Herobrines Life Novels & Stories

on top of me his thrusts are savage it's painful at this point as I claw at him to stop he doesn't then I feel him coming inside me he stays there until he's sure I have milked him dry. I just lay there out of breath shocked that my sweet seventeen year old step brother just attacked me in the back of his truck.

I had brought him some snacks and walked in just as he was yelling at her. She was new and looked scared, like a little rabbit. Her eyes were red, and she was about to cry. People tried to calm Jeffrey down, but he would not listen. Finally, I could not watch anymore and stepped in to help. Jeffrey stopped yelling at her when he saw me. Back then, he warned me that a person like her would not last through the probationary period and would have to leave. However, she did not leave. Instead, she captured Jeffrey's heart so much that he wished he could hold her close and treasure her all the time. He even went so far as to end his own child's life for that assistant.

An old but powerful voice pulled me out of the endless darkness. "You're the one, Lily Stenson." I looked around the York family's indoor training grounds. The one who had just spoken was Emily Harrison. It was then that I realized that I had been reborn. I was surrounded by dozens of other elite bodyguards, who were clad in black training uniforms just like mine. They were the cream of the crop of other security companies within the country and were sent to participate in the competition.

… Later on, my best friend told me how Clara aged at lightning speed and ultimately had to rely on expensive medical equipment to stay alive. Mirabelle, on the other hand, insisted on having Marcus' baby despite the scandal. However, because she was a woman of advanced maternal age who never went for prenatal checkups, her child was born with Down syndrome. She took her son to fight for the Pembroke family's inheritance, but they refused to acknowledge him and even sent Marcus to Rivora to lie low. With nowhere else to turn, she went online to livestream her sob story. The feud between them blew up so badly that it eventually made national news.

Even the moonlight felt distant, veiled behind an eternal frost. When we reached the land of Zareth’s Brood, battle broke out almost immediately. They were strong, feral, wild, wolves that had forgotten how to shift to their human side, but Xareth’s army had grown monstrous. His power was unmatched. I stood back as blood stained the snow. By nightfall, the rogues had fallen, most of them dead. The few who survived either fled or lay groaning on the battlefield, broken and forgotten. As the dust settled, Xareth turned to me. “Now,” he said, “get the Heartstone.”

Sometimes, he'd shove bizarre ingredients into his mouth, and other times, he'd shoot all-you-can-eat challenges. But the odd thing was, the more he ate, the thinner he got. By the end of the week, his cheeks had grown more sunken and gaunt. "Thank you everyone for your support! Starting today, Jonah will stream three times a day and for two hours each!" One day, I heard Sephine's voice in the livestream again, while Jonah just sat there with dead eyes. The table in front of him was stacked high in three mountain heaps of live octopus tentacles, raw chicken gizzards, and lamb's blood cubes.

She replied, almost yelling, and I paused in fear. "If you must get to the wizard kingdom by the only way I know, you'll have to cross the bridge of thorns and flames," she replied, her teary eyes darting towards me. "That bridge of thorns and flames?" I asked with fingers crossed. "Yes, Ro," she nodded slowly, confirming my fears. The bridge of thorns and flames is a bridge we only heard about in myth and legend as young guardians. I have never once believed in its existence. It is a long, narrow bridge laced with nails and thorns around it that burn like lava. It was built with a strange form of magic to protect the wizards when they were faced with great threats.

Meant to submit and breed and nothing else. Jayvyn is Omega. Crown Prince in title only. Unwanted son of a dead concubine. Kept alive for political marriages. Abused by everyone. This body has been tortured for twenty-two years. Jay's survival instincts—honed in corporate boardrooms, sharpened by a lifetime of fighting for scraps of his father's approval—kicked in. He stopped fighting the hands holding him down. The grip loosened. Just slightly. Just enough. Jay upward with every ounce of strength this new body had. Water streamed from his hair as he twisted, drove his elbow back hard. Connected with something soft.

Every step feels like walking through memories that are not mine and yet they are. Past lives. Burning pyres. Chains. A blade in my ribs. Selene’s laughter. Damon’s betrayal. My own blood soaking into stone. Shadow magic floods my veins, eager, familiar but terrible at the same time. This power remembers me. It wants me to rule. “I know what you are,” I tell Varkar. “You feed on fractures. On grief. On the places where the world breaks.” He inclines his head. “And you, Lyra of many lives, are a beautiful fracture. And an abomination that wasn't supposed to survive.”

During this time, he was very frugal, he even took the time to sell firewood at the market every week to feed them all. “There are still five gold pieces and eighty pieces of silver. If you pass by the market, you can shop for your travel needs.” Then Herbert also provided knives, machetes, swords, and bows and arrows. "Just in case anything happens. But, hopefully you can arrive in good health and safety.” Finally, Herbert stroked Brockley's head affectionately. "May you become a formidable war leader, my son!" Even Brockley couldn't hold back his sadness, by trying to be tolerant, he let go of everything, with sincerity.