#AND ON A FUCKING WHIM I PLUGGED IT IN TO SEE IF IT WOULD TURN ON

[milf-harrington]

GUYS HOLY SHIT MY LAPTOP FUCKING TURNED ON!!!!!

#HI IF YOU DONT KNOW ABOUT A YEAR AND A HALF/TWO YEARS AGO MY LAPTOP CARKED IT #FULL CACTUS #AND WE TOOK IT TO THE ELECTRONIS STORE AND THEY SAID THEY'D HAVE TO REPLACE THE IMPORTANT PART AND WE COULDNT AFFORD IT #BUT I NEVER THROW ANYTHING OUT SO ITS JUST BEEN SITTING ON MY SHELF EVER SINCE #AND ON A FUCKING WHIM I PLUGGED IT IN TO SEE IF IT WOULD TURN ON #AND GUESS WHAT #OH MY GOD I AM SO FUCKING STOKED RIGHT NOW HOLY SHIT #this is wild i literally pulled this bitch apart when it first died trying to see if there was anything i can fo #and i was gutted when the boys at the shop said there was nothing we could do without that part #well take that #captain speaks

[diejager]

Guess Who

Pairing : Poly Task Force 141 x fem!reader

Cw: smut, BDSM, sensory deprivation, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, blindfold, doggy style?, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 0.8k

You cried out when his hard tip slid through your slick folds, nudging your twitching clit with quick and rough thrusts of his hips. You bucked your hips, chasing after his cock, begging him to push into you. You wished you could do more, to turn around and glare at him, to push him to the ground and ride him, or to tie him up and fuck yourself over his thick cock; but the ropes bound you to the armchair, hands tied to your back and soft leather holding your legs open, exposing your puffy cunt and the black plug stuffing your ass.

He chuckled at your whine, strong hands coming to stop your hips from squirming, but did as you wished. His leaky cock slammed into your empty - if you discounted the dripping mix of cum and your slick rolling down your thighs and staining the couch - pussy in a swift cant of his hips and ground into your ass, his warm hand rubbed circles on your hip as he complimented you on your behaviour and for taking him so well.

You felt so full, your cunt pulsing with heat and unfulfilled lust. The prior teasing and playing had you slick and wanting for more, your nerves burning on the edge of overstimulation, yet still craving satisfaction. It would be the last one, he’d come once and you, nearly a dozen in mere hours. You were tired, sweaty, and slick, but you hated being edged and deprived.

He pulled out slowly, groaning when you tightened around him, warm walls trying to suck him deeper, to keep him seated inside of your heat, and pushed in roughly. You let out a choked moan, jolting forward, face-first into the soft couch and groaned. Tears fell from your lashes, wetting the silky fabric of the lace blindfold around your head. You hated it, not being able to see him, only their taunting chuckles, teasing words and burning gaze followed by hungry hands. It also made you so sensitive, your body hyper-aware of everything around you: noise, touch, hearing, every stimulus felt enhanced way past what it should be possible.

“What’s wrong, love?” Price’s voice sounded somewhere behind you, his tone teasing you with a smirk hidden under his beard. You wondered if it was his cock you were taking, but he didn’t have a slight curve and this one seemed longer than thicker, so it couldn’t be him, could it? “Too much?”

Someone looped a finger under your collar, pulling you off the furniture where you dug your teeth in, trying to muffle your loud cries from the people outside Price’s office. Gaz reprimanded you, scolding you for hiding your voice and not letting them hear you clearly. You wanted to tell them that the room wasn’t soundproof, that the others would hear you, but you also wanted to beg them to take the blindfold off, you wanted to look into Gaz’s warm, brown eyes. You loved the way they were also soft and kind, welcoming you on any occasion and hardening into cool steel when he stepped off the aircraft.

You nodded the best you could, mind unable to form a coherent sentence with one of them fucking you so harshly, spearing you with reckless abandon, his panting and grunting the only sound to help you guess who it was. He was mean to you, yet you still adored it, the way you could relinquish yourself to their whims. You clenched around him, walls spamming every time his bulbous head hit your g-spot, making you squirm and whine.

“That’s it, m’eudail,” Soap cooed, his soothing voice so close to you, helping you reach your high with his words. He wasn’t cracking jokes or laughing cheekily in these moments, he was a caring and ground lover, he liked easing you over your peak when you were sensitive and fucked out. “Yer a good girl, hen.”

It throbbed, his pace growing sloppy with each jerk of his hip, his heavy balls slapping your nub with wet sounds. Your knees shook, your body growing weaker from the hours you spent kneeling with only him as your support. He moaned quietly, snapping so deep and rolling his hips as he came, spurting ropes of white, potent cum in your filled cunt. You felt full, warm and so, so sensitive, head thrown back and back arching. Your sweaty and overworked body shook violently, eyes crossing and squirting over him, it made him groan erotically.

Fingers ran through your hair, careful not to disturb your blindfold’s knot, blunt nails starting at the crown of your head to brush the ends of your hair from your skin. He pulled away after a few shallow thrusts, riding out his orgasm without making you too oversensitive. You fell limp against the armchair, feeling the globs of fresh - and old - cum roll down your puffy folds. It made you shiver, chest puffing up with laboured breaths. You were exhausted but satisfied, the near-drowning pulse in your clit beating to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“You did good, pet,” Ghost finally spoke up, his deep tone chiming over your gasping and trembling figure. He held your face, the rough texture of his gloves itching your flushed cheeks. “Tell me who fucked you, in order.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader smut #soap x reader #soap x you #soap smut #cod mw2 smut #ghost mw2 smut #mw2 smut #price smut #price mw2 #cod price #captain john price #captain price #john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #mw2 gaz #gaz call of duty #gaz x reader

[sanemisstalker]

Could you maybe delve more into Sanemi’s kinks, if you’re feeling up to it 👀

Baby, i wont deny. He makes me fucking whacko. Fucking. whacko. I will never not feel up to doing him.

CW / The content warnings are the labels.

Pet Play (Dog, Recieving)- @/akaza-chaos and I have had day long conversations about this fucking topic-

On every forefront, truly every forefront, I think Sanemi enjoys pet play. Collared, caged, marking, barking, breeding. He likes head pats, being called a good boy, pampering/grooming, he likes to be called a mutt, wear a tail plug and the stupid fucking ears.

He. Is. A. Dog. Nothing will put this bitch in subspace faster than a well timed pat on the head and a loving 'Good Boy'

Leash him, walk him around nude. Tell him he has to pee outside because 'that's how all let's do'. He is your personal use mutt. He loves to rut against things, especially your leg, truly delusional about going into heat.

He cums like a dog, too. Only knotting you in theory but needing to stay inside, begging his seed to take. He's an animal, his one responsibility to reproduce.

I think it's a safe space for him. A loosened collar compared to the one of his everyday life. Not that He'd ever be able to articulate or even grasp such a thing.

Nipple Piercings-

This is self indulgent, but I think He'd be kind of fascinated by the willingness for pain. Constantly asking to see them. Maybe rub them (you can totally talk him into getting his pierced.)

He just thinks they're neat. Maybe a little stupid, but neat.

Overstimulation-

Sanemi loves how it feels to be fucked blind. The blood rushing from that heavy head to his eager cock. I think he cums hard and a lot, and I think his recovery is all the stronger-

Which is why he seeks out rapid and repetitive stimulation- He needs to get it all out. He's got so much to think about, you just have to fuck it out of him! Obviously.

He imagining tying a small vibe to his tip and riding him so he turns into your own personal dildo. He's going in and out of your needy hole, doing his best to stay up but he's cum for the umpteenth time now and he's actually blacking out- his balls feel like they burn-

Mmmmmmm

Forced Bisexuality- dub-con (obviously)

I had a very long, grouped set of paragraphs for this, but I felt like I could get my idea down shorter.

I think Sanemi doesn't have a wandering eye, I think he has a wondering one. A natural inclination for sexual curiosity. Sexual curiosity he would not be willing to partake in unless pushed by his lover's whims.

Would he want it? Undeniably. I think, through various Sanemi like stubborn, uncommunicated circumstances, you would easily grasp his subtle asks.

He might look off put, and might even be a little bitey about the whole subject, but it is undeniable that he loves the sensation of a cock battering his prostate while a pussy contracts around him.

He loves how it feels to be made limp in a girl, while a bigger, stronger man abuses his backside, egging him on to fuck her- fuck her while he uses him, go on and try. And he does, because he's Sanemi, and he'll never not try, but the bastard is just fucking using him, and it's so hard to move his hips to please the girl beneath him-

He'd do his best to not collapse on her- Whispering praises in her ear because the only thing moving his hips is the beating from the other man's. That stimulation from both ends must be something else.

Degradation-

I think Sanemi will take any insult you throw at him in bed. Be it in a teasing, domineering way, or a brattish 'you're really going to let me talk to you like that?' I think Sanemi is perfectly capable of taking care of himself in both situations, and coming out with his own little sense of victory.

He's not prone to praising, this one just feels better. Makes him think less.

Favourite names include: Dog, Mutt, Anything that implies he's inhuman in an animal kind of way, slut, Cum dump.

Likes to be told he is practically an animal- He fucks like breeding stock, like a rabbit- fast and hard, and if you point it out it'll make him go faster and harder. He loves the idea that he's so clouded by you, that you're appeal is just enough to make him snap and go feral.

Tell him he's acting like a bitch in heat, it might just break him.

Free use (Recieving)-

I have an ask about this brewing in my inbox, and baby when I get to it it you all are going to be ill.

It's only a fantasy, he reasons. Never something He'd actually be able to or even prone to do-

He can take load after load, though, and be good to go til the end of the night. Everyone that comes in to use him is complimenting his body, so interested in his abs that he works so hard on, only to use him like he's a dildo/fleshlight and then leave him heaving on the ground, his own cum splattered up to his tits.

He's tied up and muzzled so he won't bite- only allowed to remove the jaw cage to give head with fervent, almost dehydrated need.

A couple of stray 'what a well trained man's would get him through the night with a smile on his cum covered face.

Femdom-

:D

I think Sanemi has a very special subspace he's able to be in. For such a gruff and imposing man, he is certainly subservient sexually. Willing to do just about anything and just about everything for his sexual dominant. Especially if it's a woman.

Sanemi is in need of a gentle dominant primarily. Rough and hard comes when he just won't break on an idea and has to be reminded that it's not his place to think about such awful self reflections. He is master's dog, after all.

That dog thing doesn't just extend to pet Play. I think Sanemi is genuinely dog like in his approach to people. Like a really fucked up, rabies infected dog- You have to approach him tentatively, and then commit to active training.

Sanemi loves being trained- loves being put through the physical ringer to impress- loves being denied, being told what to say, why he should say it- Loves being guided, being cared for and pampered- even if he'd sooner take a sword to the gut than admit this publicly.

He is a wonderful submissive, a five-star one in fact. You just have to break that little self-hate habit (and maybe house train him) and he'll be just fine.

Public-

He really gets a thrill out of doing it in front of others. He moreso likes to dominate in these moments, be a good, praised fuck delivering pleasure to some other exhibitionist while people jeered and clapped.

Maybe it's the crowd, and his ego, but Sanemi's dick is big, and he's a stellar lay. He'll never not want to hear these things, and making someone scream that out infront of others? Reminding everyone in the room of who the biggest and the baddest, the best and finest is?

He's so thankful he can control his orgasms, because if he couldn't, he'd be incapable of keeping up.

Anal (Giving/Recieving)-

I think Sanemi has a bigger prostate than most other AMAB's, and it leads him to enjoy anal more.

As for why he likes dominating with anal, it's because he likes toying with your dick/cunt to see how it makes your ass clench around him. Cowgirl Anal? He insists you hold a vibe so he can feel you quiver around him- Missionary Anal? Some of his fingers are buried in your hole/ circling your tip.

He loves, loves fucking cum into your ass. It makes him feel raunchy- and dirty. Likes he's properly claimed you in every hole. When it drips out, he pushes it back in, fingering your already abused gape.

Loves to see you gape, too. Honestly think he prefers giving anal to receiving it just so he can see that slutty gape when he pulls out. He can go so so fucking deep

Pegging-

Same reason he likes anal and femdom- He likes being put in his place lol.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x you

[writingsofwesteros]

Aegon who would be soft and gentle, making love to his wife while he was just a prince, even letting her ride him and set the pace or choose how much of him she took in. He never wanted to hurt her or give her more than she could handle, his deep obsessive love for her preventing him from doing so.... that's until he becomes king. Something in Aegon turns darker and so does his love for her. He becomes more possessive and feels like he owns her and should have complete control of everything: her laugh, smile, hair, touch, happiness, pain, love, body, and womb. Aegon sees her conversing with Ser Criston and Aemond, smiling and laughing too much for his liking and swears he would kill the men one day for his wife allowing something that should only be for him. He acts like everything is alright while he's breaking down on the inside, flickering back and forth from violent images of him slaughtering every man in the kingdom so she could never slip up again... to ideas of what he would do to her over the next few weeks to teach her a lesson and mark her for the whole world to see, most surely to disgust his poor mother and make her cry from how sacrilegious they were.

Aegon starts by slowly fucking her rougher, not sure where to start until he visits a brothel that specializes in more hardcore sex, having found it after following one of the city guards in (they're always so stressed from work, so they need to let off steam somehow ;) ) He refuses to touch any of the girls, instead standing around and watching how the men totally dominate the women, doing anything from spitting in their mouth to making them hump their boot to tag teaming their pussy with another man or a special toy. Aegon starts incorporating the things he saw at the brothel in his sex life, manipulating his sweet conservative wife into bending to his every whim despite how degrading it is and finds an odd pleasure in knowing she would visit the sept to pray for forgiveness every time they'd finished. He likes watching her lay there and catch her breath before stumbling around to get dressed and practically sprinting as much as she could with that bad of a limp to light a candle and beg for mercy for giving into sin. Though it throughs her through emotional loops, he finds it exciting and even takes her somewhat forcibly while she goes to pray, making her sob while moaning like a whore in her sacred place. Aegon visits the brothel a few more times and comes back with armsful of different sex toys (various dildos with different girths/lengths, clit stimulators, butt plugs, etc.), gear (whips, swings, cuffs & other restraints, gags, nipple clamps, collars with leashes, etc.), and some lube or other gels that either numb her, make her more horny, or help with aftercare, along with potent aphrodisiacs to make her mind melt even more.

His wife is in for the time of her life even if against her wishes or morals, eventually stopping herself from leaving the castle halls and later their bedroom from the embarrassment of her very noticeable bruises and continuous limp from their rough fucking. Some people make the joke their queen has been spending too much time with Larys and the man actually thought for a short period she was doing it to mock him. The only time Aegon really shows mercy on her is during her pregnancies, special days like birthdays or anniversaries, and when he she's way too sore from the previous nights. Though that isn't to say he isn't sweeter with her after their first child is born, he isn't as wild as when he first began and doesn't make her do the extreme hardcore stuff, even giving her control a time or two. 👑💀

ALL OF THIS

I can see him using his softness as a manipulation technique as well as I imagine she misses that side of him

Aegon slowly taking away places from her; ruining her in the place of worship is just the beginning

#as ever i bow to you #hot thots #👑💀anon

[lolabangtan]

moon flower sneak peek

Namjoon x reader

His cock is rock-hard, leaking precum and begging for some warmth, your warmth, but he knows better; with a hiss, he puts his cock back into his pants and walks up to you, not a single word.

“Good boy.”

You don’t ignore the way Namjoon sneers at you, what’s more, it amuses you. He scoots right behind you and beds to take the small plug between his fingers; his crotch presses against your ass, and you can feel the tempting shape of his hard cock.

“What a waste,” you whine, pressing back. He unwillingly grinds his hips against you. “I really wish I could let you fuck me.”

“I doubt it would happen that way…”

“Why?” For some reason, someone as smart as Kim Namjoon is not annoyed that you keep entertaining him with tricks. Maybe he doesn’t care, maybe he’s too tempted to play along. “Isn’t it supposed to be that way—? I’d bend down on this cold metal table and you’d fuck me senseless till I’m dripping with your seed.”

“You speak very lightly of your ‘lack’ of power,” he murmurs then. The palms of his hands are hot on your hips.

There’s an initial attempt at making you halt your grinding, but Namjoon is incapable of ignoring his cock’s whims. A man of science, he said— all bullshit. He’s practically dry-humping your ass.

“I thought that would turn you on. After all, you humans always fantasise about power.”

A whimper dies down his throat. “N-not all— not me.”

“Poor thing…”

“Please,” he suddenly begs; his eyes are tearing up, you realise when you turn around, “please, I’m— I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’ve never— I’m no better than the others, no better than Jungkook, n-no better than any other disgusting human—”

“After seeing that cock, I assure you, you’d be better than most of them…”

“F-fuck—”

You want to believe you have the upper hand. You want to believe, a bit pathetically, that you have complete control over the situation, over your body, that you will be able to get rid of all this walking rubbish called humankind without getting tired. Your wits are enough. You don’t need to use your strength; one doesn’t hunt vermin – you trick them into traps.

However, the ache between your legs is so overwhelming that you’re starting to lose your mind.

You rush him closer to wrap your legs around his hips. Namjoon breathes heavily through his nose as he feels your thighs and buttocks, and you grin at him.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you tell him with a breathless chuckle, “none of this makes any sense at all.”

He nods at your words. “I-it doesn’t.”

#sub!namjoon #Namjoon x reader #Namjoon fanfiction #Namjoon smut #sub namjoon #lola bangtan #moonflower

[shorkbrian]

Father Figure - Disappointed

Prelude - I get so many asks about the same thing and so I put them at the bottom lol otherwise this would be so long. Also I combined them, RIP sorry pals I suck. Anyways, remember guys, bad people exist. If someone is hurting you or you suspect someone you know is being hurt, please talk to someone, please don’t let yourself settle into “This is normal, this is fine”. It’s not normal, and it’s not fine. The national sexual assault hotline in America is 1-800-656-4673 and it’s from a organization called RAINN.

https://www.rainn.org

They have a chat service too, if you prefer texting over calling.

Please stay safe y’all

Pairing - Stepdad! Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - Pseudo incest, manipulation, power dynamics, NSFW, noncon, dubcon, mentions of unsafe sex, slight degradation. Belittling, controlling Aizawa.

Music -  https://open.spotify.com/track/5nHTLEJ10zaqdnKqLriah4?si=Bs0su-fBRxWoE3jefCdPIA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Why? Why, huh? Do I not provide you with very little thing you need, anything you could ever want?”

You dip your head in shame, sock-clad feet rubbing against each other nervously. “I just wanted to-“

“To disappoint me, yes, you’ve done that very well.” Aizawa’s tone is harsh, incensed. “I catch you trying to sneak out again, and all you can do is offer excuses.”

Biting your lip, you spread your hands quickly, trying to appease him. “I was just going to get you a present! For-for your birthday!”

A weak excuse, one that neither of you bought.  Aizawa stood up from the couch, shaking his head.

“My birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks and you know it. Plus, we both know that you’ll be the only present I unwrap on my birthday.”

The sordid promise made your heart drop, tensing up as your stepdad came closer and closer, until he stood in front of you. Tall, imposing, irritated.

“I’m sorry….” You manage, staring down at your feet. It’s too intimidating to try and meet his gaze, those light grey eyes that fill you with fear and guilt.

“I’m sure you are. How are you going to make it up to me?” And there it was, the always-dreaded initiation. You often wondered how Aizawa would be like with a woman his age, someone willing and eager to please him. Would he force them like this?

A minute stretched by while your mind worked, trying desperately to think of some other way to soothe his ire. Every time you undressed for him, every time he touched your body, every time you were forced to touch him made you feel dirty, tainted, disgusting.

Damaged goods.

“I can choose-“

“No!” You cried, head snapping up, fingers flying to his shirt to fist in the soft fabric before you remembered yourself. “I mean, no Dad, I’ll make it up to you.”

The words felt vile in your mouth, like poison. But of your two options, having the slightest bit of control over the situation was preferable. Whenever your stepdad chose some way for you to show that you were sorry, it hurt. He’d introduced you to anal, forcing you to take his thick fingers deep, stretching you out with various plugs and toys, drizzling more and more lube into your hole until you were loose enough to take him.

This way, you could avoid his painful favorite.

Taking a deep breath, you steered him back to the couch, and the man sat, looking up at you expectantly.

You dropped to your knees, spreading his thighs with your hands, the limbs giving way easily. The waistband of his sweats was pulled down easily, your fingers hooking into his briefs to pull them down as well.

He was already hard.

“C’mon, don’t make me wait.” Your stepdad urged, one hand coming to lace through your hair, loosely gripping the aback of your head. You suppose it could be taken as a reassuring gesture, but you knew what it really was; a threat.

You kept your face neutral as you kissed the mushroom tip, a bead of precum wetting your lips. You’d earned quickly that making any sort of face at the sight, smell, or feel of Aizawa’s dick would be met with swift punishment. He’d shove his cock down your throat and keep it there until your legs went numb, until tears pricked at your eyes.

And you’d still have to suck him off afterwards.

So you kept your face relaxed, slowly licking along the length, fondling his balls, kissing the base of his cock noisily.

A long lick from the base to the tip before you took him in your mouth, tucking your teeth behind your lips. Your tongue took over now, swirling around the head, laving broad strips against the very tip, swiping the precum away on each lick.

Raising your eyes to gauge his reaction was a mistake, Aizawa staring down at you with a hooded gaze, relaxing back into the couch.

“Make it up to me.”

You sucked, hard, swallowing around his dick as you eased it towards the back of your throat. You had to build up to deepthroating, still had trouble with it and your gag reflex, but your stepdad was a diligent teacher.

He was holding himself back, thighs flexing aside your head as he stopped himself from thrusting up into your mouth, from hunching over and using you like a toy, making you gag and sob and drool around his length. Aizawa wanted you to do all the work, wanted you to show him how sorry you really were by making him cum.

Moving your head faster, you bobbed on his length, cringing internally as drool slipped down your chin, towards your chest. You hated when it got messy.

Aizawa placed his other hand against your cheek, stroking the side of your face, but you could tell that he was really feeling for the outline of his cock in your mouth, thick, stocky fingers pressing insistently.

You made a little noise of protest, quickly trying to morph it into a moan, pulling off of him to catch your breath. Your hands twisted around his length, stimulating him in place of your mouth while you breathed, sloppy, slick sounds being heard each time your fist met his pelvis.

“Do it like I taught you.” Were his next instructions, Aizawa obviously getting bored by your hand job. You wanted to kick, and scream, and cry, maybe bite his dick off.

But he’d trained you well.

So you took a deep breath before plunging back down again, moving your head enthusiastically as you throat-fucked yourself, willing your gag reflex to stay calm.

It was only when you felt his dick slip into your throat did your stepdad start to make noise, groaning a little bit as he fisted his hand further into your hair. He was subtly guiding you with the hand, forward and back, forward and back, but letting you move about freely.

After all, you were supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s it, just like that.”

His orgasm built up slowly, cock twitching inside your mouth as you worked him higher and higher, hands playing with the length of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You had to pull off once more to breath, chest heaving, desperately trying to jerk him to completion while his length wasn’t lodged in your mouth.

No such luck.

He came in your mouth, hips bucking a little as he released his milky seed. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your fists as you willed yourself not to recoil, not to get sick, not to make a face or do anything else to earn Aizawa’s anger.

You swallowed it down without a fuss, hating yourself for every second you spent being compliant.

But what else could you do?

Cock softening against his thigh, you tucked him back into his sweatpants, leaning your face against his leg to rest for a second.

Your stomach felt warm, full. It made you so sick.

“That was good, you’re learning.” Even his praise was clinical, almost detached. You hated him.

“I’m still upset with you though.”

The admission made you lift your head, turning to your stepfather with a quizzical expression, hurt, feeling betrayed.

“But dad, I just-I got you off? Isn’t that enough?” You wanted to add a “please”, beg for him to say yes, that all is forgiven, that he wasn’t mad anymore, that he wasn’t going to hurt you, or make you do anything else.

Aizawa tutted. “It’s enough when I say it is, and you messed up big time. You think a measly little blowjob makes up for all the shit you’ve tried to pull today? I don’t think so.”

“But, wasn’t it-didn’t I do good? I thought-“

“It was nice, you’re getting the hang of how to move your tongue. But I think there should be a little more effort put into your apology.”

You wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair, you had done enough already, wasn’t he satisfied? Why was he like this, so creepy and gross? Why couldn’t you have had a normal stepfather, who treated you like a normal person, who didn’t rip away your autonomy and freedom.

Aizawa could tell you weren’t fond of having to continue, but he wasn’t fond of your behavior.

A sudden jerk from the hand in your hair had you gasping in pain, Aizawa leaning over as he pulled you towards him. Your hands grabbed for his wrists, but he was already talking, anger swimming in those grey eyes of his.

“I’m being lenient with you. Do you understand how awful you’ve been these past few weeks? You’re pathetic. You think I wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak out the back door? You think I wouldn’t notice the hickies on your neck after you come home from “hanging out” with your girls?”

Your blood ran ice cold, draining out of your face. You thought you had told your (tentative, maybe) boyfriend to not leave any marks, that your dad would notice, that you’d get in trouble. You though you’d gotten away with that little secret, with the fact that you’ve been seeing someone every time you tell your dad you’re just chilling with friends.

Trying to sneak out the back door had been dumb, but you had felt desperate, upset, detested by your life. Hating the daily routine of being assaulted by your stepdad, being forced to be obedient and docile and cater to his lecherous whims.

Spread your legs when he asks, suck him off under the table when he tells you to, keep the bathroom door unlocked when you take a shower, in the off chance that he’d like to join you.

Not being able to tell anyone, caring the burden of shame and regret like heavy weights on your back.

Having to kiss him on the mouth, feel his stubble burning your cheeks, the sensitive skin of your thighs when he felt particularly giving.

His daily “lessons” almost always made you cry, either his harsh words or his insistence that you learn how to please him, it was only your natural role.

A daughter should always do her best to please her daddy.

Even just a night of freedom away from his grasp was welcomed, savored as a treat. You just needed to get away, but even that was asking too much.

“So-“ Aizawa released you, and you immediately rubbed at your stinging scalp. “What do you think I should do?”

“I-I wanna go to bed.” You mumbled, eyes darting wildly around the room, focusing anywhere except the dark-haired man in front of you.

“Oh? I didn’t expect you to be so forward about that.” He taunted, leaning forward onto his knees, lacing his fingers together with a mean smirk.

“No, I want to sleep….. please.” You knew that Aizawa had intentionally misunderstood you, intent on making you plead with him for simple mercies like sleep.

Aizawa sighed, rising to his feet. You scrambled to your feet also, feeling too small and weak kneeling on the floor underneath him like that. Still, he towered over you, running a lazy hand through his dark locks as he regarded you.

“I can’t just let you go unpunished, what kind of father would I be? Letting you lie and sneak around behind my back like this. Your daddy is supposed to care for you. I’d never neglect you.”

You wish he would.

“I learned my lesson dad, I swear. I won’t sneak out, I’ll-I’ll stay home and have my friends over instead of going out! Anything, just-just not……”

Not whatever he had planned for the rest of the night.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples as he circled a hand around your arm, beginning to lead you towards his bedroom down the hall. You wanted to balk, but knew that doing so would only worsen your punishment.

“Thats a start, and we’ll do that moving forward. But you won’t be getting out of a punishment. Offering compromises and begging won’t get you anywhere, even if you do sound sweet.”

Pulling you into his bedroom, your stepdad let go of your arm, closing the door behind you. He moved to turn on a lamp by the bedside, turning off the overhead light so the room was cast in a low, yellow glow.

“Strip, then on the bed.”

You trembled as you slowly shucked off your clothes, Aizawa beginning to do the same, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

But that was normal.

Aizawa was a fit man, able to manhandle you and pin you down, keep you still with the muscles hiding under his skin. But he was a father, and older, his body taking on the characteristics of someone who enjoyed life.

His thighs were thick, his abdomen sturdy. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but his muscles were overplayed with a nice layer of fat. He looked like a bear, with the dark hair on his chest, his thick limbs, his solid frame.

But the man wasn’t shy, and by the time you had stripped down to your panties he was completely nude, pink cock soft against his thigh.

“Dad, I really don’t want to do-“

“I don’t care. Get on the bed.”

You bit your lip, staying still. “Please, please, I said I’m sorry-“

Within a second, Aizawa’s hand was around your throat, his eyes blazing as he shoved you against the wall.  

“This is what’s going to happen.” His voice was raspy, grinding out past his clenched teeth as he invaded your space. “You’re going to do as I say and get on the bed, or else I’ll use my belt on you until you bleed. Once you’re on the bed, you’re going to lay nice and pretty for daddy while I get everything ready. I got a candle to play with, and a couple of toys, and daddy wants to see how well they makes you moan for me.”

You were shivering, fingers scrabbling at the hand squeezing your airway, still allowing you to breath, but just barely.

“You’re gonna get all fucked out and stupid, ’n then I’m gonna bounce you on my cock until I’m satisfied, got it?” The man continued, his nose almost touching yours “Then you’re gonna wear a plug all night, and all tomorrow morning. I get to have you whenever I want, and you won’t complain or else I’ll cum inside, alright?”

Nodding your head, you felt tears rising. You had to do what Aizawa said though, you couldn’t take the risk of having the man cum inside.

“I’ll decide a better way to continue your punishment tomorrow, when I’m not as upset with you. Maybe by then you’ll figure out how to listen to daddy.”

When the man released your throat, you gasped, coughing a bit as you sucked in oxygen. Aizawa was already pushing you towards the bed, eyes trained on your figure.

The new knowledge that this wouldn’t even be the brunt of your punishment was devastating, and you felt your chest tighten up as you struggled not to cry. Crying would only get him to mock you.

All you could do was comply.

“I need you to remember-“ Your step dad catches you by the wrist, tilts your chin with a finger so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#tw.pseudo #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon. #aizawa #aizawa sensei #bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa smut #shoto aizawa #aizawa x you #yandere #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere aizawa #yandere smut #yanzawa #I like that

[bangchanswolfpelt]

omg, I was the anon who sent the ball stretcher ask for soobin and I am CRYING, you explained it so well :')))) and the idea of soobin big and heavy balls made me w e a k (idk how I never thought about that) but it def would look hot with a ball stretcher. What other toys do you think would fit really well with subby!soob?

i'm so glad you liked it!!💞 it spun so wildly out of control, haha, i didn't mean to write literally a thousand words but something possessed me. 😭 and there are sooooo many toys that i think would be fun to use with Soobin, honestly the better question is what wouldn't i use on this boy. 😈

butt plugs!!

this boy wants, needs, and deserves to be pegged

I feel like Soobin’s the type who jerks off to the thought of having his ass played with a lot, but has always been too nervous to actually try anything on his own

make him wear butt plugs to get him used to playing with his ass, and also so that when he’s just going through the day, he has something to remind him of you even when you’re not around 🥰

(i also feel like he’d look sooooooo cute with one of those fluffy lil bunny tail butt plugs 👀)

nipple clamps and suckers/pumps

there’s not much to this one—any toy that makes him extra sensitive is gonna be fun cause i just wanna overstimulate him til he cries, and also i just think he would look so cute with puffy engorged little nipples from pumping 🥺

blindfolds and ring gags

this boy loves to be at your mercy and used by you

he loves watching you play with him and fuck him, but there’s something really exciting for him about not being able to see what’s coming

everything is just so much more intense for him with a blindfold, imagine seeing him perk up at the smallest sighs out of your mouth, imagine him whining and arching up into the lightest brush of your fingers against his skin

any kind of gag would be fun, but I feel a ring gag on Soobin would be especially *chef kiss* 🧑🏽‍🍳🤌🏽💋

he can’t speak, which makes teasing him with embarrassing questions even more fun, but at the same time it stops him from muffling those pretty little whines and moans you love so much 🥰

it keeps him nice and accessible for you, too—keeps his mouth stretched open for you to fuck with your fingers or your strap-on, lets his tongue stay free in case you want to sit on his face and fuck yourself on his tongue

also, if you just wanna be mean to that pretty little mouth, he can’t stop you—play with and pinch those pouty lips, grab his tongue and massage it to make him drool all over himself—gags are inherently humiliating and messy, but with a ring gag you just have so many options 🤤

chastity cages, cuffs, leashes

is he getting hard all the time when you’re in public together?

not anymore >:]

making him wear a cock cage starts out as a way to humiliate him a little—if he can’t keep his cock under control, you’ll just have to do it for him

but alongside the very enjoyable embarrassment that comes with having to have someone else restrain him, there’s also an intense relief for him—if he can’t do anything, there’s no point in worrying about doing the right thing or about his body doing the wrong thing without his permission

this same feeling is what eventually leads to you cuffing him down in bed—he doesn’t need to be restrained, he’d never dream of doing anything without your permission, but knowing that he can’t do anything, that he’s completely helpless to your whims is just so good for the both of you 🤤

like, i feel like restraints are the best way to turn his brain off and put him into sub space—imagine Soobin all floaty and dazed and sweet for you, body fully relaxed and ready to take whatever you want to give him

circling back to my pet play agenda for just a moment: imagine putting a leash on him and yanking him where you want him, calling him your lil bunny cause god knows he can fuck like one 👀

lots of pain/sensation toys—pinwheels, vampire gloves, maybe even paddles and crops

i feel like Soobin would be just a bit of a painslut—the contrast just heightens his pleasure

he’d look so good marked up—trails of red running along his pale skin, eyes glazed and mouth slack, fucked out just from the thought that anyone could tell he belongs to you just from looking at him 🥰

i would also like you to consider: bending this very big boy over your lap and paddling his ass until it’s bright red and hot under your palm, until his cock is leaking all over your thighs and he’s making tearful, pathetic promises to be a good boy for you 👀

honestly, tho, i truly think Soobin would let you try just about anything you wanted on him, and would get genuinely excited at you making him just. take whatever you felt like using on him. he’d get off on the fear and confusion of not knowing what’s next or maybe even seeing what’s coming next but not understanding it.

i’m not super into medical kink, but imagine playing doctor with him as an excuse to just subject him to every single toy you want to try out. imagine setting him down on a little exam table with that crinkly exam room paper that lets you hear every one of his nervous little fidgets. rolling in a stainless steel tray laid out with a truly terrifying number of toys: pinwheels, plugs, and dildos all in gleaming sterile steel; clinical looking little nipple suckers; an intimidatingly high-tech looking electro wand kit; some tiny little hammers and pen lights and tongue depressors just to round out the set. how sweet and shy he’d be as your naive, anxious little patient. 🥺 ugh fuck i think im gonna hafta write medical roleplay with Soobin now 😭😤🧑🏽‍⚕️

tagging: @jensdior

#soobin thirst #soobin smut #txt smut #txt thirst #mail corner 📬 #txt👾

[veryveryverytemporarily]

Started writing this AU where Aaron moves into a flatshare. I’m not going to post on Ao3 until complete but let me know if you like the idea of it

Come sail your ships around me

Colin - it says in handwriting on the envelope.

Aaron picks it up and looks inside, thumbs the crisp fiver, a couple of ones, and a shiny fifty penny piece.

Beside it there’s a note and a discarded pen. Strange to think of him writing it - this person that he’s never met.

All the other details about the house are typed and left in a folder with plastic sleeves, like a holiday let. Only this isn’t - It’s home, for now at least.

Leave this out for the milkman, he comes around six. I get a pint of organic every day. If you want to order something for yourself, you’d better let him know.

Aaron raises his brows. Every day? What’s he doing; bathing in it?

He puts the note down again on the kitchen counter, sees his work boots have left a trail of mud and bends to take them off, unthreading the laces from the metal eyes. In his socks, he pads over to the sink and opens the cupboard, peering underneath for a cloth. The place is spanking clean.

He finds some anti-bacterial spray. He’d better show willing.

 ‘Explain it to me again, you’re sharing with this bloke -,’ his Mum is giving him the third degree, ‘who you know nothing about, and haven’t met, and sleeping in the same flaming bed? That can’t be right!’

Aaron holds his fork an inch from his lips, suspending the simple pleasure of a full English. This is why he needs to leave, this and all the other stuff going on in his head; he needs the space. They can’t keep treating him like a kid, like a victim.

‘I’ve already told you; he works nights, I work days. It’s a one-bedroom gaff but we’re not there at the same time.’

‘Like a timeshare, then,’ Paddy offers.

‘Take your own sheets at least.’

He drops his cutlery with a clatter and stands. It’s enough now, but his Mum can’t help herself.

‘Just, why would he do that, rent the place out when he’s not there?’ She spreads her hands as she speaks, throwing the question out to the universe. A question he can’t answer, because what does it matter?

He picks up his car keys.

‘We’ll see you next weekend, though?’ she calls after him. ‘We worry about you, love!’

  There are herbs on the kitchen windowsill. The evening sun slants in, illuminating the paper-thin leaves.

It’s a second-floor apartment with its own entrance from the street. At the back there are metal stairs from the kitchen leading out to a narrow garden secluded by a high fence, topped by trees.

The garden is as pristine as indoors, laid with shingle, with a bistro table and chairs, and exotic looking plants, and one of those outdoor lantern candles.

Aaron sits and drinks a beer, scrolling his phone in the peace and quiet.

Every now and then he looks up, still feeling slightly uneasy like he’s trespassing.

This must be where his housemate took his Instagram profile pic, it occurs to him. On a whim he decides to check.

He’s right; there’s the blue corner of the bistro chair, and the leaves of one of the plants. His eyes are drawn back to his housemate's face.

It’s a terrible photo; the sun’s behind him and you can barely make his features out; and, as if that’s not enough, he’s wearing dark reflective glasses. All Aaron can say for sure is that he has a goatee beard and his hair’s scraped back and tied in a man bun. You can see the collar of a utility jacket, a shiny button on the breast pocket. 

It’s hard to be sure, but he looks serious.

He thinks back to when they spoke on the phone, when he first answered the ad in the paper; he was quite breezy and business-like, but there was something about the timbre of his voice - something quiet. Like he’d survived something; just like he has. It was one of the reasons he decided to take the place.

But maybe he’s projecting.

It was something his therapist brought up when they touched on his issues of trust.

A blackbird on the fence is giving it full throttle as the sun starts its descent.

He frowns one last time at the photo - Either he’s ridiculously bad at taking selfies. Or he’s hiding. The account is only a few months old and the rest is just boring seascapes and pictures of food. Saddo! Or maybe his Mum’s right - weirdo?

No point in dwelling on it now anyway. He’s signed a contract and here he is.

He goes back indoors, unpacks his games console and plugs it in. He could get used to this; he thinks as he starts playing.

Another hour and he’s yawning. He checks his messages and procrastinates, hovering at the bedroom door. It feels like he’s snooping when he finally makes it into the room. There’s a large double bed with dark shiny sheets. They look clean enough. He has his own in a suitcase. But can he really be fussed? 

He strips off, leaving his clothes where they fall on the carpet. Raises an arm in the air and takes a whiff.

A minute later he's in the shower, admiring the marble and taking the lid off some fancy shower gel – phwoar-what? -  he tosses his head back at the heady scent. He growls For Fucks Sake! when he drops the bottle and sees the splash of dark blue against the white porcelain shower tray. He tops the bottle up with his own Right Guard Zingy Mint, then replaces the lid and inspects the bottle for drips. They smell almost the same, he reasons; his housemate will never notice.

He pads back to the bedroom leaving a trail of wet footprints and towels himself dry, looking around once again. One of the night stands has a reading lamp, and glasses, a couple of books, the other is empty. Presumably his ‘side’ then.

He swallows, slips naked between the sheets and lies there blinking. 

His Mum’s right. For someone with trust issues he’s taken a humongous risk.

He wonders if he should put on some boxers at least, feels his eyes closing. He twitches his nose as a faint masculine scent from the sheets loosens the tightness in his shoulders, and next thing, without even realizing, he’s out for the count.

 A noise downstairs outside the front door wakes him. Is it him, maybe, already back from work? Did he sleep too late the very first morning? But it doesn’t feel late. Quite the opposite.

He grabs a robe that isn’t his own from the back of the bedroom door and flies down the stairs, pulling the sides together which flap open again as he opens the mortice lock and turns the door handle.

He opens the door just enough to peer round. The light has an unfamiliar misty morning quality about it and there’s dew on the flowers by the path. 

Someone’s legs are disappearing through the gate, there’s a rattle of bottles in a crate. Glancing down he sees a shiny bottle of green-top on the doorstep. Colin!

‘Hold on, mate!’ he calls. A round face appears above the hedge. ‘Could you add another bottle a day to the delivery? I’m Aaron and,’ he manages a fleeting smile,’...I’ve just moved in with Robert.’

He sees Colin glance up to the windows of the flat and back at him from over the hedge. He clutches the sides of the gown closer at the waist, suddenly conscious of a light breeze around the nether regions.

Colin says, ‘Nice one!’ and then he’s gone before Aaron has time to add any clarification.

Aaron turns to the house and looks up. Has he made a good decision? Maybe it’s something pretty normal to move out from your parents; but for him, after the court case, this is his first stab at changing something up.

His heart lifts for a moment as he picks up the milk bottle and then glides swiftly up the steps, gown open.

Perhaps Colin’s right – Nice one!

#robron #my writing #fan fic #aaron dingle #robert sugden

[accursedkaleeshi]

Depressing Grievous Headcanon: Separatist Control Measures

        So, I think it is canon that the Separatists did A LOT of horrible shit to Grievous in his abominable rebirth to ensure they had as much control over him as possible. Obviously Sidious put a lot of stock into his capacity for extremely efficient murder. They wouldn’t just build an unstoppable rage machine & let him loose in the galaxy. That bitch is expensive & full of secrets. Did I mention he was EXPENSIVE.

        The Separatist control measures in place for General Grievous were all internal. They built him to be unstoppable from the outside. Dooku could see where he was at all times. There was hardware deep in his head casing that transmitted all of his readings to the sith in charge. His location, his bio & mechanical readouts, his comms which could have extended to splicing into his voice modulator & knowing everything he ever said. Yikes. There were signals he gave off & received that were encrypted specifically so that Grievous would not intercept them himself.

(Maybe he tried to break past the firewalls in his own fucking body once & it alerted the goths. I could write an entire fic about this, what is wrong with me.)

        Other things in his head included a number of neural inhibitor chips like directly in the brain meat. There were definitely 2 that he knew for sure were there that, if he were paying attention, he could pinpoint when & why they activated. There were probably more. The inhibitor chips get their own post bc I use them to explain pieces of TCW Grievous that makes him a bitch ass & its fun.

        I have a headcanon that Grievous usually only slept in a vat (bactavat? You know, evil scientist human-sized vats of mysterious fluid & plot devices) at scheduled times. The Separatists did this as another layer of control like when your parents tell you to call them every 2 hours. They used cyborg naptime to plug stuff in, gather readings, & make sure all of the other control methods were operating. Maybe on occasion the Count would take the opportunity to do some Sith Inception shit (like “You know what would be a great idea? Steal the Chancellor” lol). Grievous was actually perfectly capable of sleeping outside of government mandated patch day, but they gaslit him into thinking he shouldn’t.

        I have pointed out that Grievous’ frame was built to maximize damage in combat & not specifically for longevity. He was the face of the Clone Wars to burn bright & fast. He’s a weaponized Apple product in that was overdesigned on purpose to encourage planned obsolescence. He required very specific parts made from one very top secret set of molds & materials. His bacta vessel (that I am still refusing to call gut sack, thanks) & the specific mixture of bacta & nutrients that kept him alive were top tier secret. Grievous was not allowed to know its composition. Even his punk ass doctor droid was not allowed to know its composition. The Separatists did this to try & ensure that if Grievous ever DID manage to go rogue, if all of their control measures failed, that he was in for a slow, miserable death in which there was no honor. (Sidenote: he would definitely be smart enough to adapt but he definitely already wanted to die so, it’s a toss up.)

        Last thing I will bring up: I think there was almost definitely a remote kill switch. Like it’d be dumb as shit to build a killer robot with anger issues & 4 laser swords & NOT put a kill switch in it, right? Palpatine probably had the button. Grievous just assumed there was a kill switch, bc he’s not stupid, so being instantly nuked on the whim of Sidious was usually enough for him to follow orders he might not have wanted to. (Save Nute Gunray’s ass, save Dooku’s ass from the same witch two times, etc.) Grievous also operated under the assumption that if he crossed his sith masters hard enough, not only would they just body him, they would turn their turrets on Kalee.

        Super secret collab headcanons about the kill switch that you get for actually reading all of this (& a kiss bc ilu): The kill switch wasn’t anything sophisticated, just a little charge. Planted right on the back of his heart. If activated it would fuck up all of the pumps in there, shorting everything into overdrive until catastrophic failure. Best case scenario for him: someone kills him while this is happening or something explodes. Otherwise, if he just stopped running it’d take like 5 to 10 minutes for his brain to starve & die. He’d have enough time be fully aware that Sidious didn’t even have the decency to grant him a swift death & be pissed before loss of functions.

@37-battle-droids, my cohort at Sad Star Wars Dudes University, suggested a hypothetical plot point wherein Wat Tambor may have been so proud of his work on Grievous that he sabotaged the kill switch. Which, in the context of the Battle of Coruscant, would be hilarious if Grievous decided “What if I just killed this old guy in front of his grand republic army” & Palpatine lowkey frantically clicking a button like, “shitshitshit”.

#accursed!grievous #sad grievous text post day #sw headcanons #I didn't say killswitch engage once

[thran-duils]

Am I On the Screen? (P.1)

Title: Am I On the Screen? (Part One) Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Summary: Hugh is a prick and the reader gets herself into trouble with him with her attitude. Hugh has the perfect plan to keep her in line though. Words: 2,116 Warnings: S M U T, language, dub-con, blackmail, masturbation, online sex Author’s Notes: If something like this has been done already, welp, I suck.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Are you, are you filming me? Am I, am I on the screen? 'Cause it feels like your watching me 'Cause it feels like they’re watching me Am I on the screen?

-- Are You Filming Me? // twst

Marta’s laugh faltered and she cleared her throat, her eyes averting from the doorway quickly. You turned your head to look over your shoulder and saw what had made her stop laughing. Hugh. He sure had a way of sucking the air out of a room, especially with that glower he was pointing in the two of your direction.

“Hugh,” you greeted him civilly, turning the shrimp over in the pan. “Are you hungry?”

“Not for anything that you are making,” Hugh responded rudely, walking past you towards the fridge.

You shot Marta a vexed look and she rose her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Well, there’s some take out on the second shelf in the fridge that I can assure you I had nothing to do with. I just picked it up for my lunch. If you want, I’ll trade you that for a plate of what I’m making,” you said, unable to help yourself.

Hugh stopped, his hand on the handle of the fridge. Unamused, he stared at you for a few moments before saying, “You should watch your mouth, Y/N.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you quipped, turning the stove off, and moving to arrange Harlan’s plate.

You could feel Hugh’s glare burning into your back and you smirked to yourself at having gotten under his skin even just a little bit. The prick deserved to be knocked down a couple pegs.

<><><>

Gym bag slung over your shoulder, you slammed your car door closed and locked it. On the way up to your townhouse door, you unlocked your mailbox and grabbed the papers inside. You were looking forward to your shower, thinking of the sweet relief you would get from the hot water.

Upon opening your front door, you almost stepped onto an envelope that had been slid underneath the door. You closed the door and turned around, placing your bag down along with the other mail on the entrance table. You swooped down and picked up the unmarked envelope, confused why it had not just been slipped into your mailbox.

“What…” you muttered, staring down at the photos.

Bile rose in your throat realizing what it was. They were screenshots of you from your OnlyFans account during one of your live events. And you quickly noticed it was not from just one; there were a handful of them, you in different lingerie, different toys. A note was with the pictures.

I want you to say my name when you’re riding that large, pretty, purple dildo tonight.

Who sent you this and why? There was no name attached to it. And how the hell did they know where you lived? A chill crept down your spine, thinking of all the true crime documentaries that you had binged and all the women who were kidnapped and murdered, their bodies never found.

Unnerved, you tore the photos and the note up, rushing towards the kitchen. You shoved the ruined remains in the trash, shoving them as far down as you could. Stepping back, your eyes were glued to the trashcan, anxiety creeping. What if you had a stalker?

You bit your lip, trying to think of all the ways you could protect yourself if you were approached on the street or god forbid, someone broke into your home.

The clock caught your attention, and you swore, realizing you had been standing there for fifteen minutes worrying and had cut into your shower time. You still needed to get to work. Trying to ignore the nagging anxiety, you rushed to get ready.

<><><>

Throughout the day, your mind had continuously returned to the note and the pictures. You could not go to the police to file a report or anything, they would think you were being over dramatic. Plus, you were not keen on sharing your account and really, no one had done anything illegal. Still, you were frightened.

At the end of the day when dinner was finished and you had breakfast set up for the morning for Marta to get ready for Harlan when she got there in the morning, you stopped at the bathroom on the way out the door to relieve yourself before the drive home. When you opened the door, you jumped seeing Hugh standing there, just waiting, looking very much a predator.

Hugh rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning in and effectively blocking your way out of the bathroom.

“Do you need something?” you asked, your tone short. On top of the anxiety you already had, you did not want to deal with this dickhead. When had he shown up anyway?

His smile did not reach his eyes as his eyes wandered down, unabashedly soaking you in. Your mouth set into a thin line. If he was trying to unnerve you by being a pompous ass, he was going to have to try harder than throwing you a lewd look.

“Did you get my gift?” Hugh asked nonchalantly. Your brow stitched, confused. He leaned in closer, a malicious glint in his eyes. “I’d prefer it if you reverse cowgirl’d it while you’re saying my name.”

Your breath froze in your chest and he knew the moment that it clicked for you, an arrogant smile painted on his lips.

“You… bastard,” you got out, before trying to move past him.

He blocked your way again and you clenched your jaw, fury thrumming underneath your skin at the smug look on his face.

“Does my grandfather not pay you enough? I would imagine he does but maybe you’ve got more expensive tastes than you give off,” Hugh ridiculed you. He rose his brows and whispered, “Or maybe you just like knowing there are people getting off to that perfectly round ass.” You tried to get around him again and he chuckled, blocking your way once more. “Did I hit a nerve, babydoll?”

He gripped your jaw and you tried to jerk away but he clamped down harder, stopping you from doing so. “I’ve been watching you for a while. You put on quite the show. I just can’t seem to bring myself to actually bury myself inside you though. I’ve certainly thought about it… showing up at your place and making you wrap those beautiful lips around my cock. But I beat off to whores, not fuck them. Keeps me clean.”

You slapped his hand away, angry tears stinging at your eyes. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Not until you tell me you’re gonna do like I asked.”

Scoffing, you told him as calmly as you could, “I don’t do it for free.”

“Oh, you aren’t,” Hugh assured you. “I already pay to subscribe, remember? But trust me, your job is on the line. What if I showed my grandfather what his cook is doing afterhours? Do you think he would want to keep a slut employed and tied to his name? That is a lot of money on the table and so you aren’t doing it for free. And don’t even think about quitting because I’ll find out where you work. And I have no problem sending the photos there too. So… you’re kind of stuck with me, pumpkin.”

He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to nod as he mimicked a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, Hugh, I’ll beg for you’.” In his regular voice, he practically purred, “C’mon, Y/N. Say it nice and clear for daddy.”

You had no choice. You knew he would make good on his threats; he was not one to mess around about people not following his orders.

Strained, you told him, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He cupped his hand to his ear, “’I’ll do it…’”

You grated, “Daddy.”

“Perfect. You’re a peach,” Hugh told you grinning. He leaned back, dropping his arm. As soon as you saw the exit, you made to rush past him. At the last second, he reached out, grasping your arm and stopping your momentum. “Oh, and by the way… that purple heart plug too. Just to match.”

He gave you one last self-satisfied smirk before letting go of you and you took off, feeling his eyes burn into the back of your head.

<><><>

Legs spread in front of the camera, you tweaked your nipple through your black lace bra. You had put your garter and thigh highs on to match but were panty less. You had already stripped and done some oral play, something the commenters could not seem to ever get enough of.

You uttered his name for the first time, “I want Hugh.”

Your finger running tantalizingly slow down your slit, staring into the camera. You hated how much it sounded like ‘you’, meaning anyone could be hearing it thinking nothing of it. But you knew Hugh was getting off on knowing you were saying his name.

Pressing your fingers in, you spread your lips, showing yourself off to the camera. A new slew of messages popped up, encouraging you to play with your clit.

“I’m sure you wish it was you,” you breathed, well versed on dirty talk during your live feeds. “I’m sure your fingers would be so much better…” You slipped a finger in. “Your fingers instead filling me up. Getting me ready for that big cock of yours.”

You were good and wet now, comments coming in lusting after the glisten on your lips. Remembering what he asked, your fingers left your sex and you got up, moving the camera to the ground and angled upwards. Grabbing the dildo, you wet the bottom of it, suctioning it to the hardwood floor. For good measure, you added a healthy amount of lube to the dildo, making sure the camera could see your hand massaging it, a sly smirk on your face.

None of this would be out of the ordinary if it was not for the fact you knew Hugh was watching. You could not get the image of him sitting behind his screen, his hand stroking himself watching you abide to his whims.

Spreading your cheeks, you showed off the plug and heard the chime of new messages being sent. You could not help but smile, knowing that was a treat for the viewers. The head of the dildo entered you and you moaned softly. You started slow, adjusting to the girth, moving inch by inch down the length. Gradually, you increased the depth and speed, encouraging whoever was watching to think about their own dicks fucking you like this.

“I want Hugh to fuck me,” you gasped, riding the dildo quickly, your fingers stroking your clit. You were getting close and you leaned completely into it, your mind a haze. “I want Hugh to fuck me so bad. Hugh can cum inside me, fill me up. I’ll take every inch, daddy. Please fuck me. I’m your dirty girl.” Your hand was moving erratically and a few more strokes sent you tumbling over the edge. You gasped, seeing stars, clenching around the dildo.

You sat there for a couple moments, relishing in your high.

As your mind cleared, your cheeks burned thinking about all the things you had said lost to your passion. The thought of Hugh’s hand covered in his cum, head thrown back at your complete submission to his request flashed through your mind. Thankfully, your face was away from the camera and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. And also thankfully, your red face could be attributed to that mind blowing orgasm you just gave yourself.

The dildo was wet when you came up off of it and you picked up the camera, taking it with you to sit it back down in front of your station.

Your eyes met the camera again and you gave it a sensual smile, your eyes flicking to all the new comments, positive encouragement ringing throughout them. Your hand slipped down to your cunt and you brought your fingers up to your lips, sucking on them gently.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll think about your hands washing me down,” you told the camera before blowing it a kiss. “Good night.”

As soon as the camera was off, your hands shook as you brought them back to your lap.

That had been a great orgasm. And you hated it.

Your phone buzzed and you whipped your head around to look at it over on your bed. Standing up, you picked it up, staring down at the text. You did not have the number saved but you knew damn well who it was and how he had gotten it in the first place.

I’m gonna break my rule. Don’t shower. Keep that pussy glistening for me.

~~~

Tags: @coconutqueen21

#ransom drysdale x reader #hugh drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #my shit

[classysassy9791]

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor/Fluff Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

The conclusion for this little fic that has waited 6 years for completion. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Thank you to @akitokihojo for being such a stellar beta for this fic, and helping it come to its completion. Couldn't have done it without you!

For @inukag-week Day 6: Transformation.

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l

Part 4 Word Count: 2,000

Can also be found on FFN and AO3

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It had been a very long time since Kagome had experienced a hangover.

The buzzing in her brain soon became too much to ignore as it beckoned her to consciousness. She opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. Sunlight peeking from beneath the closed curtains indicated it was daytime and she silently thanked herself for being smart enough to close them before leaving her apartment the evening before.

Kagome wrapped the duvet around herself and tried to grasp a hold on the fleeting darkness of unconsciousness. She knew nothing would cure a hangover except time, and she would rather spend it floating through dreamless sleep than deal with the repercussions head-on. Waves of nausea added to her misery and she could faintly smell whiskey with each exhale - a scent that was intoxicating last night, yet this morning it only caused her stomach to twist further.

Her phone pinged with a message, but she didn't dare even try to reach for it, the annoyingly bright glare of her phone not exactly something she wanted to sabotage herself with. As the minutes passed by, she became more acutely aware of her brain feeling like it would swell beyond the capacity of her skull, and her dehydration became too obvious to ignore. Her tongue felt like cotton as she licked her dry, cracked lips. Damn, why did the morning after always have to remind her of what a bad decision the night before was?

She squinted and finally set her gaze on her nightstand. A surprising wave of relief washed over her. Drunk Kagome must have had an intelligent moment, for on her nightstand stood a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. As quickly as she dared, she propped herself up on one elbow, trying to ignore the slight spin of the room, before greedily popping two pills and finishing the water. Even so, her thirst was far from quenched.

As Kagome tried to sort through her memories of the night before, she quickly registered that she had no memory of coming home last night. The last, clear recollection she could come up with had her sitting at the bar with Inuyasha and sharing a shot with the bartender.

"Shit," she groaned, hanging her head before precariously pulling her legs from beneath her blanket. Blacking out from drinking had been a favorite past time of hers back in her early college days. It wasn't because she didn't know her own limits when it came to being intoxicated, but back then, she simply didn't care. Drinking had been her favorite vice when it came to dealing with the pressures of school, boyfriends, and girl drama. It had been years since she had felt the need to get obliterated so completely.

Finally finding her courage, Kagome reached over and unlocked her phone. The red battery sign at the top meant it was almost dead, so she quickly scrolled through all the alerts on her phone. There had been way too many messages and missed calls from Hojo, which triggered the memory of the picture she had sent him. Her nausea increased ten-fold. Regret was a spiteful bitch.

Hojo was going to be the afternoon's problem. Maybe even tomorrow's problem. All Kagome knew was that it wasn't going to be a now problem.

Kagome plugged in her phone and once she was on her feet, the room swayed, almost causing her to lose balance. She stumbled out into the hallway to her bathroom to relieve herself. When she finished, she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face just to feel something refreshing. The person's face who greeted her in the mirror no longer resembled the glamorous girl of the night. Only a woman's face awash with guilt, a wrinkled set of pajamas, and hair that was far from attractive.

From the other end of the apartment, Kagome suddenly heard a key turning in her front door. Immediately, she felt panic rise in her throat, eyes going wide. No one had a key to her apartment, not even Hojo, so unless she had been robbed last night - which she very may well have considering she had very little memory of it - no one should be coming over.

She swallowed thickly against her cotton throat and grabbed the first weapon at her fingertips - a plunger. Yeah, she wasn't winning any awards for being clever, but she was hungover and scared for her life.

Kagome crept down the hallway toward the front door and nearly lost her breath at who she saw standing in her entryway. The man from the bar last night - Inuyasha? - was making his way to her kitchen with a carrier filled with coffee and a bag from her favorite breakfast joint down the block.

"Good morning," he greeted casually, not at all thrown off by her presence as he set down his packages on the counter. "I brought you breakfast."

Rage and astonishment swelled in her chest. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!"

He winced and held his hands over his ears before turning to glare at her. "If you could wait until after eight in the morning to start yelling, I'd really appreciate it."

"You didn't answer my question," she seethed, wide eyes sweeping the rest of the apartment for evidence as to what exactly happened last night?!

Inuyasha studied her from across the room and laughed at her dumbfounded expression. "Did you think I was a burglar or something? What's with the plunger?"

Kagome looked down at the plunger she held in his direction like a sword, and felt a blush bloom across her cheeks. She hurriedly hid it behind her back. "W-What was I supposed to think?"

He simply rolled his eyes. "Do you want breakfast or not?"

She bit her lip, but couldn't deny the ravenous hunger eating away at her stomach. Probably half the reason why she was so nauseous. Without saying another word, she slipped back into the bathroom to put away her weapon before meeting him in the kitchen. The sweet aroma of coffee and fresh bagels greeted her. She could've kissed him all over again.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee, so I got cream and sugar just in case."

Kagome slowly sat down in the chair across from him, watching him slather some cream cheese on his bagel and drink his black coffee. She racked her brain as to exactly why Inuyasha was in her apartment, and then flashes of the night before came rushing back, of sloppy passionate kisses and tangled sheets.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

Inuyasha studied the array of emotions that flickered across her face while he slowly chewed his bite of bagel and then swallowed. "Kagome, how much do you remember of last night?"

She bit her lip, shameful eyes lifting to his. "Um, well…" Her gaze fell to her person, realizing she was no longer wearing the sequined black dress she had gone out in. All the evidence pointed to a girl she wanted no relation to, making decisions that were very, very regrettable.

"We didn't sleep together."

Kagome's eyes flew to Inuyasha's, his deep voice quelling her fears. "We-We didn't?"

Amber eyes watched her carefully before turning back to his bagel. "No, we didn't. I'm not the kinda guy who beds a girl when she's drunk. Not my style."

A breath Kagome didn't know she had been holding escaped her lips. She had never been the type of girl to have one-night-stands. Her friends always teased her about it, but it was something she prided herself in. Having sex with someone wasn't something she did on a whim. She wanted to know she meant more to someone than an easy lay.

Her brows furrowed as she sipped on her coffee. "If we didn't sleep together, then why are you here?" she questioned. It would've been one thing if she had woken up with a naked man in her bed and kicked him out because of sheer embarrassment. It was another thing entirely that a man she didn't sleep with would bring her breakfast in the morning.

Inuyasha shrugged. "I was too tired to get another ride home last night, so I slept on your couch."

Kagome glanced over the breakfast bar to see a blanket and pillow on her couch as evidence that it had been occupied the night before.

"You know, you probably shouldn't drink so much."

She threw him a glare. "Did I ask for your judgement?"

He shrugged. "I'm just sayin'. Letting a stranger take you home because you're too drunk isn't exactly attractive."

Kagome scoffed. "Oh, thanks for the help," she snipped sarcastically. "What would I've done without you?"

Inuyasha grinned. "Probably throw a party to celebrate my absence."

"Probably, yeah," she hotly agreed. "I would've been just fine on my own."

"Maybe."

She frowned, flashes of last night starting to come back. They had been two heartbroken strangers in a bar who found comfort in their shared misery. Under the neon flashing lights and upbeat techno music, they gravitated toward one another like moths to a flame. But by morning they had transformed; she no longer represented the alluring woman who bewitched him, and he no longer appeared as the mysterious man who captivated her.

Now, she was simply Kagome Higurashi - a woman who was dumped by her fiance and had a mile-long to-do list regarding cleaning up their frayed relationship. And he was simply Inuyasha.

Kagome inwardly cringed. She didn't even know his last name. Or what he did for work. Or anything about him really.

Just fucking great.

"Look, Inuyasha," she began, setting down her coffee. "I appreciate everything you, er, did for me, but-"

"When we're done here, we should go on a real date."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Why not?"

"You have got to be joking," Kagome said while shaking her head. "One-night stands are literally just for one night, and we definitely would not work out."

He grinned. "Damn. That's a quick deduction there."

Kagome blushed. "I just mean that, last night… it was great and all, but…"

"It's daytime and the whole world's changed?" Inuyasha finished for her.

She sighed and looked away. He was right. Things were different. Last night didn't happen often for her, and bringing home a guy to her apartment never happened. If it were up to her, she'd stuff last night in a box as a precious memory and then forget it ever happened.

"I'm not saying I'm over Kikyou."

Kagome met his gaze. His eyes locked onto her, and held not an ounce of mirth. He was serious about this. He wanted to see if this could become something.

"And I doubt you're over your ex-fiance," he continued. "But, last night was fun. You're different and piss me off to no end-"

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

He sighed and after a moment finally stood up. "Look. You seem like a great girl. But I'm not one to beg. Thanks for the couch." Slipping his phone into his back pocket, he turned to leave.

"Inuyasha, wait!" Kagome called as she chased after him.

Dammit. This guy was so infuriating! He insulted her, and called her names, and angered her enough to make her slap him upside the head. But he also made her laugh, and feel alive, and made her want to kiss him again and again.

She couldn't deny that she wanted to see him again.

Grabbing his elbow, she made him stop in his tracks and look over his shoulder at her. "What?"

"This…" she started, fumbling for the right words. "This is never going to work. You and I."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'll pick you up at six."

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Within a moment of him leaving, Kagome realized something: Meeting Inuyasha was either going to be the best luck she ever had, or the very worst. At least, on the bright side, he had already witnessed her at her lowest.

How bad could it be?

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfiction #inukag week #sassy stays classy #my fanfiction #double shot of heaven

[king-finnigan]

5 times Geralt tried to propose to Jaskier and 1 time he didn’t

The last part of my 500 followers celebration! Once again, thank you guys so much! Masterlist!

I don’t know if modern AU deserves a content warning. But consider this a CW: Modern AU, I guess.

***

I.

He’s nervous. Really nervous. Wiping-sweaty-palms-on-your-shirt-nervous. Cannot-eat-anything-nervous. About-to-propose-to-your-boyfriend-of-four-years-nervous.

He bought the ring about a month ago, and spent the weeks after that planning this entire thing meticulously. They would go to the park where they had their first date, he would buy Jaskier ice cream, just like he did the first time, and he would propose at the bench next to the lake, where they had their first kiss. It would be perfect.

Of course, Geralt isn’t really one for big proposals and romantic gestures, but he knows Jaskier likes it, so he guesses he can bear doing it this once. And maybe every day after that, as long as it makes his love happy. But of course, first things first – the proposal.

The day goes swimmingly, and he can tell Jaskier’s having a good time. Of course, his love doesn’t really hide his emotions – not in the way Geralt tended to do, before he met Jaskier – so it’s not that hard to tell how happy Jaskier is.

And, when they finally reach the lake, he reaches into his pocket, ready to get down on one knee while Jaskier stares out over the water. This is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment he’s been preparing for weeks, the moment he’ll show the entire world how much he loves Jaskier and that he’ll always love him.

His fingers dig into his pocket. And find empty air.

He frowns, trying again, digging deeper. Huh. He tries his other pocket, which is also empty, save for his phone. Shit. His back pockets are empty, too, and he tries them all again, just to be sure. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit.

Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “You alright, love? Looking for something?”

He digs into his empty pockets one last time, before limply letting his hands fall by his side. “No, it’s alright. Just thought I’d lost my phone.”

Jaskier smiles, takes his hand softly, and starts pulling Geralt away from the lake. “Come on, let’s go home, it’s getting late.”

And suddenly this perfect day isn’t so perfect anymore.

He finds the ring in the pocket of his leather jacket, at home.

 II.

So the first time he tried to propose didn’t end well. That’s alright. It happens. Jaskier is still very unaware of Geralt’s plans, so he still has time to fix his mistake. So, he decides to take Jaskier on a shopping trip – because Jaskier loves shopping – and bring him to the Starbucks Jaskier used to work at as a barista, where they first met. Sure, it’s not exactly the most romantic spot, but he figures that maybe he can get their drinks for them, and slip the ring over the straw or something like that.

And the day goes well. Jaskier has a good time buying some knickknacks for their home and some decorative pillows because all respectable adults have decorative pillows, Geralt, and they’ll make a great Instagram post. When he insists on buying Geralt a forest-green sweater, Geralt rolls his eyes but lets Jaskier, anyways.

He’s nervous again, when they walk to the Starbucks, even though it’s the second time he’s trying to propose, and he’s sure Jaskier will say yes. Of course, his love notices his fidgeting, and asks him what’s wrong. Geralt just shakes his head, the knot in his throat preventing him from speaking.

And then they find out the Starbucks has been replaced with a McDonald’s. Fucking brilliant.

He’s not going to propose in a fastfood restaurant, thank you very much. The idea of it happening in a Starbucks was already pushing it, but no way is he gonna do it in a McDonald’s of all places.

So, they walk back to the car, Jaskier telling him it’s alright, and there’s no need to be disappointed, there are plenty of other Starbucks’ elsewhere, as the ring burns a hole in Geralt’s pocket.

 III.

He gives up on romantic gestures. Instead, he buys a bouquet of blue roses on his way home from work – Jaskier loves blue roses, he knows.

But when he opens the door to their apartment, he finds their home empty and dark. He frowns, turning on the light as he walks into the kitchen, seeing a sticky note on the fridge door.

Girls night with Yen. Be back before sunrise, it says, and Geralt lets out a sigh. He had forgotten about the fact that Jaskier and Yen would be going to a party today. And when those two go out together, bad things happen. Not bad bad things, of course, but he’s sure that Jaskier won’t be home before 7, will either still be drunk or already hungover, and will also probably bring back another traffic sign that Geralt will have to dispose of someway, somehow. Probably by taking it straight to the dump, like he did last time Jaskier came home with a stop sign. And the time before that. And the time before that.

Let’s hope he doesn’t come home with another stray cat, though, like he did two years ago. And a year ago. And about six months ago. And last week. Geralt’s tired of bringing animals to the shelter and having to leave them behind. Of course, it doesn’t help that he kept the first cat Jaskier brought home and named it Roach – now his love feels encouraged to take animals with him when he’s drunk.

He sighs, scratching the brown cat between her ears, before he lays the bouquet on the living room table and heads to bed.

Jaskier, in a bizarre move, brings home a goat the next morning, and – still very drunk – refuses to tell Geralt where the fuck he got it from.

 IV.

Alright, fine, so there’s no way he can plan it beforehand. So, he decides on a whim, to take the ring out of his pocket when they’re doing the dishes one day, after he’s pulled the plug out of the drain. Except his hands are soapy, and the ring slips out of his fingers, carried into the drain by the last bit of dish water.

He can’t help the loud ‘fuck!’ that falls from his mouth. Jaskier looks at him weirdly. “Everything alright, love? You look a bit pale.”

Geralt blinks, then nods, hurrying to get the tools from the storage closet in the hall. “Yeah, but I think the drain is clogged. Gonna have to open it up.”

Jaskier shrugs, walking into the living room, turning on the tv. “You need any help with that?” he asks, despite already scrolling through Netflix, as Roach settles into his lap.

Geralt shakes his head as he hurries back to the kitchen. “Nope, I can handle this!” he calls out, before slamming the door behind him.

He manages to get the ring from the pipes under the sink, luckily, but gets drenched in dirty water in the process.

 V.

Today is the day, he decides, as he makes his way up the stairs to their apartment. Today is the day he proposes. He’s gonna go inside, get down on one knee immediately, and ask Jaskier to marry him. There is no way it can go wrong this time. Today. Is. The. Day.

In his absentmindedness, he doesn’t notice the small puddle of rain water on one of the steps, and slips, hitting his head on the concrete. He curses, manoeuvring himself so he’s sitting down on the steps, clutching his painful forehead.

When he pulls his hand away, there’s blood sticking to his fingers. Well, fuck. He gets up again, making his way up to their apartment, letting himself in. As soon as he steps into the living room, Jaskier is pressing against him, looking at his forehead. “What the hell happened?”

“I slipped on the stairs.”

Jaskier tuts, shirt sleeve wiping away some of the blood that’s dripping down the side of Geralt’s face. “That’s gonna need stitches, love.”

Bloody brilliant.

They spent the rest of their evening in the ER, Jaskier grasping Geralt’s hand in both of his, Geralt pressing an old rag against the cut on his forehead.

 + I

A week later, he can’t say no when Jaskier begs him to take him to that nice restaurant a few blocks away. He decides not to propose, that evening,  because firstly, proposing in a fancy restaurant is incredibly cliché, and the last thing he wants is for it to be cliché. A weird proposal? Yes. An unromantic proposal? Sure. But a cliché proposal? Absolutely not.

Secondly, he decides not to propose because there are a million and one things that could go wrong. And, with the way his past attempts have been going, the lower the risk, the better. He’s fairly certain that, by now, if he were to try to propose tonight, the restaurant would likely catch on fire or something.

So, he just has a nice, lovely dinner with Jaskier. And it’s great, it’s a great evening, it’s a great restaurant, and he’s having great fun. Until dessert, when things go wrong.

Because of fucking course things go wrong.

Jaskier orders a moelleux for dessert, and Geralt notes in the back of his mind that the lady at the table next to them orders the same thing, but he pays no mind to it. After a while, the desserts arrive, almost simultaneously, and Jaskier crunches his nose in disgust when he sees a few mint leaves on his moelleux – he hates mint. Geralt laughs at his expression, though it falls when Jaskier takes away the mint leaves, revealing a ring underneath.

Firstly, he notices that the ring isn’t the one he bought for Jaskier, now several months ago. His is silver, with a light blue diamond that matches Jaskier’s eyes. The one on the moelleux is… hideous, in his opinion. It’s gold, with a large disc on it, full of little diamonds that sparkle obnoxiously in the low light of the restaurant, so bright it almost hurts his eyes.

Secondly, he notices that Jaskier’s expression turns from confused, to slightly disappointed, to a fake exhilarated. He can tell his love doesn’t like the ring, either. Which, under any other circumstances, would be a good thing – something to make fun of when they get back home. Except Jaskier understandably thinks this is the ring Geralt bought for him. After all, why else would it be on his dessert?

Thirdly, he notices the clatter of a fork falling on the ground at the table next to them. He looks to his side, and sees the guy staring at the moelleux in horror and confusion, while his girlfriend looks at it with jealousy. Ah. He understands the mix-up, now.

He sighs, plucking the ring – which weighs quite a lot, really – from the moelleux, handing it to the guy next to him. “I believe this is yours.”

The man takes it, mouth slightly agape, before shutting it with a snap, nodding frantically, before turning to his girlfriend. He and Jaskier watch as she takes the ring, practically screams her ‘yes, I will marry you’, and the guy slips the ring on her finger.

Jaskier smiles at him. “For a second there, I thought you were going to propose to me with that ring,” he whispers to Geralt.

Geralt scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no, I would never. That was definitely not my ring.”

Jaskier cocks his head, frowns. “That was definitely not your ring?”

Well, shit. He fucked up. Again.

He presses his lips together, fishes the ring with the blue diamond from his pocket, and slides it across the table towards Jaskier.

The whole restaurant stares at them when Jaskier starts laughing like a maniac. Geralt waits until his love is done laughing, until Jaskier has his forehead on the table, hiccupping out small giggles. “What’s so funny?”

He pales when Jaskier takes a ring out of his own pocket, handing it to Geralt. It’s silver, with a yellow diamond in the middle that matches his eyes. Almost an exact copy of the ring he got for Jaskier. He barks out a laugh, as well, laying his forehead against his palm. “God, what a mess.”

“So,” Jaskier whispers to him. “Will you marry me?”

Geralt can’t help but smile. “Will you?”

Jaskier snorts, taking the ring from Geralt again, slipping it on his finger. “I assume that’s a yes. And yes, I will marry you too.”

Geralt, in turn, takes the ring he bought for Jaskier, slipping it on his love’s finger. “Good, cause I’m tired of trying to propose to you.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #drabble #modern au #5 + 1 things #500 followers celebration #yes i know rings usually come in boxes #but #geralt is a himbo #bless him

[vampiresuns]

🍋 Private Diversions

1.7k words. That Tamryn and Anatole weren’t attending the Midsummer Masquerade didn’t mean they couldn’t bring it home. Tamryn belongs to @valhallanrose​

Written for the @midsummer-masquerade​, Day 1, using the prompts ‘Marking’ and ‘Temperature play’. Lemon ahead, Minors DNI.

You can read the rest of ‘City of Delights’, here.

CW: Dom/sub dynamics, anal fingering, penetration.

“I knew you weren’t going but,” Tamryn shook his head, frowning, “I thought you said you’d take this as having a free week, finally.”

Anatole hummed, echoed by the sound of his quill scribbling away. “It is a free week if I don’t have to go to the Palace.”

Anatole put his quill down, resting his hand over Tamryn’s. “It also means I can catch up on the job as I see fit, if I so desire. I do like working with people, but sometimes I do need them all to shut up.”

He moved his hand away to resume his scribbling. Revising documentation was a never-ending task, but it was a worthwhile one when he had to do it for investigative purposes. Linguistics and policy planning remained two of Anatole’s greatest passions. 

He didn’t notice Tamryn frowning again, deeper this time, but he could sense it in his voice. 

“I’m going to lay on your desk. You can’t work if I’m in the way.”

“Tamryn, this is the bedroom secretaire — if you break it I’ll find another room to sleep in, and that is a threat.”

“You’d do that?”

“You know I wouldn’t, but I am working, Tamryn. Just give me a moment.”

Instead of giving him a moment, Tamryn put his knee on the edge of the desk. “No, not for long you aren’t.”

Anatole stopped scribbling, pausing his timer spell so the bright orange clock stopped turning. When Tamryn met him, he used to make the spells another colour, a softer hue between mauve and champagne that Tamryn couldn’t see, resulting in a number of unintended interruptions from his behalf to Nana’s time blocking methods. However, as soon as he pressed himself to do it, Anatole changed the colour, so it was something Tamryn could see without trouble. He had kissed his jaw and told him it was no problem, as he didn’t want Tamryn to feel guilty about interrupting him. 

That way, he had said back then, he could choose what to do better, even if once again he assured him Tamryn was very welcome to draw his attention, and if Anatole couldn’t give him his right then, he’d find the time. He always found the time. He had also said that that way, if Tamryn didn’t see it, they could attribute it to him being a dumbass. 

Tamryn’s sole remark had been Anatole liked him that way. 

Noticing the cease in the sound of quill on paper, Tam moved his knee away, a triumphant look on his face that grew when Anatole moved away from his desk, and evaporated when he settled somewhere else. The orange clock began ticking again. 

“You do realise I can just move my things away, don’t you?”

Tamryn pulled out his tongue at him before he moved closer to Anatole again. “And you do realise I’m obnoxious and I will follow you until you put your work away?”

Anatole turned to him, standing toe to toe with Tamryn, as if they were the same height. They weren’t but that had never stopped him. Besides, both of them knew Anatole’s presence was somehow taller, heels or no heels involved, and Tamryn would be lying if he didn’t admit it sent a shiver over his skin. Anatole just had presence, and the bastard knew how to use it. 

“I can always work on top of you.”

Tamryn smirked as he began playing with one of Anatole’s locks. “Kinky, though if you’re going to be on top of me, I rather you were working hard on something else.”

Anatole hummed again, squinting up at Tam. That did sound tempting. “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes.

With an incredulous face Anatole found adorable, Tamryn let out a whistling, victorious ‘yes’. Anatole shook his head as he let his boyfriend walk away, towards the bed, as he removed his shirt faster than he could repeat his own name and threw himself on top of it. 

“So, what are you waiting for?”

Anatole kicked his shoes off, climbing on the bed. However, he had not let go of his papers and his squill; he was still holding onto them when he climbed over Tamryn, straddling his chest to sit down over his sternum with his full weight. 

He turned the page and Tamryn wheezed. 

“You did say I should work in something else,” Anatole said absently, in that ennui filled, small-talk tone he used when he wanted to rile Tamryn up, or tease him. “You never said what in.”

“It was implied.”

“Was it? Well, I could shorten my timeblock and finish this tomorrow, but I still want to finish this go, so why don’t you behave for once in your life.”

Tamryn could not resist the challenge. Maybe Anatole wasn’t trying to raise one, maybe he was. Tamryn knew he liked challenges and that he liked to win them, but he also liked to make Tamryn whine and usually got away with it. Perhaps he could do both. Raise a challenge and butter him up with sweet tones. 

It didn’t work. Anatole smiled instead, and pressed his quill against Tamryn’s lips. He didn’t look at him, however. “It is very cute when you try to be all sweet, but do be quiet. You can be a good boy for me, can you not? The better behaved you are for me now, the better it’ll be for you in the end.”

Maybe Tamryn had insisted because he knew this would be the outcome. He sounded more eager than he intended when he told Anatole he could be good for him.  When Anatole called him his “good boy” he knew he was done for. Just no how much. As Anatole worked, he began idly tracing patterns over Tamryn’s skin with the feather end of his quill. Ticklish as Tam was he tried his best not to squirm but the longer Anatole did it, the harder it was to not move. 

He tried his best until the time spell ran out. Anatole sighed, reaching forward to leave his papers and his quill on the night-table. He sat back on top on Tamryn, only a little further down this time. “If it was that tortuous not to move, you should’ve told me.”

Tamryn squirmed a little underneath him, as Anatole began running his fingertips with a feather light touch over his ticklish spots. “I wanted to be good.”

“Oh, you are being very good, Tamryn, my very good boy. I should ease it up a little for you, would you like that?”

“Please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Anatole did not ease it up. For a moment, Tamryn thought he would. He began running his hands over his torso, his sides, his arms; hands which decreased and increased in temperature, slow and steady. Anatole’s right hand got colder, his left one warmer. They traced patterns on his skin, increasing and decreasing in temperature, until they changed — his left one growing colder, and his right one warmer, as he traced the same places they did before. 

Anatole moved a little further back, kneeling between Tamryn’s legs. He pressed a cold hand to his stomach, forbidding him to move unless Anatole told him to. He only told him to move so he could lift his hips as he pulled his pants and underwear down. Anatole leaned forward to press a kiss to his hip bone as he ran his hands over his legs. 

With his hands on the crease between his upper thigh and his hips, Anatole told him to wait. 

He got up to get various things he planned on using: his dick, a plug for Tamryn, lubricant. He warmed the latter up and scooped some with the fingers of his cool hand. He cooled it after, and scooped some with the fingers of his warm hand. 

“Colours, sweetheart, do you have them in mind?”

“Yes.”

“Safeword.”

“Yes, sir.”

Anatole smirked. “Good boy.”

He wrapped his warm hand with cool lube around Tam’s cock, stroking him slowly, pressing his thumb against the slit on his head, toying with his piercing there. He pressed one of his fingers from his cool hand with warm lube against his ass, doing circles until he pushed in. 

Tamryn whined. Anatole was unable to resist teasing him as he began moving his hands, coordinating each movement and adding another figner when Tamryn could take it. He built him up, going at it for a little longer than necessary. What could he say? He thought Tamryn looked pretty when he whined and sounded even prettier when he begged. 

The idea came to him on a whim: to put his mouth on the soft skin of the inside of his thighs, leaving lovebites on both of them, watching them bloom as he continued to finger Tamryn. He was a begging mess; past the point of caring how he sounded or looked like, he became a malleable matter to anything Anatole wished to do onto him, which is exactly how Anatole liked his men: handsome, hopefully with nice tits, begging for him. 

Anatole left lovebites over his hip bones too, fingering Tamryn until he came, his come falling onto his stomach. Though he called him a good boy again, he gave him no time to recover, ordering Tam to turn over. 

“On your knees, sweetheart. Lift that ass for me, I don’t want you to get your come on the bed, am I clear? I want you to have it as a reminder of what you’re here for.”

As Tamryn got on his hands and knees, he thought Anatole was going to be the death of him. Anatole didn’t take long getting his dick and his harness, but anticipation made Tamryn hyper-aware of every sound he made. 

“You look good like this, sweetheart,” Antole said, positioning himself behind Tam. He felt his clicked cock against him, moaning as Anatole slowly pushed in.

Once it was fully inside, he said: “But you know how you’d look even better?” 

Tamryn didn’t get to verbalise a reply before he felt Anatole’s hand on his back, shoving his upper torso into the mattress as he began fucking him. “Like this.” 

That they weren’t attending the Masquerade didn’t mean they couldn’t bring it home. 

#the arcana lemon #lemon #my writing #tamnana #tamryn #aelius anatole #vesuviaafterdark #city of delights #midsummer masquerade

[vinylhazza]

Omg I don’t know if you’ve ever done this before but one of the twins make you wear a vibrator in public to punish you & they can control it with an app and it’s constant edging you begging to cum saying things like “baby please” “just wanna cum”

i’m gonna go out on a whim here and assume this is a plug type of situation. a surprise he brought home one day when he felt particularly devious? he likes to try new things of course so when he pulls the plug out from behind his back with a cheery smile you have no choice but to give in. he was waiting for the right time to use the toy on you and finally found the right time with the banquet coming up.

so now you’re just sitting at a table, a fancy dinner they had for the staff at Wakeheart before you, nothing too crazy, but fancy enough that you wouldn’t want to risk embarassing yourself. the twins thought it might be nice to show everyone their appriciation in a different way which warmed your heart, but you were not doing well.

you have a rosy blush spread across the apples of your cheeks, a clenched jaw, and a moan just waiting to break free with every swipe of his thumb on the dimmed phone screen. the buzzing grows stronger every so often before dying back down to a dull vibration - still keeping you on the brink of something truly spectacular, but just far enough to keep you present and looking at the crowd with a pitiful pout. you can’t decide whether you want him to stop or keep going, even when the tingling buzz powers up inside of you quickly, your hand balling the white tablecloth into a fist. you look pained, and anyone that glanced in your direction could see you weren’t well.

grayson sits next to you with a cocky smirk, hand holding his phone under the table to mess with the app as he pleases. he knows how much you want it, even if your nails are digging into his thigh under the white cloth, something that usually means “not now” or “please stop”. you don’t want to be embarassed in front of a room full of people, especially because you break down in whimpers and whines whenever you cum ‘quietly’. you’re not even sure you could be silent anymore. you used to not make much noise during sex, but since grayson came into the picture...it’s been increasingly difficult to control your volume.

“grayson...” you warn as the buzzing inside your cunt dies down again, torturing you once again. you just want it to be over with, you were started to feel the heat that would turn into a sweat soon enough.

“hm?” he hums, turning the dial all the way down. it pained you to feel the coil in your stomach tighten with the sound of his voice alone.

“quit fucking playing,” you grit through your teeth, eyes closed in concentration, willing yourself to think of all the things the two of you could be doing, maybe then you would cum, “...please.”

the one thing about grayson? you were getting nowhere without manners. please, thank you, yes sir, no sir, etc. sir was for special occasions such as this. moments where you wanted something he wouldn’t give you.

“sorry? can you speak up, i can’t hear you,” he mocks, refusing to look you in the eye, knowing he will crack.

with a jolt through your core the buzzing is back and stronger than ever, setting turned up all the way, his thumb

“g-gray please...please just keep it right there-oh my God-“ you whisper rushed and breathless, sliding your hand from his thigh to his wrist, hoping he’d show some mercy and give you what you’ve been craving since he sipped the plug into your clenching cunt earlier in the night, his hand sliding right up the bottom of your dress, pressing until your pussy swallowed up the toy eagerly, “just a bit more that’s it...”

you swear you could cry when he turns the dial down again, and this time you can’t keep a foot from stomping against the floor in distress, wanting nothing more than to shoot him a glare for punishing you. a sorrowful “baby please...” slips past your lips, something you let out on accident almost. the stimulation on your clit hurls your body into a state of desperation, looking for any way to get to the place you long for the most.

with your lips set in a straight line, eyebrows furrowed down into a pout, and fingers gripping his arms so tight you might even leave him with a bruise, you open your eyes to stare angrily down his phone. you know what will get him to give in, the one thing he hates more than anything: when you threaten to take advantage of ethans small crush on you.

“if you won’t satisfy me, i guess i’ll find someone else that will,” you smirk, steering your eyes away from the screen and over to ethan that converses with a close friend they’ve had for years, his eyes finding you ever now and again, “maybe e could give me what i want, huh gray?” you smile at ethan, a smile that says more than a friendly hello.

you don’t get the chance to wave him over, however. grayson is grabbing your chin with a growl under his breath, ignoring the eyes of several people that linger by your table. he’s possessive that’s for damn sure, and hates when you threaten to ask ethan for something grayson knows he can give you. he’s not blind to ethans charms and it pisses him off that you would threaten it when he is the one holding the power literally in his hands.

staring right in your eyes, eyes black with a menacing glint, he’s kicking it up a notch, finger swooping up high on the screen to show you what all the toy has to offer, your body going rigid with the force of the steady whirring in your core - your fingers clinging to the seat your chair. you feel hot in your dress, the tiny piece of black fabric hiding little from the eyes, but for some reason feels like too much in the moment, especially with graysons hand holding your face forcefully.

“you’re eyes stay on me. say my brothers name again and i’ll fuck you on this table in front of everyone. am i clear?” his deepset voice rattled your bones.

it’s the bass of it, the way it shoots straight through you and down to where the buzzing vibrates everything with excessive speed. you know better than to ignore him, nodding your head quickly. you know he won’t let up on the punishment that you’ve grown to love, giving you exactly what you want and then some, forcing you to take all of it while you maintain eye contact. you’ve always been a sucker for that.

“fuck-“ you swear, low enough that he almost doesn’t catch it.

leaving you panting in your seat, eyes trained on his while you finally reach that high you’d been chasing all night. you shut your eyes tight when that fire bursts open in your tummy, feeling it shake your body in your chair. the plug shakes itself against your clit- your mouth falling apart as the world splits in two.

you know you made some sound from the confused, and rather judgmental eyes that meet yours when your eyes open back up to the real world once again. your cheeks warm up instantly, even more so than they were post orgasm. you should have known better than to beg for something that you wouldn’t be able to control. it was never a good idea to challenge grayson.

you glance around you bashfully, flicking a strand of hair out of your face and sitting up straight, brushing your hand across your mouth which pushed graysons hand away in the process. he shoots you a look like he knows. he knows you want to thank him in the best way you know how, get down on your knees and have your own fun. and you would when you cross the threshold back at home...but for now you watch him lean in close, lips right by your ear, just close enough that whatever words he said would be for you and you alone.

“how about you go and tell my brother how hard you just came at our banquet? i’m sure he’d really like to know.”

and you would have just to spite him, but by the time you go to rise from your seat, your wobbly legs have you stumbling right back down, too weak from your climax to even walk. you settle for leaning your head on graysons shoulder, hiding your face away from the prying eyes that won’t stop staring.

you spend the rest of the night with his large body spread out across the bed, one arm clasped behind his head while you apologize for being a brat in the best way you know how - his cock down your throat and his hand in your hair.

#asks #gray!concepts #grayson!concepts

[liza011]

The Parcel

The parcel arrived exactly at one o’clock during the day.

Sender unknown, no return address.

It had baffled Mara quite a bit, since she wasn’t expecting anything. She hadn’t ordered online, and family and friends wouldn’t just send things on a whim, without announcing it first.

She had taken it inside and opened it, or at least she had attempted to open it, when a loud screech came from inside the box. There was something alive in it! She couldn’t identify the animal by the noise it had made.

For a split second she hesitated, before continuing to cut. She prayed that whatever was in it, wouldn’t immediately attack her.

She was relieved when she found that it was just a lizard in a tank. This was most likely sent to her by mistake. Maybe it had been meant for a neighbor, and the sender had gotten the apartment number wrong?

She placed the fully equipped tank onto her dining table and plugged in the heat lamp that was attached to it. She took another closer look at the lizard. It looked like a bearded dragon, but as far as she knew, they didn’t make noise. Reptiles in general rarely did, and that screech she’d heard was not something it should have been capable of doing.

With a sigh she grabbed her keys and made her rounds, asking her neighbors if they had been expecting to get a pet lizard, but none of them were.

Back inside her apartment, she contemplated what to do. She wasn’t someone who wanted to take care of a pet, she could barely take care of herself. Just one look at the dirty dishes in the sink told her that. She would probably have to put out a notice and give the lizard to someone who really wanted one. For now however she was stuck with it, and decided to go to the nearest pet store to at least buy some food for it.

On her way out, she took a picture of the lizard and it let out another screech, almost as if to say, “Don’t leave me here alone.” The fact that she had somehow felt the sadness in the sound, made her feel strange.

The guy at the pet store told her that whatever kind of reptile had been sent to her, it wasn’t a bearded dragon. In fact, it wasn’t any kind of lizard he’d ever seen before. It confused her, and made her wary. What if it was venomous?

She took the dried insects home, and fed them to the lizard, wearing protective gloves usually used when working in the garden. To her surprise, the lizard was surprisingly docile, just gently taking the insects from her and swallowing them whole. It kept nudging her hand for more, and when it had enough, it curled up on a stone under the heat lamp.

In the moment she decided to try to take care of it. At least for a while, just to see if she could. If she deemed it too much work after all, she could still give it away to someone who was better suited for the job.

And so, she went about her usual business as days and then a week passed.

Halfway into week two however, things had begun to change. She felt like the lizard had begun to speak to her. The sounds she was hearing were like whispers, but she couldn’t make out any words. She was also sure that she was the only one who could hear them.

One evening, she had caught herself asking it, “What are you telling me? I can hear, but I can’t make out words.”

By the end of the second week, she thought, maybe, just maybe, she was going crazy. She had just come back from work and was inspecting the blank envelope that had been left in her mailbox, as she sat down on the sofa, opening it.

There was a single piece of paper inside. One sentence, and a strange symbol drawn on it.

Show this to the lizard, it read.

This was probably a prank. She wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t ignore the message though.

Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do, she pressed the paper against the glass and said, “Look what I got here. Somebody is trying to prank me, I think.”

The lizard opened one eye taking a lazy look at the symbol.

The paper caught flame, and she shouted in surprise. “What the hell?” The glass was quite warm, but it shouldn’t make paper ignite.

Before she could form another thought, the tank suddenly burst, spraying shards of glass everywhere. She reflexively covered her eyes and scrambled back. “Fuck!”

“About time.” A woman had replaced the lizard and was sitting on her dining table, right where the tank had been just seconds ago. She was dressed in black, skin tight, jeans and a tank top. She seemed about her age. “Sorry about the mess.” The woman pulled a few of the shards that had embedded themselves in her skin and her wounds immediately healed.

Mara stared at her. She’d been lucky to avoid the shrapnel. “That’s it, I’m nuts.” The adrenaline in her blood made her want to run, but she stayed where she was.

The stranger held her hand out to her, with a smile. “Hi, I’m Roslyn. How do you do?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Roslyn was still there. She had lowered her hand again however. “I’m Mara. I’m not doing well. I think I’m hallucinating. I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Don’t you want to clean this up first?” Roslyn gestured at the mess around her. “I’ll help.”

She was already grabbing her keys. “No. You’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to make sure my neighbor can see you!”

Roslyn shrugged. “Fine, if it makes you feel better.”

Mara’s neighbor opened. He was an older man. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was wondering if we could borrow a broom. We made a bit of a mess in my apartment.”

“Of course. Please bring it back when you’re done though.”

He came back with one and she stepped aside to let Roslyn take it. He handed it over to her without any problems.

They returned and Mara slumped down on the sofa. “Holy shit! Would you like to explain how the hell this is even possible?”

Roslyn busied herself with sweeping the glass on the floor into a pile. “I could try, but I doubt you’d understand. It involves a lot of particle physics and quantum mechanics.”

“Yeah, no thank you. I’ll just sit here for a bit longer and work through the shock of this being real.”

Roslyn laughed. “Just wait until you hear about how many times I’ve changed owners before that letter arrived.”

“How long were you stuck like this?”

“I wasn’t exactly stuck. I could have changed whenever I wanted, the letter was just the notice from my boss that I should. And on that note,” she walked over to Mara, broom in hand, “I’m done here. I have to report this at the office. You’ll receive a payment for the pet food you bought over the two weeks and for any damages the exploded tank might have caused.”

She didn’t want to admit, even though she was shocked, she wanted to see Roslyn again. “How about you visit me again next week?”

She seemed surprised at the request, but then nodded. “Most people want me back out of their lives as quickly as possible and just forget about the whole thing. But fine, I’ll be there next Sunday, eight in the evening. Does that work for you?”

“It does.” She got up and took the broom from her. “See you around.”

“See ya!” Roslyn headed for the door, but stopped short of pushing the handle down to open it. “I’ve got to ask, are you going to tell anyone about this?”

“Probably, but I’ll leave out the part where my lizard turned into a woman,” she laughed.

“Good, good!” She opened the door, and right before it fell shut behind her, she added, “If anyone asks what happened to the lizard, tell them it’s alright and found a new home.”

And with that, she left Mara standing there, feeling more weird than usual.

#shortstory #short story #short #original