I’m Sorry But There Is No Reason For The Grinches Mail Box To Be This Unsanitary.

NO WAIT MERLIN IS HIS YOUNGER BROTHER WHO GOT THE JASKIER TWINK GENE AND THE FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT GERALT GENE

Gwaine is Geralt of Rivia’s and Jaskier’s love child. The skills of Geralt and the charisma and dumbassery of Jaskier

for study... of course

this is an experiment:

trying to prove something to my friends

REBLOG IF YOU THINK PANSEXUALITY AND BISEXUALITY ARE TWO DIFFERENT, VALID SEXUALITIES

currently thinking about the moment the boys all collectively realise that you are the captain’s favourite

the boonie hat. it sounds silly but john is very protective about that hat in the sense that he doesn’t allow a single soul to touch it. one time ghost misplaced it and got an earful for weeks about how he had to get a new one and it didn’t feel the same as his old one

during the third week of this earache, ghost made the silly mistake of saying, ‘it’s jus’ a bloody hat, captain.’ price spent the rest of the week being a petty bastard

people used up all of simon’s earl grey? it’s just tea, lieutenant. lost one of his favourite knives on a mission? just a weapon, simon. simon learned never to touch that bloody hat ever again

or that time when gaz dared soap so swipe the hat from his head and bolt down the hallway whilst price was in the middle of an important conversation with laswell. once john caught up with him he was rewarded with 6 weeks of cleaning duty and getting his ass absolutely handed to him in front of the new recruits

gaz filmed the whole thing and showed it to everyone, earning 6 weeks of scrubbing floors on his knees right next to johnny

but when you have a bit too much to drink at whatever shithole bare they were drinking in and drag your captain on to the dance floor? he smiles and they think you’re about to be sent to an early grave

the sounds of roxette coming from the old jukebox send your body into a routine of seductive swaying. all eyes are on you especially when you reach up to grab his boonie hat from his head before placing it on your own

tipsy giggles leave your throat as you dance, taking the tumbler of scotch from his hand and taking a sip. tilting your head and biting your lip as you look at him

you’re laughing death in the face, the boys think. the captain is about to wipe that smirk off of your face and make you ever regret touching his beloved hat. you’re about to learn the painful lesson they all endured

or so they thought. john doesn’t do anything except stand there, arms folded over his chest in the middle of the room as he watches you with pure amusement, “better give that back, trouble…”

“or what, cap’n?” you giggle out, taking another sip of his drink. he takes a few steps forward before pulling you against his chest, his cheeks pulling up into a smile

“or i’ll take it from ya.” he chuckles, taking a hand up to pull the hat down over your eyes as he locks his arms around your waist, swaying you to the music

just a few feet away, the boys still sit at their booth. slouched in the booth with cross pours written across their faces,

“well, I guess it’s obvious who the favourite is.” johnny grumbles out as the other nod along in agreement

The Box Pt. 2 (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader Pt. 1 Here cw: smut, squirting, dom/sub vibes, sex toys, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, choking word count: 2k Reader faces her punishment for lying. First time writing smut. Be easy on me.

You saw the change in his eyes and your heart dropped. You knew not to lie, but you did it anyway for your own comfort and appeasement.

You kept talking, continuing as if all was well, him just replying with “mhm”. You knew it wasn’t. You knew that he knew it wasn’t.

He tricked you. Well, the branch tricked you. He figured it out. You lied. Four times, for that matter.

He looked you in your eyes. Not a smile in sight, his thumb no longer massaging your neck and his grip subtly tightening.

“Go get the box,” he commanded.

Fuck. Not the box.

“I can explain,” you pleaded.

“Try me,” he said. You didn’t know whether that meant you could go on with your explanation that you didn’t actually have or he would punish you more for not going to get the box the first time he told you to.

You use it as an opportunity to conjure up a response. Hopefully, one that’ll make him change his mind. Because, quite frankly, you were not at all prepared for anything he may do with any of the items from the box.

Lying was a major offense. But it was just for shits and giggles. Surely, he’d understand.

“I just wanted to spend more time with you. I like when you touch me,” you explained, your eyes wide and doe, trying to earn his sympathy.

“You like spending time with me?” he asked, more like a statement rather than a question. “And you like when I touch you?” he asked, using the same tone, keeping the same grip around your neck. He sounded like he was contemplating changing his mind.

You nodded your head slowly in response.

It really was an innocent act. You don’t normally get to spend this much time with him. He could get called into work at any point in time.

Hell. He could get called into right now. Which would work great to your benefit because that meant that you didn’t have to face the wrath of the box.

Actually. yeah.

Let’s hope he gets called into work.

Actually, no. You don’t mean it. You’d rather face the box and have him hold you down and torture your pussy for hours before leaving for another few months.

He looked at you, analyzing the plea in your eyes and the small pout on your face that you didn’t even notice was there. According to him, you subconsciously do it when you are trying to get out of something. It used to work, but it hasn't recently. Let's hope that it will today.

He scanned over your body, his free hand finding its way to your waist. His hand trailed lower and lower until it found its way to the band of your panties.

Your body shivered as he slid his calloused and rough hand past, making contact with your folds, all as he kept eye contact with you. Any time you tried to look away, embarrassed by what he’d find on his inspection, he quickly turned your head back to face him.

His hand trailed lower until he found what he’d been looking for, his middle two digits finding the pool of slick that was building up in your panties.

You didn’t think it would be that much, but when he brought his fingers up to your mouth and forced you to open, you realized you were wrong.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and used the hand that was once a collar to cup your face, his thumb on one cheek and his remaining fingers on the other. With the warmth of his hand and the feeling of his glare, you know the slick was pooling more with each millisecond that passed. He sat you up, making you get on your knees in between his legs.

He tilted your head to the side, slowly turning it to face the other way as he kissed down your neck. You couldn’t help but to let out the smallest moan. His lips soft against your skin and the warmth of his tongue just made you wish he would put it in other places.

But then suddenly, he stopped, and you felt his breath against your ear.

“Go. Get. The box,” he commanded, though his voice was much more brute.

And to no surprise, he hadn’t turned your head for easy access to your neck. It was to face the location of the box that sat in the back of the closet that you had been facing as you were enjoying his mouth on your neck.

Fuck, you thought.

He had practically thrown you off of him, giving you no choice but to obey his demands.

You walked as slowly as you could, trying to distract yourself from what’s to come. Or in better words, from who’s to come.

“Every second you waste is another minute added to your time,” he said from behind you.

Damnit. He had a time prepared. Even worse.

He knew all of your antics. It didn't matter what you did or what you said. He would always catch on.

You scrambled through the closet to uncover the infamous box. It wasn’t anything special. It was just a brown box that held every sex toy that Simon loved to torture you with.

And you couldn’t bank on any of them dying, while he tortured you because he always kept them charged.

The minimum time with a device: two hours.

He’s done it before. Using a device on you until it died. You were just about to come, and then the vibrations got lighter and lighter until they were no more. You whined, but best believe Simon had something else for you.

You shamefully walked the box to him and put it on the bed. Maybe he was feeling nice and would let you choose.

Wrong.

He pulled you onto the bed and immediately instructed you to remove all of your clothing.

It didn’t take long as you only had on a large t-shirt and your panties.

He watched as you removed your panties, the strands of slick elongating as you pulled them down.

“Give them to me,” he commanded, holding his hand out.

You did as you were told and now you were over him, fully naked, with your wetness practically dripping down your thigh. He admired you in all your glory, and he couldn’t wait to watch you squirm and plead as he tortured you.

You went to him, straddled over his thigh and your head on his shoulder, a tear about to slide down your face.

The last time you lied, your pussy was sore for two days.

He slowly trailed his hand up and down your spine. He could feel your puddle of slick through his pants. His other hand opened the box, rummaging through its contents.

The more he dug, the closer you came to sobbing.

And you did once he pulled out the first device.

The wand.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. But it wasn’t enough. He continued to rummage through as your tears fell onto his shoulder. He couldn’t care less. You were only apologizing because you got caught. And now you had to pay.

Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.

You should’ve learned your lesson the first time.

He pulled out the bar that kept your legs spread apart, something he got after you kept closing your legs before. Then, he pulled out the ropes. What he would do with them, you wouldn’t know. And lastly, he pulled out the homemade makeshift thigh holster, used to keep whatever device perfectly planted on your clit no matter how much you moved.

In combination with the bar, you weren’t going anywhere, and neither was the wand.

He gathered everything and put them in the pile beside himself. He tended to you for the last time before his wrath began.

“Don’t cry,” he said, wiping away your tears. His voice was tender. Comforting. it was possible he would be more gentle with you than you thought.

“If you hadn’t lied, you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” he antagonized, placing a kiss on your cheek that perfectly coated his lips with your salty tears.

He pried you off of his leg and arm and laid you in front of him. There was nothing you could do now other than to comply. That way, he’ll see you’re being a good girl and maybe end his torture early.

You sniffled as he locked your legs in place with the bar, your ankles perfectly placed in the straps.

“Give me your arms,” he calmly demanded. and you obeyed.

He tied the rope to the bar and then to your arms. The more you struggled, the more your pussy was exposed. And last but not least, the thigh holster, accompanied by its friend. The wand that you dreaded. You wouldn’t even use it while he was away. It was too powerful. You couldn’t last two minutes with coming and the overstimulation was too much to bear.

He angled the wand perfectly on your clit, making you squirm around. You tried to get away or at least move it so it wouldn’t be as torturous, but you couldn’t, making you softly whine.

All this and he still has your panties in his hand. You thought he would have thrown them on the ground with your t-shirt by now.

He gently trailed his thumb up and down your folds for a little before he got up from the bed, licking your slick from his thumb.

He turned your body and pulled it to face the edge of the bed. You worried if you moved too much, you might fall off, but Simon wouldn’t let that happen. He’d ram his dick into you to send you jolting back before he let you hit the ground.

He admired the view of your pussy before he came beside you, sitting on the bed and gently stroking your cheek.

“Simon, I said I’m sorry,” you pleaded. But he still didn’t care. You were already tied up. There was no way out.

“What are your colors?” he proceeded to ask, disregarding everything you had just said.

“Red. Yellow. Green,” you said, hoping the eye contact would make him loosen up a bit. Or maybe the tear that slid down the side of your face would do it.

It didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead and quickly stuffing your panties in your mouth, forbidding you from speaking. More tears rolled down the sides of your face. The flashbacks were coming in all too well.

“I love you,” he told you, before he set the wand to the highest setting it could go, already having you arch your back, squirming around to try to run away from it.

Your efforts were of no use. There was no running from this. He watched as your pussy cried with you, streams flooding onto the bedsheets.

He ran his fingers through your folds, sometimes sending them into your hole, preparing it for what was to come next. It just added to the stimulation, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It had only been two and a half minutes and you had already come.

Simon was silent as he watched you struggle. He loved seeing you try to run away. Your hands reaching for the wand to pull it away, but you simply couldn’t reach. He just played with your pussy as the wand worked its magic on your clit.

To stretch you out more, he took out the dildos, smallest to largest, the smallest still being enough for you to whine and arch your back in pleasure.

Every time you came, he changed the size of the dildo that was inserted into you. It had been ten minutes, and you were only on dildo two out of seven. After seven, you had to face the final boss.

Simon.

Little did you know, he would cycle through the dildos until your squirt made a puddle on the floor, edging and overstimulating you at the same time.

Then you’d be ready to take his dick.

Pt. 3

first post is a pile of men

When Gnomeo says “I think this ending is much better” yeah it’s cute and shit to us the audience but Juliet has not got a clue what he’s on about!

not until you tell me to, sir

priceghost blurb do we want a series based off of simon being a nasty mutt for price? an interesting dynamic with more secret interesting dynamics CW: blood/violence, but nothing explicit (i think)

510 words

simon riley was a dog. not a dog in the way that a shih tzu was a dog, pliant and soft and meant for nothing but lounging, nor in the way a blue heeler was a dog, bred for farms and herding the disobedient and obeying rules. no, he was a dog in the way that a wolf crushed bones between its teeth, blood dripping down its jaw and fragments of bones in its fur. he was a dog in the way that the most vicious outcasts were called mutts and thrown aside by the pliant, the obedient, the snobbish and the classy.

and simon riley had been pushed away. he had been sent to unit after unit, never really finding anyone that could deal with the potent blood lust that oozed from him on missions or the sticky air of death that seemed to cling to him more than his own skin did. he had seen true violence, felt most of it. meat hooks through ribs and dirt in lungs did quite a bit to change a man. he couldn't be blamed for his violence. couldn't be blamed for the decay that trailed behind him or the blacked-out reports that seemed to blossom from his name.

john price didn't blame him. he had also seen true violence. been in the gulag with the hardest of criminals, learned that "special forces" meant "illegal and immoral on a good day" quick, and was okay with that fact. he had long since accepted the blood that would forever stain his skin, no matter how hard he scrubbed. there would always be flesh, rot, bone, blood under his nails.

maybe that's why he didn't shy away from touching simon riley. all those years ago when the man walked into his office after a mission, john didn't try to get the man to leave. the blood on simon's jaw blended with the blood on john's hands, and in the end, they couldn't tell when the carnage they carried became carnage from their own flesh.

from an outsider looking in, it was hard to place the relationship between the two. simon and that scot with the mohawk sure seemed close, but to the keenest eye, they both had something a little darker that they didn't let the other in on. a little too quick to bite, a little too happy to ignite. john and that pretty one with the hat also seemed a little too touchy for just friends, but they were both too sharp in the eye for each other. needed too much control to truly function well.

it wasnt until a video call with shepherd that anyone understood how john was able to get so close to the bloodthirsty jas of simon without getting bitten.

"keep that mutt of yours on a leash, john. he keeps sniffing in places he ought not to."

john scoffed and grabbed simon's jaw. he shook his head a bit, a smirk on his lips. "you don't bite, do you boy?"

"not until you tell me to, sir."

- Cherry Wine live at the O2 Academy Sheffield

This is too beautiful to just sit in my camera roll

I used to get annoyed at my mum for not knowing what was in her massive tote bag.

Now I don’t know what’s in my massive tote bag