#by the end he couldn't hop up into his drawer and he refused help so at least he gets to have his main safe spot back

[theveryworstthing]

this one goes out to my little homie Coup who couldn’t make it to 2023. the fireworks weren’t as bad this year for some reason, but i talked shit about the people lighting explosives in the middle of a tree-filled residential area full of easily freaked out wildlife twice as hard for you.

happy new years to all! y’all better survive!

[the-diabolist]

37 Hours

-part 3-

c.w: masturbation (lots!) and impure thoughts (also lots!) :> our characters are desperately thirsty...

You don't speak to him again for the remainder of the party. He hangs out by the grill with his brother, smoking and drinking, while you sit at your easel and draw increasingly goofy portraits.

You do glance at him occasionally, though - he's a snack, it's hard not to. Once, you make eye contact over the rim of his glass, and he winks. The next time you feel his eyes on you, you lean down, "accidentally" granting him a glance down your shirt. You refuse to be the only one going home with blue balls.

Eventually, though, you do go home in just such a condition. You try to ignore it for a while - you take a shower, hoping it'll help you relax, but the hot water running between your legs only draws attention to your arousal. You're almost throbbing by the time you exit, and you seriously doubt you'll be able to make it through the night without succumbing to the relief of your own touch.

It feels like a concession, pulling the drawing out of your bag just to lay your eyes on that jaw, those eyes, that mouth. You wanted to maintain your dignity in the face of this cat-and-mouse game you're playing, and somehow it feels like he's going to know you cracked - know that he got you so turned on that you couldn't ignore it, that you thought of him while taking care of yourself, that you even looked at that damn picture to help facilitate the process.

Ugh, whatever. You might as well give in; you're just cutting off your nose to spite your face at this point.

You settle into bed with restless, aching thighs, a sensitive warmth between them, and a tight coil in your belly. Your hand slides down your body immediately, slipping under your waistband and between your folds - and a quiet gasp falls from your mouth.

You're soaking. You hadn't realized just how slick you were; your fingers slide back and forth, completely frictionless, rubbing across your bundle of nerves with a little jolt of pleasure each time.

Your middle finger sinks inside you so easily, and it's quickly followed by a second and then third digit. It's still not enough. You remember his line about you needing a hand; you can't help but imagine how well his long, thick fingers would stretch you out. You bet he's mean in bed, and rough, and downright obscene... you bet he's kinky. You bet those long, thick fingers would feel great wrapped around your throat.

Needing something more, you end up retrieving your vibrator from the bedside drawer. It slides in almost as easily as your fingers, despite its size. You turn it on and crank it all the way up almost immediately, arching off the bed at how good it feels. You think about riding his face, his thigh, his cock; about getting on your elbows and knees on the floor for him, or even just your knees; you bet he's strong enough to hold you up against the wall and pound you mercilessly. You want him to tie you up and have his way with you.

That thought gets you there; you come with a litany of cries, completely overpowered by the mixture of vibration and dirty thoughts.

You check your phone again. You'd checked a couple of times, during, hoping he might've sent a steamy text or two to spur you along. He hadn't, and it doesn't shock you; he's a player, Gwen had said, and he's not going to contact you the very first night. That would seem too desperate.

As you lay in the dark, panting your way back down from your high, you hope he is desperate. You hope you affected him just as much as he's affecting you (or, preferably, more so) - you hope he's sitting at home stroking himself to the thought of you in any number of compromising positions. You want him to want you with all that wild intensity you're able to glimpse through his eyes. You want him salivating, feral, and you'll do your best to get him there even if he devours you as a result.

---

He hops in the shower shortly after arriving home, and he doesn't make it much further than that. The thought of you in there with him, wet and soapy and pressed against him, is enough to finish what you'd started earlier and get him fully hard. He wraps a hand around himself, starts pumping slowly under the hot water.

He thinks about taking a picture to send you - does take it, but decides against sending it. Maybe later. For now, he wants to make you wait. He hopes you're checking your phone compulsively, waiting for him to contact you. He knows he got you hot earlier, and he wonders if you're touching yourself yet. It's so easy to picture: he imagines you dripping wet and desperate, frustrated by how small your fingers are compared to his. He twitches; his hand starts moving faster.

He wonders if you have toys... you seem like the type to have a wide selection. He bets you have other things too - cuffs, collars, maybe even gags. He'd bet money you're kinky, but he wants to find out how kinky - exactly how many of his darker urges you'll be able to fulfill during the interim between desert vacations.

Will you let him choke you? Chase you? Will you let him slice you up and play in your blood? Will you cry for him while he does it?

He pictures you covered in blooming bruises and bite marks, your neck and thighs in particular, and he comes with a low growl, painting the shower wall and dripping through his fingers.

... Is tomorrow too soon to text you?

[maryeve-the-bitch]

Title: Lonely birthday word count: 994 ship: Fruk

As soon as France came back from work that evening, he immediately threw his bag, shoes and jacket away, not caring where they landed. He undid his tie on the way to the kitchen; it was way too hot for clothes. Alas, his small fan in his Paris apartment wasn't enough to cool him down in this temperature. Francis opened the fridge door to see what he could have for dinner, but mostly stood in front of it appreciating the cool air on his face, too tired to even think of something to cook.

He noticed an opened bottle of wine and grabbed it, closing the fridge door on the way. Not even grabbing a glass, he went straight to his couch, holding the cold bottle on his cheek. When he sat, he grunted and placed the bottle on the table in front of him. He unbuttoned his long sleeve shirt, tossed it on the other end of the couch and drank the wine directly from the bottle. He usually cared more about drinking manners, but he was exhausted, lonely, a bit depressed and all by himself.

Usually, it would be a happy day for him as tomorrow he had a day off to celebrate his birthday. Unfortunately, since the pandemic, he wasn't allowed to see anyone for his birthday. He did get virtual messages from people or letters, but it wasn't the same. He missed the physical touch of people. He missed going to festivities. He missed chatting so long with friends until the early hours of morning. He kept drinking a few more gulps until he realised that getting drunk would only make things worse. He let out a small whine and put the cork back in the bottle. He should take a cold shower; that should help me. But France couldn't get up. His muscles refused to move. He usually had more energy, but this time, he felt drained. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about his existence for a while.

After convincing himself for 5 minutes, France finally got up and went to his bathroom to take a cold shower. He didn't bother to throw his dirty clothes in the hamper and hopped in the shower.

The next morning, the apartment's front door gently opened after someone unlocked it. England closed the door softly, knowing that France was still asleep at this hour. After quietly untying his shoes, he dropped off two bags on the kitchen counter and walked toward the bedroom to check on Francis. He was sleeping soundly, but very naked. Arthur grabbed a light blanket to cover at least half of his body and stopped a moment to watch him sleep. He'd never admit it but he had missed Francis dearly.

Since Arthur wanted to let him sleep, he went back to the kitchen and prepared water to be boiled in a kettle. He searched his bag and retrieved his morning tea. He somehow felt nervous since he had never been one to give to other people and Francis especially was usually the one to take care of England. But since it was Francis' birthday, he wanted to spoil him.

When France woke up, he turned around to hug his pillow, not wanting to wake up yet. He stayed in this position, half asleep, until he heard a tinkle in the kitchen. He opened his eyes and felt his heart racing. Who in the world would rob from his apartment this early in the morning? On HIS BIRTHDAY, of all day! He looked for something to attack the robber in his drawer, something that could hurt. He grabbed the closest thing, which was a butt plug, and quietly walked down the hall towards the kitchen.

As soon as Francis saw the man from behind, he threw the object at him, screaming. "Dégages!" England didn't have the time to turn around and react. He screamed in pain when the butt plug hit his back and turned around to face France. "You bloody twat! What are you attacking me for?" England yelled back at him.

France froze for a second. Was he dreaming? He couldn't imagine how England, who left the EU and had always been an introvert, came to his home on a Friday morning and on the day of his birthday. He knew he gave him his apartment's key a while ago, but France was still surprised he used it.

Arthur picked up the butt plug from the floor and placed it on the counter. "Put this back in your bedroom. That's not sanita-" Arthur got interrupted by the French nation hugging him. "Angleterre! It's you! You're here" Francis was so happy to see him that he shed some tears and he hugged tighter.

"Yes. Hello Francis." Arthur hugged him back and rubbed his back.

"I missed you so much." France wanted to kiss him, still couldn't believe he was here with him.

His comment made England blush, but he pulled away from the hug and noticed tears on Francis' face. "Are you crying?" "Oui" Francis couldn't help but cry more when England looked at him. The English nation held him again and caressed his hair. "What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing. I can't believe you are here. I'm so happy to see you and I thought I was going to spend my birthday by myself again this year." France's accent was stronger when he felt such strong emotions.

England saddened after hearing the last sentence. "I'm here, love. I didn't want you to spend your birthday alone so I came here to surprise you and spend the day with you. Would you like that?" Arthur whispered.

He felt France nod on his shoulder. "I would like that very much." Arthur pulled away and smiled at Francis. "Alright. We'll dry those tears and you can get dressed. I'm inviting you to a restaurant for breakfast." Francis smiled back and wiped a tear from his face.

[hoodoo12]

Stick It In The Man

NSFW, Dewey Finn/f!reader. Talk of webcams and if you couldn't tell by the title, pegging.

@turtlepated @werwulfy @heresathreebee @fireflower1015 @mel-time @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @this-is-my-wonderland-i-guess @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours (I'm tagging you even though you voted for Beetlejuice. Sorry! 😉)

Enjoy!

`

During a laughing discussion about starting an Onlyfans page--”It’d just be a side hustle! A little extra play money!” and “People’d only want to see you, baby, not my hairy ass,” and “I bet you’d be surprised, Finn,”--the semi-dirty talk made Dewey semi-hard. He shifted so his boner wasn’t trapped uncomfortably along the seam of his sweatpants.

With eyes made sharp, knowing why he’d moved like that, you brazenly cupped his crotch. “Going commando tonight?” you chuckled. “U-uh-huh,” he stuttered. “Though we were just gonna watch some Netflix . . .” You waited a beat as his voice petered out, then prompted, “But?” Dewey licked his lips as you gave him a light squeeze through the thin material of his pants. “But . . . maybe we should, I don’t know practiceforthecamera?” The end of his sentence ran together and you laughed out loud. “Let’s go, lover boy.”

⁂

Dewey was the catalyst for this playtime, so you weren’t exactly sure what he had in mind. It was a surprise, a pleasant one, that he opened the drawer of toys and rummaged until he found his prize: your harness and the dildo he liked best. With his eyebrows arched and a cute head tilt, he silently asked for your approval as he held them up.

Tapping your finger against your mouth, you pretended to consider it. Not too long, however! You didn’t want his enthusiasm to wane. Nodding and holding your hand out, you said, “Good choice. I’m going to want to see you suck it though . . . ” Eagerly, he grinned. Passing the harness to you, the act of stripping and getting into it was made easier by the two of you supporting each other. Dewey hopped on one foot as his sweatpants got twisted around his other ankle, so he yanked them off inside out and left them in a heap on the floor. You stepped into the harness and after slipping the dildo in place, you tightened it to stay securely on your waist and hips. Giving your cock a stroke, you smiled at Dewey. He missed it; his eyes were glued to your hand going over the silicone like it was his own. Speaking of which, he sported a full erection now. Taking a stance in front of him, you asked. “Well?”

No further encouragement was needed. Dewey dropped to his knees, tipped his head back slightly, and opened his mouth. This was all for show; you refused to use the dildo on him without proper preparation, but you did get a thrill watching your faux cock slip into his mouth. When his lips closed around it you couldn’t help but groan. Head bobbing shallowly to work as much of the dildo in as possible, not even trying to swallow the spit that drooled out of his mouth, Dewey glanced upward after an outward pull, when just the tip was captured by his mouth. Brown eyes made darker with arousal met yours, and you carded your fingers through the mess of his hair. He managed to smile with his mouth full again, and made the dildo dripping wet. You could feel his spit run into the harness to your pussy. You may have to invest in a strapless dildo that could satisfy both of you, but that was a discussion for another day.

Gasping because he’d pushed himself too far, Dewey pulled off your cock. His own was still erect, and thin pre-come had beaded at the tip. He hadn’t touched himself as he used his mouth and you knew from experience he wouldn’t until you gave him permission.

“That’s pretty good.” It was not easy acting reserved and dismissive. You liked this as much as he did. “Let’s get you ready.”

You hated when the lube was cold, so you always took the time to warm it in your hand before squeezing copious amounts onto him. Carefully you prepped him, loving the soft sounds he made as you continued, surprising him by fondling his balls with slick fingers occasionally. On his stomach, his cock wasn’t easily accessible, so you didn’t try to dig a hand under him to coat it too. Plenty of time for that later. His asshole and the skin around it was shiny once you were satisfied he was ready. You hummed a wordless approval and Dewey lifted his hips minutely, both in his eagerness and as an invitation. What he got instead was a smack on the ass. He moaned and jumped at the same time. “Something different,” you announced. Lifting his head, his tousled hair falling into his eyes made him look more confused. “Move,” you ordered, pushing at him lightly so he’d roll. He followed direction, but the look of befuddlement didn’t leave his face. Settling back into the space he’d vacated, you offered him a hand. “I want you on top, Dewey.” For a second Dewey sat completely still, working through your request. “On top?” he clarified. You nodded, and used residual lube on your hand to coat your cock. “Uh-huh. Come on.” His hesitance was written all over his face. “I . . . uh, I don’t know--I’m pretty heavy--” “Dewey Alexander Finn, get up here and ride me.” You were the bare minimum of the word Dom. The softest that could be. But with a direct order and a direct point to the dildo jutting from your groin, Dewey--the least bratty, least demanding sub ever; you two really were a good match--could do nothing but obey. Carefully he straddled you. It was interesting, if nothing else, to see him work his way into a position that came easily to you, having been atop him countless times. And while you wanted to try this for your own visual enjoyment, what he didn’t seem to understand was that you were putting him in charge. The pace. The depth. It was all his choice. A flush had risen on Dewey’s chest. You scratched through the hair there, to his shoulder, giving him a squeeze of encouragement. “On my knees or squatting . . . ?” he fretted. “Whatever is best for you, Dewey.” Sliding a hand between you to grasp your silicone cock, he held it steady as he sank down onto it. His groan lasted as long as he moved and when he stopped, his ass was pressed against your thighs. His balls rested on the front of the harness, and he took a moment to just breathe. Rubbing the tops of his thighs, you gave him his time.

“You look good up, baby,” you said, knowing he liked praise. “I want you to fuck yourself how you want.”

With those words of encouragement, he did just that.

Instead of you doing all the work and modifying your movements based on his vocal and bodily clues and reactions, Dewey did it all himself. He alternated shallow movements with deeper ones, changing his pace to whatever seemed best to him at the time. You couldn’t help but moan when he did, vicarious arousal coursing through you witnessing his pleasure. Within a short time, much less than when you were in charge, he was a sweaty mess, He leaned forward to support himself with his hands on either side of your head. He also maneuvered first one leg, then the other, to get to his knees, which made him groan in an entirely new tone. Closer now, you were able to reach between you and take his weeping cock in hand. A quick tug, and you immediately brought your hand back up to liberally lick it before wrapping your hand around him again. That made Dewey cry out. He didn’t thrust himself with abandon any longer. Now he simply rolled his hips, keeping your cock deep inside him. You could tell when it stimulated his prostrate because he jerked and grunted. You couldn’t help trying to lift your hips to hit that spot more frequently. You also stroked his cock with quick movements, and his arms began to visibly shake. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he panted, somehow finding his voice between animalistic moans. “I’m gonna come--I’m gonna come--” If that was meant to be a warning or a plea that he wanted this moment to last longer, it made no difference. You did not let up on jerking him off, and with a push off the mattress Dewey sat upright again, bottoming out on your cock. You managed one final stroke and he came on your stomach, unable to make any noise but a throaty keening. You held his shaft firmly as it pumped. The rhythm matched the squeeze of his ass around the dildo, although that was less noticable. You definitely needed to look into those strapless dildos you could slip into your pussy.

With his jizz painted over your belly, Dewey finally slumped. You grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. Luckily he wasn’t a guy who cared much about getting smeared with ejaculate. That, or he was too far gone in his own pleasure to notice. Either way, you let him rest on your chest and kissed the side of his head, getting a mouthful of sweat as you did. “That was really hot,” you said. He made some inarticulate noise in response. You took it as agreement. Finally he gathered enough strength to move off you. He groaned at the loss of the silicone cock inside him, and kept one leg over you possessively. The two of you lay quietly for a bit, although you were going to have to get cleaned up soon. Just as you were about to suggest a shower together, Dewey asked, “What made you think about me being on top?” You shrugged the shoulder opposite of him. “I just hadn’t seen it, well, at all. All the pegging seems to be mostly doggy style or missionary.” He nodded slowly, lost in whatever thoughts he might have. You pinched him. “If we’re making an Onlyfans page, we can’t just rely on your cuteness and sweet ass! We have to have new and exciting content for people! What about me doing you in the shower?” “My cuteness?” he replied, shocked. “We never talked about my face being on camera! I can’t do that--I’d lose all my students!” You laughed, and it took him a moment to recognize you were kidding.

fin??

[kiki-wiccan]

Kiki wanting to stop by after work wasn't surprising to the witch, setting out tea and cookies like she usually did when she had company over. Binx rubbed against her leg, a chirpy meow emitting from him before he hopped up onto the couch, flopping onto his side. "Hmm, you know someone is coming and you want extra attention..." She mused to her cat, who only rolled onto his back in response. The familiar three knocks signaled Kiki's arrival, with the door opened and the wiccan now inside, Elidi couldn't help but notice her growing tension. The suspicion only confirmed when Kiki refuses any tea or cookies, a feat she had never done before. "Well...alright." Pouring herself a glass, Elidi settled comfortably in her chair while Kiki spoke. With the truth settled out into the air, her gaze remained stoic as she observed Kiki. While perturbed, Elidi found it somewhat difficult to stay irritated with her, the longer Kiki seemed to speak about the situation. Clearly she was remorseful, and definitely struggling to get the words out even. As the thought crosses her mind, the younger woman dashes up and out of her seat into the bathroom. Elidi remains seated, taking a slow sip of her tea just as Kiki retches in the background. "Delightful..." Setting the cup down on the saucer, she approached the bathroom, her gaze immediately finding Kiki crumpled on the floor, draped over the toilet. "Come now..." Elidi began softly, opening one of the drawers along the bathroom counter to fetch a wash cloth, wetting it with water, before she sat in front of the wiccan. Gently she straightened Kiki up, away from the mess unintentionally made, before wiping gently at the corners of her mouth. "You've worked yourself up quite a bit." "I'm not angry, perhaps a little... annoyed but, you very clearly regret what you've done." She gestured to the contents in toilet bowl, before reaching over herself to flush it away. "There is a reason, I asked you what your intentions were with magic, because at the end of the day, it is my magic that furthers you along. I cannot condone any negative outcomes you may choose to do with it, intentional or not. With that being said, it is fortunate Tamryn caught you, and the charms were fetched back. Not that much harm could be done with a few charms.... but still, you must be cautious." She patted Kiki's shoulder gently before standing herself, washing her hands in the sink. As she dried them she moved to step across the threshold, leaning against the doorway. "When you're ready, you can rinse your mouth out, brush your teeth with one of the spare brushes in the drawer, and then you can tell me why you're selling charms. Everything is fine."

She was surprised when the witch sat her up and helped clean up her mouth. She didn’t know what she had expected but her body had obviously prepared itself for the worse. So when it didn’t come she was genuinely taken aback. She sat there for a bit just watching Elidi, trying to see if maybe she was angry from her eyes but she didn’t see anything. “O...okay...” she mumbled softly and proceeded to push herself up from the bathroom floor. Going over to the think she turned the cold water on and filled her hands bringing water to her mouth and rinsing the after taste of puke. Then opening up the drawer she grabbed an extra brush and brushed out her mouth. Glad that the taste of minty toothpaste filled her mouth, once finished she set the toothpaste down on the side of the sink and turned to Elidi. It was obvious she was still extremely nervous about the entire situation. “I...a person close to me just needs some extra money to help get out of a sucky situation. So I am trying to help them...so they can uh get out of it...” she wasn’t lying but it was obvious she was brushing paste details and staying vague about her explanation. “It’s okay though I’ll just take up more hours if I’m able I already have been working doubles or maybe I can get a second job!”