been having romantic liaisons of her own. They both come to an agreement and must avoid the suspicions of Rolan.

Words: 1178

Tags: Fluff, Cute, Family, Siblings.

Link on AO3: The Bet

[abbygrabska]

Twelfth Doctor Smut ~ Territorial

For: @toastvogel Plot: Maybe 12 sees the need to "mark his territory" after someone (alien,human, doesn't matter) get a bit too friendly with reader? I really just want to let you write what gets into your mind. As long as it's got 12 in it, I'm happy with everything ;) Tags: biting, belly bulge, hand, size kink

Word Count: 1178

Pulled all of this outta my pussy

You’re excited as you get dressed, you’re going to a Hollywood party in the 60’s with the Doctor.

You weren’t sure who the host is, but the Doctor seemed to know everyone, so it didn’t really matter.

You decide on a dark blue dress with stars littered all over it, a matching necklace and earrings, paired with silver heels. Your eye makeup matches the dress, and your lips have a clear coat of gloss covering them. 

Just as you finish applying the lip gloss, the Doctor knocks on the door frame.

“Come in.” You call out.

He walks in. He’s wearing a black suit, no tie in sight, though ties never were this face’s thing.

He stares at you, a strange look on his face.

You shift nervously under his gaze, “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He shifts his eyes away from you, “You ready to go?” “Yeah.” You stand, leaving the vanity and walking towards him.

He offers an arm for you to hold. 

You grin, hooking elbows with him, “Let’s go!”

He smiles, leading you out of the wardrobe and into the console room.

The Tardis has been parked on the lawn, near the fenceline of the property.

As you walk across the grass, you realize where you are.

Your grip on the Doctor’s arm tightens in excitement, “Are we at Marilyn Monroe’s house?”

“Yes. Funny story, I accidentally married her once. Thankfully she won’t recognize me.” He gestures to his face, “I’ve regenerated since then.”

“Good for you.”

The two of you join the party seamlessly.

At some point the Doctor wanders off, you don’t question it, he does that occasionally.

“That dress sure is something.” You hear a Southern accent say from behind you. You turn around, it’s Elvis Presley.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile, fluffing the skirt slightly. He pulls out a cigarette, offering you one. 

You shake your head, politely denying it.

“Suit yourself.” He lights one, taking a drag before exhaling, “I don’t reckon I’ve seen you before. Who’d you come here with?” “My friend, the Doctor. He’s around here somewhere.” You glance around the backyard. “Why don’t I keep you company until he comes back?” He smirks, offering a hand.

You hesitate, nerves filling you.

“Is there a problem here?” You hear the Scottish lilt of the Doctor from behind you and relax.

“This is your friend?” Elvis asks.

“Date actually.” The Doctor corrects, putting a hand on your waist.

Elvis chuckles, “Sweetheart, he’s old enough to be your great-granddaddy. Why don’t you and I go somewhere and have a little fun?” The Doctor’s grip tightens on your waist, “What would Priscilla think of you having ‘fun’ with another woman?”

Elvis frowns, pulling his cigarette from his mouth, “How’d you know ‘bout Priscilla?”

“Same way everyone else does.” The Doctor responds vaguely, “Ready to go?” He looks at you.

You nod, and he starts to lead you away.

“Hold it now.” Elvis starts to walk after you two.

He grabs your arm.

The reaction is instant, the Doctor turns and punches Elvis in the face, knocking him over.

You hear several people gasp as the Doctor takes you back to the Tardis.

The doors shut and he pulls you back against his chest.

“Doctor?” He is silent, grabbing your hair and pulling your head to the side, he presses his mouth to your neck and bites down.

A cry escapes you, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure everyone will know who you belong to next time.” He grabs your waist and spins you around, throwing you over his shoulder.

You gasp, “What’s gotten into you?!”

He starts walking through the Tardis, ignoring your question as he takes your shoes off.

He kicks open a door and enters, throwing you on the bed.

You look at him bewildered as he crawls on top of you, bunching your skirt up at your waist.

He grabs your underwear and rips them apart.

Heat floods your face as he shoves two fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

You do, taken aback.

He pulls his fingers out and starts rubbing at your clit with his thumb, sliding his fingers into your hole.

You gasp at the intrusion, going to grab his arm, only for his free hand to come up and pin your arms above your head.

He looks down at you, an angry look in his eyes, “No touching without permission.”

His thumb rubs tight circles into the flesh as his fingers fuck you.

A coil forms in your stomach, tightening rapidly as his fast pace continues.

Your eyes start to shut, a hand grips your face, your eyes shoot open.

“You’re going to look at me when I make you cum.” He grins wolfishly, sliding a third finger into your warmth.

You let out breathy pants, an orgasm rapidly approaching.

His eyes bore into yours as tears form.

Moans escape you as your walls tighten around his fingers, cumming loudly

Once your cunt releases his fingers he pulls them out, licking them clean.

He stands, stripping himself of his suit coat, unbuttoning his shirt, and unbuckling his belt.

He pushes his trousers and underwear down until his cock slaps against his stomach.

He pumps his cock slowly, flipping you over on your stomach., “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it, like a good little girl.”

He lines up with your cunt, pushing in until he’s balls deep.

You can feel him in your stomach.

The Doctor slides his hand underneath you, his hand flat against the subtle bulge, pushing down, watching you squirm, “Oh, am I too big for your poor little pussy?” He taunts, pulling out until the bulge disappears before pushing back in roughly.

You cry out.

He grins against your neck, biting down.

He pistons his hips against you, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.

A second orgasm is forming quickly in the pit of your stomach, walls starting to clench around the Doctor’s cock.

“Your poor little pussy. Squeezing me like a vice, it can barely take my big cock, can it?” He taunts, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slowly, “I’m so deep you’ll feel me for days after I’m done. And believe me, I’m not stopping until my cum is dripping out of you.” His thrusts get rougher, fingers rubbing faster, “Everyone is going to know who you belong to when I’m finished.” 

His hips hit your ass at a bruising pace.

“Doctor!” You cry, “It hurts.” “Oh, boo hoo.” He shoves your head against the bed, the frame shaking as he fucks you.

Your walls tighten around him, cumming with a violent moan.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head up, pressing a searing kiss to your mouth.

His hips press into yours firmly as he shoots inside your womb, continuing to fuck you through his orgasm.

Your thighs tremble as he rubs your clit hard and fast, giving you a third orgasm, screaming into his mouth.

His thrusts slow to a stop, body collapsing onto yours.

Your eyes slowly close, exhausted.

[ratthumbsup]

Title: “but the road winds, i rewind”

Fandom: From (TV 2022)

Categories: Teen And Up Audiences, F/M, No Archive Warnings Apply

Complete

Word Count: 1178

Relationships: Jade Herrera/Tabitha Matthews

Characters: Jade Herrera, Tabitha Matthews

For a moment she considers giving in, but she can barely look at him. As much as a part of her wants to stay and dissect everything with Jade, the thought of actually confirming it's all true makes her stomach drop. She doesn’t know what they’ll find if they start comparing notes. It’s already too much. Or, Jade and Tabitha have a lot to catch each other up on, but they can't agree on when. Immediately post-Season 3 Episode 10.

here is my jade and tabitha being weird and poorly coping just post-s3e10 fic.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 12. New Questions

Summary: Whether intentional or not, Malleus and Lilia’s words, paired with the fact Silver was living in a vampire clan, were giving rise to a whole slew of new questions for you. Some of which came a little bit too close to the matter of your relationship with Vil and what it meant for you, for comfort.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1178

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

In no way had I been prepared for Malleus’s words, which continued to bounce around in my mind even now that I was home.

I’d left not long after my meeting with Malleus, deciding to call it an early night much to the horned vampire’s amusement. 

The others had accepted my decision with very few questions. Only Sebek seemed truly perplexed and even concerned. He hadn’t pursued the matter, though after Lilia had told him to let me be and I’d reassured him that I was just tired. 

But something about the way the short man had stared at me with a knowing expression made me wonder if he somehow knew about Malleus’s offer.  But I didn’t really see how he could have unless the two of them had planned it.

And maybe Malleus had planned his offer.

After all, in many ways him offering to turn me into a vampire wasn’t that odd. Other vampires had made the same offer in an attempt to bargain for just a taste of my blood.

What had made it so odd with Malleus, though, was that he didn’t seem to do it out of any interest in my blood. Instead, he seemed to mean it as a kindness, though perhaps in a mildly evil way. Like it had just been another way of him offering his assistance.

To him, it had possibly seemed like a natural progression in the conversation. Especially since he’d just been talking about how fleeting and fragile me and Silver seemed to him.

It made me wonder if he’d made the same offer to Silver. If he had, Silver had either turned him down or responded as I had, with confusion and leaving the matter open-ended.

Truthfully speaking though, I’d had no idea how to respond to his offer. It had taken me aback, but it also seemed like a little bit too much of a coincidence after I’d just talked to Lilia about my place in the world of vampires.

I shook my head slightly, letting myself curl up on my couch and at least attempt to relax for once rather than pursuing some crazed vampire, evaluating a clan, or anything else.

I felt a smile curve across my face, though, as the singular thought of how Vil might react if he knew about Malleus’s offer entered my head.

I didn’t know exactly when I’d reached the point that I relied so heavily on Vil, but the fact that he came to mind so quickly was telling.

And Vil had become a source of comfort. The first vampire I’d befriended and one of my closest allies, along with the rest of the Pomefiore clan. 

It was true that I’d made friends with other vampires in other clans, but somehow it was always still Vil that came to mind when I considered who I would go to if I needed help.

And in some ways, it was silly. After all, Rook was the one who’d once been a vampire hunter and who’d trained me as well as being a long-time friend. Leona was the one who’d helped me fight against crazed vampires three times, even if the first time hadn’t been exactly planned. And Epel was the one whom I’d been friends with and worked with before he’d changed. 

But even considering them, it was still Vil that I relied on the most, and maybe it was because he’d been guarding me in his own way ever since he’d met me.

My fingers found the cross that hung around my neck, a constant reminder of his kindness and willingness to help me even though my job involved me killing his kind.

I couldn’t tell him about Malleus’s offer. Or rather, I didn’t want to, since I feared the potential repercussions. I didn’t want him misunderstanding Malleus’s offer and losing his temper or doing something that might end poorly.

After all, Lilia’s look had been a little too pointed when he’d said that everything would be fine so long as no one took anything the wrong way. 

I had no doubt he’d meant Vil considering the rumors that circulated around about the two of us.

And I couldn’t hide behind Vil forever anyways. Especially since I’d decided that I would protect him in my own way. That was why I was trying so hard to solve this entire mess involving the numbers of insane vampires after all.

I could say now that from what I’d seen, been told, and deduced, Diasomnia certainly didn’t seem to be the root of the issue, even if they struck me as more of a classic sort of vampires.

The matter of Silver living with them was enough proof that they weren’t the sort to attack mortals willy-nilly without even considering Malleus’s reaction to the vampire who’d threatened me. And if they were against the attacking of mortals, them causing the influx of insane vampires who attacked mortals without a care in the world and either murdered them or turned them simply didn’t make any sense.

I could also say from reading through the Diasomnia library, with Malleus’s help, that there wasn’t much in the way of historical records that said anything about insane vampires, much less a large number of them.

But my time with the Diasomnia clan had led to something else as well. Whether they’d intended or not, Lilia and Malleus’s words paired with Silver’s existence as a person who, like me, attracted vampires but remained mortal despite living in the world of vampires had given rise to new questions.

Silver had made it this long, so apparently it wasn’t impossible for me to remain mortal despite having entered into the world of vampires, but was that the right choice?

Vil’s face seemed to flash, unbidden, through my mind, and I frowned.

I had wondered it before, but had Vil been alone before now?

He hadn’t been a member of a clan, and though he’d apparently been friends with Rook, Rook had also stated that he needed a friend. 

If I grew old and died, what would happen to him? He had a clan now, so he wouldn’t be alone, but….

I shook my head, refusing to let my mind go there. Just because Vil was beyond important to me didn’t mean I held the same importance to him, and now wasn’t the time to think about such things anyway. It wasn’t like I was the protagonist of some cheesy vampire film.

And debating becoming a vampire…. It was ridiculous. I would essentially be choosing to die after doing my very best to survive vampires’ interest in me. 

Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a place in the world of the night. For better or worse, I was the vampire hunter of this area, which was, at least for now, an important job that had to be filled.

Right now, I needed to focus on the situation at hand. The mystery of the insane vampires and Crowley’s control over me.

I could worry about me and Vil later…..

If you would like to more

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[ao3feed-kathony]

fake boyfriend

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/58358353 by allthelav Kate Sharma and Anthony Bridgerton meet at The Eras Tour concert. Anthony agrees to be Kate's fake boyfriend. Words: 1178, Chapters: 1/7, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Eloise Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Taylor Swift's "The Eras Tour", Fake/Pretend Relationship, Light Angst, Fluff read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/58358353

[requestomaestro]

Cowboy hat rule

Jack Daniels (or any other cowboy) x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: the aftermath of taking a Cowboys hat Rating: smut, almost no plot

Word count: 1178

With all the smoke and people trying to talk over each other the atmosphere in the bar feels steamy. Just like others, filled with liquid courage girls, she’s doing her best stealing the attention of a man. Not just any man, a handsome cowboy who without even trying makes her nervous like she’s a teenager.

At this point, innocent touches are standard. Lips getting so close to the delicate elope, so the sentence doesn’t get lost in the loud bar. Or hands placed gently on the lower back when passing by. They don’t have to do that. They could scream or go around the table but they both feel the unapprehended need to be as close as possible. Closer than the fabric of their clothes.

The cowboy compliments her dress which earns him a smile and a spin from the girl. If she moved a liter faster he could see her underwear. Or maybe she doesn’t wear any. A thought that now can’t escape his mind. She wants to compliment him too, but truth be told she doesn’t like his clothes. They cower his broad shoulders which is a crime. She reaches for the hat but he stops her in the middle of that action.

"Be careful. If you take a cowboy’s hat, you’ll have to ride him” he warns her in a deep voice.

‘’That’s a rule?’’ she legitimately is surprised when he nods ‘’yes” but this state doesn’t last long. There’s something about him. Making her want to do things usually she doesn’t do. Making her desperate for any of his attention. In a crowded bar, there’s no space to figure out what it is. She has to take him somewhere where they could explore each other.

Without hesitation, she looks him deeply in the eyes and once again reaches for his cowboy hat. This time he doesn’t stop her. She’s a big girl, she knows what she’s doing. Still, the pupils in his eyes get wider at her action. When the hat, his hat, takes a place on her head he’s ready to fuck her right there. Luckily for him, she already has a plan.

‘’You drove here, right?”

---------

Even with the thick fabric of her jeans, she can feel his hands digging into her cheeks. There’s so much power and strength in the movement but it doesn’t hurt at all. He must have done it many times before. Every grind sends a shiver down her spine, making her more impatient to have any skin-to-skin contact.

She goes for the checkered shirt, throwing it somewhere to find later on one of the seats. It gives her nothing. He’s wearing a black top underneath it. A curse escapes her mouth when she tries to pull the fabric out of his pants. It makes him laugh quietly. So desperate, so pretty and needy. All of this is his for now.

His hand grabs both of her wrists, stopping her trying to make him less covered. Slowly, with one hand, he undoes the belt with some ridiculously big buckle. Her, now almost all black, eyes following every move. When the metal hits the floor, she can see a glimpse of a bulge forming underneath the denim. Mentally she’s preparing herself for a ride like she never had before.

It comes faster than she suspected. In the limited space of the old truck, he manages to lay her down on the backseats. There’s no awkwardness or wobble in his actions. Such a little detail, but it makes her even more excited. He also has little trouble removing her pants which makes her a little embarrassed that she couldn’t deal with him earlier. Luckily she doesn't have a single moment to overthink this. Wet lips and the delicate pinch of his mustache are a perfect distraction.

The higher he gets the more she has to stop herself from hurrying him. The walk from the bar to the truck seemed long, it’s nothing compared to the trail he’s taking now. But he gets there, exactly where she wants him. Only now that he tears her underwear she feels like he’s desperate for her too.

There’s no hesitation in his actions. He practically dives into her pussy, drinking all that she’s unwittingly willing to give him. All of her just for him.

‘’Fuck, don’t stop!” every sentence that leaves her mouth makes him go faster. It’s a never-ending circle until she lets out a scream that someone in the bar for sure could have heard. Delicate kisses on her thighs are too much. But she has no strength to tell him to stop, the blissful explosion took over her body. Slowly she opens her eyes and it is then that she notices that all the windows are steamy.

They’re just looking at each other. Two strangers who’ve met just a few hours before, hypnotized by each other. She can’t stop herself and slowly starts moving towards him, building the anticipation. They finally touch again, her hand on his shoulder when she swings her leg over his lap.

Now, they’re exactly where they should have been. The promise made earlier is happening at that moment. They kiss and it’s slower than any kiss they’ve shared but it’s also more passionate. When lips touch slowly, soaking the moment, it doesn't feel like a one-time thing for any of them.

Once again he guides her hips, addicting her to the feeling she can’t take enough of. It feels perfect and at the same time not enough. She reaches between their bodies and within a moment she’s full of him. The truck is filled with sounds of their pleasure. Quiet moans that couldn’t be kept inside if they’ve tried. Kisses and breaths on the neck add to the addictive feeling. It’s slow, it’s intimate, it’s so much in the best way possible. Until he starts pumping into her faster. Somebody heard them for sure. Maybe steam has covered the windows but the sounds of their pleasure are too loud to hide. The world could be ending and they wouldn’t notice as they start to move together even faster.

She might be screaming at this point, but it doesn't matter. The hot coil growing in her is the only thing she cares about. He comes first, filling her with as much as he can. As his orgasm slowly dies he has a perfect view. Her body stretched right in front of him. Delicious breast bouncing as she chases her own pleasure. He still guides her and adds to it by kissing every inch of her skin he can. It doesn't take much. Few circles around her nipple and she’s screaming even louder.

There’s not a lot of space but somehow with the explosion inside of her, she’s afraid to fall. She holds to his broad shoulder for her life as she slowly gains consciousness.

They sit body to body as their breaths return to normal pace. Once again their stares connect and there’s that unspoken agreement that this wasn't the last time they’ve seen each other.

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

Too Scared to Sleep

Too Scared to Sleep (Thomas x Minho)

Word Count: 1178 words

Warnings: SPOILERS, GORE, BLOOD!! hallucinations, kissing, cuddling

Summary: Since they reached the safe haven without Chuck, Teresa and Newt, Minho and Thomas haven’t been able to sleep.

(Alright, clearing up some stuff, I know nobody asked for this, but I read a request from @minewtiscute wrong, my brain thinking I remembered it was Minho x Thomas when it was Minho x Newt. I spent 5 hours on this, and only just realised. so after clearing up the fact I can’t read, please enjoy a fanfic that nobody asked for. I’m sorry to @minewtiscute and I will be doing your request next!)

(Also if nobody enjoys this, I’ll replace it with the new one!)

Thomas’ eyes snap open and he jerks into sitting position. the sky outside the window is dark, and the boy is in no way surprised.

it wasn’t like it was unusual for him to wake several times in the night.

yes, they might have made it to the safe haven, but no matter how safe they were it wouldn’t stop the nightmares.

it wouldn’t stop cranks looming from the shadows, inhuman screams issuing from the air itself, or ghostly, hollow eyed versions of his dead friends, shouting accusations at him for their deaths.

Teresa, with crushed limbs, torn, bloodied clothes and the grey powder of rock tinging her black hair. Chuck, with wide gaping eyes and mouth, a patch of scarlet on his chest, spilling all over his shirt. Newt, with black veins climbing his body, large oversized pupils, and a bloody mass staining the side of his head and splattering his hair. all blaming him for their passing.

and to tell the truth, he believed them. no matter what Minho and the others said, he can’t help thinking, if he had pushed Chuck out of the way, if he had noticed the rubble so Teresa wouldn’t have had to save him, if he hadn’t pulled the trigger that ended Newt’s life.

whenever he confided this to Minho he would tell him he couldn’t possibly have known that the bullet or rubble were coming, that if he hadn’t killed his friend, then the boy would have found a way to do it himself.

Thomas looks over to Minho now. he lays curled in the bed they shared, a slight crease on his forehead, and frown on his face. no doubt he was reliving horrifying scenes as well.

his eyes are squeezed shut and he keeps tossing and turning, groaning quietly and drawing his knees closer to his chin.

Thomas shifts closer to the boy and gently touches his shoulder, shaking him from whatever foul visions he was experiencing.

his dark eyes open, at first looking confused and slightly scared.

“Thomas,” he pushes himself into a sitting position, “are you alright?”

“I don’t think either of us are alright, especially not you. you looked like you were being tortured in your sleep.”

“Speak for yourself. have you gotten any sleep at all tonight?”

“yes.”

it was true, Thomas had slept that night, maybe an hour or so, which was significantly good for him, yet that did not make him feel any less drained.

the nightmares wouldn’t let any of you sleep. the screams, the visions. it was one of the reasons that the two boys had decided to share a bed.

they were still terrible yes, but much easier to manage when there was someone else with them. knowing they’re not alone.

the two sit in silence, both thinking. both too scared to sleep.

fingers intertwine themselves with Thomas’ and he looks down to see Minho, not looking at him, gripping his hand. the boy squeezes and Thomas’ squeezes back.

still not saying anything to each other, they shift closer together, shoulders brushing, leaning on the bedframe. Thomas leans his head on the other’s shoulder, his dark hair tickling Minho’s neck.

Minho rests his own head on the boy’s head, closing his eyes and wrapping an arm around him.

he lets out a low sigh that rustles Thomas’ hair and closes his eyes. the other boy looks into the darkness, the looming, horrifying face still burned there, yet they did not advance. they crouched, wreathed by shadow, growling and hissing darkly.

yet even those started to fade as Minho presses a gentle kiss to his head and strokes his hand softly with his thumb.

Thomas closed his eyes, feeling sleep tugging at his mind. he does not resist, but instead lets it pull him under.

his dreams are filled with his lost friends, but they are not hollow eyed, or grotesquely disfigured.

no, he was in a lush field with forests around it, a blue sky above him. flowers dotted the long grass and birds chirped from the leaves of the trees.

his three friends sit together, beckoning and smiling at him. he joins them and sits in the sun. they talk to him and he talks back, telling them about the safe haven. about how Frypan insisted feeding them all huge plates of food for every meal. how Minho and Brenda could always be found, challenging each other to arm wrestles. how everyone missed them.

by the time he reaches this topic, Thomas cannot stop himself from saying the thing he had wanted to say since they had died.

“Listen, I’m sorry you died, it’s my fault, I know.” he looks at his hands, twisted in his lap.

a hand rests on his shoulder and he looks into the dark eyes and freckled face of Newt. “Hey.” he gives him a small smile, “it’s not your fault, you did what you could.”

“I failed you guys.”

Chuck’s slightly pudgy hand pats the brunet’s cold, intertwined ones, “you didn’t fail us, you were the reason we got this far.”

“Chuck’s right.” Teresa’s blue eyes meet his, “if it weren’t for you, we would probably all still be stuck in that shucked maze.”

“At least we would have been safe.”

“Safe,” Newt laughs softly, “safe isn’t the way to live a life. danger is what makes life interesting, it’s what makes life worth living. if you were safe all the time, what kind of life would that be.”

“a pretty boring one.” Thomas gives one of the first smiles he had in a while.

“Exactly.” Teresa pats his arm, “don’t beat yourself up Tom.”

“Yeah, we’re alright, at least we’re not alone, right?”

Thomas looks at all of their smiling faces and feels his heart lift a little. then they all suddenly look at the sky, as though a sound had issued from it. they look back at him, small smiles on their faces.

“I think it’s time for you to go Tommy.” Newt tells him softly.

the four of them stand, a cool breeze rustling their hair and hitting their faces. Chuck moves forwards and he hugs first him, then Teresa and then finally Newt.

he faces the three of them and opens his mouth to ask.

“We’ve already talked to Minho.” Teresa says as though she knew what he were about to say.

Thomas nods,

“Goodbye, Chuck, Teresa, Newt.”

“Goodbye,” the three of their words mingle together,

“Tom.”

“Thomas.”

“Tommy.”

he raises a hand in farewell and the last thing he sees before being pulled back to reality, his three friends, all smiling and waving at him, hair rustling in the breeze and faces illuminated in golden light.

Thomas opens his eyes, feeling something brushing his hair rhythmically. he looks up to see Minho, smiling softly down at him and stroking his hair.

the boy snuggles further into his arms, closing his eyes against the dawn light filtering into the room. he lets out a happy sigh, feeling calm and content for the first time since, well, forever.

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

duke

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/VnEzNQH by atinytrashbag Jon's softer than Martin initially thought. Words: 1178, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Dog (The Magnus Archives: The Magnus Archives Liveshow) Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, i believe in dork jon rights, let him be a loser, Meet-Cute read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/VnEzNQH