leather hits

140503 at dawn (m)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smutty smut smut

Summary: Yoongi is always early in his studio and well, he wakes you one morning. Simple, right? Nah, that’s where you’re wrong.

Wordcount: 2.5k 

Your eyes jolt open, stung by the sun ray aurora spilling over you half dressed self. Turning over to your right, you hope to find your angelic boyfriend beside, only to have his spot froze; cool from the slight breeze from the cracked window.

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Night Moves (Part 1)

Originally posted by rocksaroundthesuns

Summary: The reader hooks up with a guy she meets at a bar one night after she gets to the town where her childhood friend, Jess, is getting married in a few days time, leading to some unintended consequences…

Pairing: au!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, smut

A/N: Hope you enjoy part 1!…

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hit me baby, one more time?

word count: 2.5k

summary: dan calls himself daddy, and phil finds out dan has a pain kink

warnings: blood, degradation, pain kink, ddlb, swearing just general kinky shit

a/n: this is probably shit but oh well

“yes! daddy wins! daddy’s the best!” dan giggled as that round ended.

“stop calling yourself daddy it’s weird!” phil said jokingly as they continued the game. after the game ended, and they shut off the camera, phil turned to dan with a soft smirk on his face.

“really dan? daddy? a little bit of a stretch for you, don’t you think?” he asked as he settled a hand on dans thigh, squeezing gently.

“yeah i was just immersed in the game phil it was nothing!” dan replied nervously, his cock twitching from phil’s hand on his leg.

phil nodded. “good, because we both know who’s daddy here, don’t we baby boy?”

dan whimpered and bit his lip, trying to contain himself. phil stood up and placed his hands on each of dans armrests, looking at dan sharply. “ i asked you a question, so answer me properly.”

“well, i don’t know, i think that i could probably dom you,” dan mused.

“oh really? that’s a good joke, dan,” phil scoffed.

“i mean, you’re not even that good of a dom anyways, you barely even make me hard sometimes,” dan stated.

phil furrowed his brows. “i know you like it. stop lying.”

“oh i’m not lying. maybe i just need to find someone else. someone who can actually dom me well. you can barely even control me.” dan examined his nails nonchalantly. “i mean, you’re a bit of a wimp.”

phil growled low in his throat, bringing his hand back and slapping dan across the face, the contact creating a loud sound that reverberated throughout their office.

phil widened his eyes in horror. “oh god dan i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to, it was an accident!”

dan groaned at the impact, a harsh red already blooming on his cheek. “more,” he said breathily.

phil gasped. “jesus, dan, you kinky shit.”

“please, phil, just hit me again,” dan asked.

“um, okay,” phil complied and brought his hand down again, creating the same result as last time: a loud, low moan from dan.

“oh you like that, don’t you?” phil asked, his mind beginning to become more and more dominant. “you just wanted to get a rise out of me so i would hit you didn’t you?”

dan nodded. “i’ve wanted you to hit me for so long, slap me, punch me, whip me, please!”

phil found it almost scarily easy to become so dominant, so aggressive. he just couldn’t help it. dan was looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes of his, and all phil wanted to do was fucking ruin his innocent demeanor.

“oh my god dan you’re such a little slut. you’re already hard,” phil trailed his hand up his thigh and brushed his fingers lightly against dan’s bulge, making his breath hitch. “i barely even hit you, but all you want is more.”

“hit me, daddy. please mark me up, make me bleed,” dan whined. there was nothing that he loved more than phil hitting him. he wanted phil to find his dom headspace, where all of his energy was focused on using and abusing dan. he couldn’t get enough of it; the pain felt so, so good. the crack of the belt against his skin, the sting of the paddle, the pull of the clamps, all of it. he had gotten off in the shower many times to the thought of phil hitting him til bruises bloomed on his flesh and blood speckled his skin.

“oh baby, you’re going to love what’s coming.” phil trailed his finger down the milky expanse of dan’s neck, down over his collarbone, chest, and stomach, imagining how beautifully the dark bruises and scarlet blood would contrast against his pale skin.

dan whimpered. “sir please. i know you want to hit me, leave marks everywhere. abuse me. please?” he asked, looking up through his eyelashes at phil, trying to convince him. he needed this so badly. he and phil had lovely sex all the time, but lately it was just sweet, vanilla stuff with whispered “i love you’s” and soft sounds, and dan was craving more. he wanted, no, needed, this, needed to be put in his place by phil, by his master.

phil stood up. “downstairs. my room. clothes off, against the wall. now.”

dan nodded excitedly and lifted himself out of his chair, but phil put his hand around dans neck and squeezed roughly and pushed him back down. “i swear to fucking god, if you touch yourself, i will flog you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

dan made a soft sound in his throat and choked out a “yes sir” with what little breath he had left.

“good boy. now go.”

dan immediately shot up and scampered downstairs, phil’s eyes following his sweet little baby’s ass as he left the room.

dan raced downstairs and entered phils room, quickly stripping and standing with his front towards the wall, his legs spread apart and his hands on the wall above his head, his chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. a few minutes later he heard footsteps entering the room along with the sound of something else, possibly metallic.

“wow you finally managed to be a good little whore, i’m surprised,” phil said.

dan nodded, and turned his head to the side in hopes of seeing what phil had brought in, but he instead received and harsh slap on his ass, making dan rock forward and then push back for more.

“princess, be patient or ill just leave you like this, hard and pathetic,” phil growled in dan’s ear, turning him around away from the wall. dan looked slightly confused, as phil had told him to be at the wall, but didn’t have much time to think as phil’s fist came sailing towards his jaw. the impact made dan’s teeth clack together and he stumbled onto the ground from the surprise.

“yes sir, sorry sir,” dan replied, bringing his hand up to cup his jaw.

“get the fuck up, you stupid whore,” phil growled, pushing his hand into dan’s hair and yanking him up by his brown locks.

dan winced as phil pulled his hair, and scrambled to his feet.

“get in position you bitch, now.”

dan turned around and spread his legs again, straightening his posture and breathing in deep.

then he opened his mouth in a scream as he felt a sharp metal object hit the skin of his back.

“you answer me loud and clear or else i’ll gag you okay? here are the rules. since i am such a nice master, i’m giving you the pain you so desperately hope for. i will be using two objects to hit you, the first the leather part of the belt, the second is the buckle of the belt. i will be giving you twenty of the first and five of the second, and then fuck you if i feel like you deserve it. you will stay in this position until i say so. if you fall or move, i’ll not let you come for a month, got it?” phil asked.

“yes daddy,” dan answered, biting his lip in anticipation.

“color, baby?” phil inquired, suddenly turning soft and loving, making sure he did in fact have the okay from dan.

“green, daddy, please just get on with it!” dan whined, arching his back.

phil answered with a sharp slap to dan’s ass, jumping back into his dominant headspace, and slammed dan’s head into the wall. “don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

dan groaned and then smiled as he felt blood start to drip from his nose and down onto his chest. he was so hard already it hurt and his cock was blurting precome onto the floor.

“now, i’m going to fit you with a ball gag so the neighbors won’t hear your slutty moans okay?” phil growled.

“yes daddy.”

phil went over to his pile of toys and picked out the gag, which had a nice black strap and a bright red ball in the middle, and brought it over to dan. “look at me.”

dan turned his head towards phil, meeting his bright blue eyes that were filled with lust. phil leaned in and pressed his mouth to dan’s, kissing him roughly right from the start. their mouths melded together, teeth clacking and lips bruising. phil swiped his tongue on dan’s soft bottom lip and dan immediately opened, a soft whine erupting low in his throat. suddenly, phil pulled back and slapped him roughly again, making dan pant even harder. phil pushed the ball in between dan’s pretty pink lips and pulled the strap around his head, pulling it tight.


dan nodded, and phil pressed a soft kiss to dans nose, then turned away and grabbed the brown leather belt from his dresser.

“you ready, whore?” phil asked dan, as he took his place behind him.

dan nodded and moaned low in his throat, trying to say ‘please’ but only managed to let out a garbled plea.

phil smirked and wrapped the belt around his hand for a better grip, then pulled his arm back and whipped it forward, the leather hitting dan’s pale back, forcing a shriek from dans mouth. phil grinned sadistically at the bright pink mark that was already forming on dan’s back.

every hit that phil delivered made dan’s muscles tighten up and a small moan leave his mouth, but not once did he move from his position. phil was on the last hit with the leather, and this one was the hardest, the sound of the belt hitting skin was deliciously loud and dan’s muffled moans were even better.

phil stepped back and looked at his handiwork, dan’s back scored with red marks, some had purple bruises beginning to form on the outside. dan’s breathing was heavy and ragged and his cock was constantly dripping precome now.

dan could feel his hot breath bounce off the wall and the pain dancing up and down his back was warm and stinging.

the belt buckle was a relatively new torture weapon to dan, and completely new to phil. back then, with dan’s previous partner, he was scared of the metal, the blood it pulled out, the way it stung for days afterwards. but now? now he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything, besides of course phil’s cock.

dan turned his head to the side and tried to say something, but his effort was unsuccessful.

“what was that, slut?” phil asked, walking to dan and facing him. dan tried once again to speak, but it came out muffled and incoherent. phil tugged the ball gag down and gripped dan’s chin. “what is it, whore?”

“d-daddy,” dan stammered, his voice shaky, “feels so good, want to bruise, want to bleed, please daddy more, more, want your cock too, i’m so hard, please!”

phil chuckled. “so impatient, so greedy. beg for it, you fucking cockslut.”

“daddy oh god please hit me more twenty isn’t enough! i want more, please. ruin me, mark me, abuse me, i need it! i want it, please sir,” dan begged, his voice dripping with desperation, his only thought was the metal glinting at the end of the belt still wrapped around phil’s hand.

phil sighed. “disappointing, thought you could do better. guess you just are a dumb whore.”

he stepped back and flipped the belt around so that the metal was dragging on the ground. phil had never been so aroused in his entire life, looking at his little cockslut in front of him, wrecked. but not wrecked enough, phil thought.

dan didn’t feel or hear anything for a feel seconds and was concerned that phil had left, when he felt the metal connecting with his skin. his mouth opened in a scream, the cold buckle pulling away before he could catch his breath. the pain shot through his body and his knees buckled, his head dipping low between his shoulders.

“ah, ah, remember whore, if you don’t stay in position you will get a punishment, and not one that your slutty little body will enjoy.” phil reprimanded, pulling the buckle back to him to prepare for another shot.

the buckle hit dan’s back again and another moan/scream ripped from his throat. he felt the warm blood from the harsh hit run down his back and he moaned again loudly despite the gag.

phil once again approached dan and pulled down the gag, whispering in his ear. “i want to hear your loud, whorish moans as i hit you, okay?”

“yes sir,” dan groaned, finally able to talk.

“good boy, such a good, slutty, princess for me.”

dan whined at the praise and arched his back, asking phil silently to hit him again.

phil grinned and complied, making the metal kiss dan’s skin again, and dan tipped his head back and screamed, the pain feeling better than any vibrator or other toy he had ever felt.

again and again the metal hit dans skin, and again and again dan screamed and moaned until his voice was hoarse. the last hit again was the worst, phil bringing down the buckle harder than ever before, opening up a bright red gash on dans back, blood pressing to the surface instantly. dan came instantly as the metal hit, unable to hold it in any longer, the pain just felt so overwhelmingly good.

phil looked at dan, his back painted with bright reds and purples and cum dripping slowly down his leg, and phil had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. it was his first time abusing dan like that, and phil loved it more than he cared to admit.

phil’s study was broken by a low whine from dan who was still in position and phil rushed to his side.

“don’t worry baby, it’s okay you did so good, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” phil asked gently, turning dan to face him.

dan’s face was a mess of tears and a bit of blood from his nose, and he looked absolutely exhausted. he still was breathing heavily and he looked up at phil with half-lidded eyes. “hurts,” he said softly.

“c'mere, love, can you make it to the bathroom?” phil asked gently, placing his hands on both sides of dans face.

dan nodded sleepily, his eyes drifting close as phil wraps his arm around his waist.

“i’m sorry baby, you have to stay awake just a bit more so we can get you taken care of, okay?” phil said, looking at dan to make sure he opened his eyes.

dan simply nodded again and they made their way slowly to the bathroom. when they got there, phil sat dan on the closed toilet seat while he began to fill the tub with water, not adding any bath bombs or bubbles as it might sting dan’s back. every so often he would turn around to make sure dan stayed awake, and to his credit, dan was trying.

phil stood from his position kneeling by the tub and went to leave, but he heard dan whine and turned around to see him making grabby hands at phil.

“i’ll be right back love. i have to go get some stuff for your back okay?” phil asked him.

“okay,” dan replied, all his energy spent.

phil smiles and kisses his curly hair before turning again and exiting the room.

he came back with some pain medication, salve, and gel to sterilize and soothe the marks. he set them on the counter and went over to dan to pick him up and help him to the bath. as dan sunk into the steamy water, he winced at the burn.

“do you want me to stay out here, princess?”

“yes daddy,” dan said quietly, but reached his hand out to phil, who grabbed it and began stroking his arm lightly.

“daddy?” dans soft voice carried to phil.

“yes, darling?”

“can we do that again?”

this is a lot longer than i thought it would be? also constructive criticism is always welcome as i’m new to writing

“Some people are meant to be loved and others just naked” (III)

A/N: Part III of CEO Harry! I sincerely hope this was worth the wait and that you guys enjoy it. Thank you for your lovely comments and support. As always, this includes smut, daddy kink and a shitload of angst. I hope you like it. ♥

Harry and Y/N are enemies in the business world but the perfect partners under the sheets.

Based on the song Wrong by Zayn ft. Kehlani

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV.

Originally posted by ohbabyyeah

The sense of overachievement deeply ingrained in Y/N’s mindset is an innate weapon that can be both a blessing and a curse: when success is the rule rather than the exception, each failure, no matter how minor, feels like the end of the world.

Oliver Zhang represented all four horsemen during Y/N’s friday night apocalypse. She was certain she hadn’t experienced humiliation to its greatest extent until he stood her up at a VIP rooftop bar that overlooked the whole city and highlighted the blossoming nightlife she was letting go to waste -along with three hours of her precious time and a new outfit.

Unable to convert stress into drive whenever the gap between her expectations and the reality of her circumstances starts to diverge, she reverted back to a well-practised posture: that of spoiled brat utterly resolute in her decision to fuck shit up and get away with it.

The taste of defeat and the remnants of shame hovering on the tip of her tongue assumed control of her body and, naturally, what ensued was nothing short of wrongdoings she would gladly exclude from her future autobiography.  A videotape in fast forward, memories that her mind would disguise as dreams -and therefore wouldn’t regret- until the following morning.

What her brain did register was that at some point, her low cut silk burgundy dress came off. 

And somewhere along the way, she ended up in Harry Styles’ bed.

Her resolve might parallel that of an all-powerful creature but she’s only limited to her human strength, and no human in recorded history has been proved strong enough to fight off the inevitable.

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The Broken & the Healing {NESSIAN Oneshot}

Wrote this on a whim, there was not a lot of planning involved. I sat down to write an essay for economics, and this flowed out instead.

Cassian’s POV. Little smut. Lots of sass. 

I hope you enjoy!

“Hit me.”

Nesta blinked at my outstretched hands. “This is ridiculous.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her serious, and highly annoyed, expression. “You said you wanted me to train you. I’m training you. You are a beginner. I am your instructor. Do as I say.”

Her lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

“Nesta. Hit.”

She rolled her eyes, flinging out her hand, her palm hitting mine.

“What, are you giving me a high five?” I raised my eyebrows.

She bared her teeth, sending a chill down my spine. Not from terror, but from something far more animalistic. 

I remembered who I was dealing with.

“Try, Nesta,” I ordered, pushing aside the images that had popped into my mind. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I know you can do a hell of a lot better than that.”

I thought of her during the war, when she saved me, when she protected me. When she fought by my side as my equal in battle. When I thought her face would be the last one that I’d see before eternity swept me away.

She gave me a look that said I am perfect, but kept her mouth shut as she made a second attempt.

I chuckled. “You hit like a girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she yelled, frustrated, throwing her arms in the air. “I have seen Mor, Amren, and Feyre all give you serious bruises. And, yes, I was there when Amren knocked you on your ass last week.”

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D&D 5E NPC - Leonardo Cadaval - Arcane Trickster

Art by: Kent Davis

Name: Leonardo Cadaval
Race: High Elf
Gender: Male
Height: 5ft 11′ / 1.80m
Age: 173
Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster) 


Level: 8

AC 17 (Studded leather), Hp 55 (8d8 Hit Die), Proficiency +3, Speed 30ft,

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

languages: Common, Elvish, Thieves’ cant,

Ability Scores:
Str 12 (+1) Dex 20 (+5) Con 16 (+3) Int 18 (+4) Wis 13 (+1) Cha 14 (+1)

Attacks: Dagger of Venom (+9 to hit, 1d4+6 Piercing damage) and Off-hand Dagger of Venom (+9 to hit, 1d4+6 Piercing damage)

Spellcasting: 8th level Arcane Trickster, spellcasting ability is Intelligence (spell save DC 15, to hit with spell attacks +7)  


Cantrips (at will): Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation,

1st level (4 slots): Alarm, Detect Magic, Disguise Self, Jump,

2nd level (2 slots): Invisibility, Spider Climb,

Skills: Acrobatics, Arcane, Deception, Perception, Sleight of Hand, Stealth,

Equipment: Two Daggers of Venom, Studded leather, Burglar’s Pack, Thieves’ Tools, 43gp,

Racial Traits: Darkvision (60ft / 18m / 12sqr), Trance (meditate for 4 hours instead of sleep), Fey Ancestry,

Class Features: Expertise (Arcane, Deception, Sleight of Hand, Stealth), Sneak Attack (4d6), Cunning Action, Roguish Archetype ( Arcane Trickster), Uncanny Dodge, Evasion,


Leonardo Cadaval is a inquisitive but easily bored Rogue who’s taken up magic to enhance his skills.

Ideal: There’s nothing wrong with stealing spells, No one should selfishly hoard knowledge.

Bond: One day I’ll prove to those arrogant students at the arcane institute the meaning of humility.

Flaw: I have a bad habit of stealing from well prepared individuals.

Sunshine // Carl Grimes

Summary: the reader (Carl’s girlfriend) gets taken by Negan and Carl makes it his mission to get her back, with a few bumps in the road of course.

Originally posted by lets-letmeimagine-posts

“Take her, she has a kind of… shine about her” Negan said and pointed his bloodied bat in your face. You sat back in shock and terror as 2 guys began making their way towards your shaking figure.

“N-no, please don’t” you cried and began jerking around in panic, your breathing became uneven as your eyes connected with Carl’s angry ones

“Don’t touch her, y-you can’t take her” Carl snapped as one guy began leading you towards the back of the truck as well as Daryl. His touch was rough and forceful and was probably going to leave a slight mark. As you passed Carl he grabbed your hand but it was quickly torn away by one of the saviors.

“I’ll look after her” Daryl said to Carl before the doors to the truck closed with a bang. You got one last look at Carl’s worried face before the doors closed. It looked like it was taking everything in him to refrain from snapping at Negan.

“They’ll get us back kid, he’ll come for you” Daryl spoke with slight hope in his voice.

“That’s what I’m worried about”

“Get up, Negan wants to see you and he has a surprise” Dwight snapped and grabbed you by your forearm roughly. Your arms were already decently marked up what’s another few bruises, right?

You were exhausted and extremely sleep deprived causing Dwight to practically drag you to what you assumed was Negans room, you had little to no energy to walk there yourself. Every part of your body ached after days of sleeping on the hard, gravel ground and having a diet of what you had worked out to be dog food sandwiches (not that you ate them).

You could’ve fallen asleep right there under Dwight’s rough grip but the voice of a humorous Negan pushed these thoughts away. “Shit kid, you look horrible” he bellowed and laid Lucielle on the spare chair.

You could’ve continued to ignore him and pretend he didn’t exist, you definitely would’ve if it wasn’t for the familiar figure next to him.

“Carl?” you asked, tears forming in your tired, worn eyes. There was something different about him, he didn’t have his eye covered which was a sight you’d only seen once or twice but you weren’t complaining.

Without another word he strided over to you and pulled you into his loving arms you’d missed immensely over the past few weeks. Your knees went weak as soon as he wrapped his arms around you and you let all of your weight fall onto him, you’d probably lost a few pounds since he last saw you but you didn’t know if he noticed.

“I came back for you” he whispered in your ear and you let out tears of joy. Although you probably weren’t allowed to go home to Alexandria with him you felt overjoyed to be back in his arms and savoured the moment. You were too weak and tired to answer so you just snuggled closer into his warm body.

“Wow this is touching, it really is but we have to get you back home” Negan said to Carl who’s arms suddenly tightened around you, neither of you wanted to let go.

“I’m not going without her” Carl growled and you used what small amount of energy you had to squeeze out of his arms, reluctantly.

“You have to g-go” you whispered. Your voice was obviously dryer and raspier and you felt the sudden urge to cough up a storm.

“This is heartbreaking, Really touching so i’ll tell you what kid. You get to take your girl home right now, heck i’ll even let you take some food for the trip” Negan spoke and you awaited for the catch that would make this deal go right out the window.

“All you gotta do, is sing me a song” You twisted your eyebrows and looked between Carl and Negan in confusion

“I-i don’t know any songs-” this had to be some sick, twisted joke of Negans. You were sure it had been at least a few years since Carl had listened to any decent songs.

“Sing me a song, What’d your mom use to sing you? What’d your dad play in the car?” he repeated, although this time it sounded rougher. He got up off his perch and hung the bat in front of your face making Carl tense, you were immune to this kind of treatment now.

“Y-you are my sunshine… my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey… you never know dear how much i love you so please don’t take my sunshine away” You noticed just how nervous Carl sounded and gave his shaky hand a squeeze reassuring him that what he was doing was for the best.

“Lucille loves being sung to, almost as much as she loves smashing in brains” Negan taunted and you felt the cool wire against your bare arms.

“Can we leave now” Carl snapped. You saw how absolutely broken he looked and couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty. He was here for you after all.

“In a hurry to get away huh? I’ll get you two on the first trip outta here but if i ever, let me repeat that EVER see or hear about either of you causing trouble in my home again i will not hesitate to make the punishment worse, the next one resulting in some actual damage” Negan threatened, emphasizing on multiple words. The bat was removed from your cold, pale skin and you felt as if you could breath again after being suffocated for so long.

“Understood” Carl grunted and put a protective arm around your shoulders.

“It was lovely having you here my dear, i’ll be visiting you often” Negan smirked and gave your free hand a kiss making shivers run down your spine at an alarming rate.

The two of you left the sanctuary hand in hand and in the back of one of the vehicles the saviours had so kindly allowed you to use. Your weak figure collapsed on Carl as soon as you hit the leather seats.

“W-when i was taken i didn’t get to say something” you whispered, your scratchy voice was causing you an immense amount of pain

“What was it” Carl picking up your bony hand and began fiddling with your fingers, something he did often that you use to enjoy

“I l-love you” You said and felt relieved that you’d finally got those three words out. It was true, you did love Carl and after the huge rescue stunt he’d just pulled all for you you thought he deserved to know.

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know” he smiled and kissed your forehead lightly, for the first time in a while you actually genuinely smiled.

Bedtime Stories - PART 2


Hello wonderful people! could one of you write some interaction between the Granda Jamie and/or Grannie Claire and their grandkids?

Bedtime Stories: Part Two.

Escape seemed impossible now and she gritted her teeth as Randall took hold of her and - with one firm bow to the women who were gathering their wits now in readiness for their own husbands - escorted her from the room.

For too long she had idled and her chance of freedom had disappeared as fast as it had arrived.

The journey home was melancholy to say the least. Randall paid her no mind as the grey/green countryside of Scotland passed by the windows of their carriage. Part of her ached to open the doors and just roll out into the forests beyond, in the hopes that she could fade into the idyllic scenery never to be seen again. But Randall would find her. He would search until he had her back in his *care* and then he would see that she paid for it.

As the gates closed behind the carriage, the large wrought iron frames shuddering and clunking into place, Claire wrapped her arms around her belly as she tried to hold back the dread. Randall gave a curt nod to Fraser as his strong hand wrapped around her arm, dragging her up into the main house. Slamming the door behind him he turned on Claire, white hot rage flaring across his face.

Claire stumbled backwards, her gaze hard as she kept eye contact.

“You know the rules, Claire. They’re simple. You don’t converse with the staff. Do you hear me!” He bellowed, causing Claire’s heart to lurch in her chest as she tried to keep her composure. “The next time you disobey, I’ll have him trussed up and flogged - right in front of you. Do you understand? He works *for me*, and his instructions are very clear. As are yours.”

“I-I…” she began, fear spiking at the thought of Fraser being hurt because of her, “it was me, not him. He knew not too but I started it. I touched him…”

Randall’s cheeks pulsed with blood, the red pouring across his face as he took one step towards Claire, his hand raised as if to slap her. Then as quickly as it came, it vanished and a scary smile crossed his face. Something in him had snapped, the prospect of her implicating herself maybe, but it intensified the panic within her as she fumbled with the fabric of her skirts, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as she awaited her fate.

“Get upstairs, Claire,” he said with marked calmness, “remove your dress and your shift and lie face forward on the bed. I said there would be consequences…”

– — –

Echoes of soft splashes reverberated around her half empty room as Claire curled herself into a small ball, her tears dripping onto the cold stone floor. Her back, arse and legs still ached, the healing wounds itching where he’d taken his belt to her over and over again. He’d enjoyed it, the sounds of the leather hitting her pliant flesh. He’d loved hearing her protests, he’d even pushed the windows open as far as he could to allow the sound of her agony to flow into the night. Randall had wanted Fraser to hear her cries of anguish as he’d tanned her hide for her indiscretions. It was a warning. Heed the rules, or feel the lash.

The irons we no longer metaphorical, though they weren’t needed to hold her in a room that was already so well locked and guarded. It was her punishment. No longer could she walk. No longer could she open the window to smell the scent of the outdoors. Her meals came to her now, the only light in the darkness. But it consisted of stale bread and cheese with a tiny amount of mead to keep her from dying form thirst.

Randall had left the property on business, and his strict instructions were that Claire was to be kept -alone- with her shackles until he returned.

Unable to buoy herself any longer, Claire sobbed, her cold hands wrapping solidly around her pillow as day turned into night and into day once more. Unsure as to how long Randall would be away for, she stopped even paying attention to the days, choosing instead to sleep as much as she could.

A distinct clunk woke her as the moonlight filtered in through the closed windows. Sitting up in bed, she rattled the chains that bound her feet to the floor, the heavy metal resting uncomfortably over the skin of her ankles.

The guard didn’t say a word as he entered, unlocked her shackles and left, leaving the door to her cell wide open. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Claire did a double take. It was dark, unnaturally so since thick boards covered the bottom of the windows now, and her eyes were taking some time to adjust. But as they did, she could see that she wasn’t wrong.

Groping for something more to cover herself with, Claire gripped the hooded robe, her heart pounding out an uneven rhythm as she counted the number of ways that this could be a trap.

She didn’t care now though. Still raw from her beating, she saw no other way. If she stayed she might never encounter such an opportunity again.

Creeping through the deathly silence, Claire made her way down and through the servant’s quarters. She didn’t want to use the front door just in case someone -anyone- was watching. Nobody appeared to be around. It was late and the master wasn’t home to care for, so it was likely that all of the staff were fast asleep by now.

Hobbling out into the fresh evening air, Claire made straight for the stables, hoping to God and anyone else who might listen that Fraser was still in Randall’s employ. Opening the groom’s bed chamber doors, she slid inside, pulling the hood closer around her face as she crept through the sleeping lads looking out for the splash of red that might be amongst them.

He was there, his back turned as he bent forwards. Still awake, Fraser was seemingly undoing the laces on his boots as if to ready himself for sleep, but Claire could see the tense set of his shoulders - as if he had been waiting for something else entirely. Turning his head, Claire could see his profile as a smile lit his previously sombre features.

“You came,” he whispered as he groped in the dark for his jacket.

“It was you?” She replied, awe lacing her tone as she crawled onto the bunk beside him.

“Aye, weel, me and another but I willna tell ye who fer now.”

“We have to go then? Quickly?” Claire said, her hand reaching for his across the scratchy sheets.

“Aye, we do. But I’m ready.” Pulling her to her feet, Fraser ducked under the low beams as he tugged her in the direction of the barn, away from the sleeping stable hands. “We canna go out the main gate because of the watch Randall has posted there at nights - but there is a way through the woods and into the dark beyond, ken?”

Claire nodded, gooseflesh prickling on her arms as adrenaline filled her from head to toe. “With horses?” She managed to ask, her mouth dry from nervous joy as her eyes darted around the full stable.

“Oh aye, we wouldna get verra far on foot and we need to make it to the port by sun-up to catch the boat.”


“O’ course, mistress,” he quipped with a jovial glint in his eye, “if we dinna awa’ Randall would catch us, nay doubt.”

“Where would we go?” She whispered, her hope igniting once more.

“France. I have relatives there. My godfather has procured us safe passage. If yer willing, mistress Claire?” His eyes twinkled and he glanced quickly over her as if to check her for ill-health before chivvying her away. 

Claire nodded, her head bobbing up and down fast enough to cause it to spin and her eyes to unfocus. “Yes, Mr Fraser. I’m willing. Please, take me away.”

Hoisting her up onto one of the larger stallions, Fraser pulled himself up behind her and moved a stray hair from her cheek. Pushing the horse forwards, he brought him out and led him down the bank that led off Randall’s property. As he rode, Fraser slid one hand around Claire’s waist, holding tight onto the reins as the steady gait of the horse rocked them closer and closer.

He waited until they were safely away from any other staff that might stop them, clear of the house and the prison that Claire had been stashed away in, before speaking again. Shifting the material of her hood, he brought his mouth to her ear, bringing her out of her daze before speaking to her in a hushed whisper. “…and it’s Jamie, Claire. Mr Fraser was my father, but ye can call me Jamie.”

“Nice to meet your acquaintance, Jamie,” Claire smiled as she spoke, her hand coming to rest on his atop the reins as they travelled through the underbrush.

“Aye, finally. Get ready though, Claire,” he quipped, his tone light and airy now that they were away from danger, “we’re going to have to ride hard and fast to make it to the port. Are ye ready?”

“Yes,” Claire said, her thighs clenching around the saddle as she felt the horse jump beneath her.

Clicking his tongue, Jamie pushed his heels into the stallions sides as the pair galloped off into the dense forest beyond, the deep inky green swallowing them whole as the night rolled onward.

“…and so,” Claire muttered, her eyelids drooping as she yawned, leaned down and kissed Jemmy and Mandy on their foreheads - one by one, “they lived happily ever after.”

Standing, Claire wiped the sleep from her eyes as she smiled down over her grandchildren. The story remained mostly the same for them. An evil king holding the poor lassie hostage and the brave prince who rescued her from a life of solitude and pain. But she retracted the beating…and hers and Jamie’s names for the sake of fiction. 

But neither Mandy or Jem were daft.

“I’m sae glad,” Mandy yawned, turning over as she pulled the blankets right up to her nose and burrowed beneath her covers, “that granda rescued ye, Grannie Claire. I love ye both.”

Claire smiled, tears welling in her eyes as she tip-toed backwards and closed the door with a click.

Jamie came up behind her, his solid weight resting against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Abed, are they?” He crooned, his nose nuzzling against the portion of skin they lay exposed beneath her ear.

“Yes, both fast now.” Claire murmured in return, her heart filled with love as Jamie kissed her softly.

“Christ I love ye, my sassenach,” he whispered, using the nickname he’d bestowed upon her from the moment they’d set foot upon that ship to France. “I loved ye then…from afar, until I managed to steal you away. And I love ye now more than ever.”

Sliding his hands beneath her legs he hoisted her into his arms and carried her off to their own chambers, his warmth surrounding her like a wonderfully fluffy blanket. “As I love you, Jamie Fraser. Blood of my blood,”

“Bone of my bone,” he echoed repeating their wedding vows as he closed the door to their chambers, sealing them both off from the outside world and any further disturbance.

Until their lives shall be done…


it just feels Good and Right to wear black and look like a scruffy nu goth punk. like does anyone else ever get that feeling, when you put together an outfit you Love and your makeup comes out blended and right and you see yourself and it just feels like You. like when i’m wearing chipped black nail polish, or black lipstick, or my killstar leggings with the sigils on them, or a leather jacket. it just hits the spot. like seeing a frog on a lily pad. like yea this is what youre supposed to do. congratulations 

30 Day OTP Challenge

Day 1: Holding Hands


I’ve always wanted to do this so I thought I’d give it a shot:) I probably won’t post a drawing every day, but I want to try and do all 30 prompts by the end of summer.

Sleep tight

Summary:  Negan pays a visit to his favorite wife late at night.

Author:  Multireality

Pairing(s): Negan x reader

Word Count: 1190

Warnings: Smut, slight fluff, Negan’s potty mouth, unprotected sex

Author’s Notes: This is my first one-shot so please go easy on me. Send any requests for future imagines and one shots. I write for most fandoms so just message me if you have any questions on what fandoms I write for.

I heard him before I saw him. The tell-tale sound of a zipper echoed in the quiet room, the thud of leather hitting the floor seemed louder in the quiet of the night. It must have been the early hours of the morning, as the sun had long since been forgotten and I turned in for sleep hours ago.

My eyes were open yet I lay stock still, lying in wait for him to make the first move. “Y/N” he whispered, his voice slowly moving towards me. “Negan it’s late”, his soft chuckle filled my ears like music, I loved when he was in this mood – playful and carefree. “I missed my favorite wife”, the sound of his pants hitting the floor signified that he was slowly stripping off his clothes.

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mélange | part 1

fandom: monsta x
member/reader: kihyun, female, minhyuk (mentioned)
genre/warning(s): smut, slight!degradation, spanking, toys: belt
length: 2K+
summary: in which your new neighbor next door has really loud sex and so you decide to have a competition because there is no way blondie is having better sex than you.


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Wisdom Teeth Struggles

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 2,286

Warnings: None

Summary: You get your wisdom teeth out and Dean and Sam take this opportunity to mess with you… Or you mess with them. 

Author’s Note: This isn’t edited. I just wrote this a while ago and never looked at it until today so I am sorry for all the mistakes in it. 

Originally posted by yaelstiel

Dean was lucky to not have wisdom teeth. However, you did, and they were on their way to pick you up from the orthodontist.

“Remember when you got yours taken out?” Dean looked over at his brother with a smirk.

“Dude, I was 17 and I was hopped up on all those drugs.” Sam grimaced at the memory.

“You tried to kiss me and feel up dad. You thought you were at a gay strip bar.” Dean started to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, can we not talk about that? That happened a long time ago and frankly, I don’t want to revisit my teen years.” Dean till laughed but he shut up about it and continued to drive. He got to the orthodontist a while later and walked with his brother into the lobby area.

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A/N: Thought this up on my own and I wrote it while fighting a depression spell; I apologize if it was a little…well…depressing at times. I like writing stories that have a sad aspect to them. I hope you enjoy this one! 

Summary: You disobey orders and get kidnapped; when Bucky saves you, it leads down some dark roads as you tell him about of your thoughts and feelings. 

Warnings: Smut, angst, depression, light fluff

Word Count: 4,630

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Best Laid Plans

Chapter 1. Well… That Did Not Go As Planned


With assistance by the ever amazing @paigek9

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Past Child Abuse

The sound of tyres spitting up gravel caused heads to rise as campers and councillors alike turned to look at the approaching black car with various levels of curiosity and fear. It wasn’t an unusual reaction to black cars at Camp Campbell since the only cars they saw for most of the summer were the camp’s battered car and bus and the black tinted vehicles the federal agents drove.

This was no fed car though. It screamed money and power in a showy way rather than the cold practicality of the FBI’s cars. People stared as the car pulled up in front of the dented flagpole and a short Indian man stepped out, quickly followed by a graceful dark haired woman.

The man’s piercing teal eyes scanned over the children and councillors with a frown which only deepened as one small boy moved.  A dark curly haired head trying to shrink down behind a wooden table covered with rolls of bandages and gauze from the day’s second aid activities.

“Maximilian.” The name was a command. There was no softness to it. The only familiarity was cold recognition.

Nikki and Neil looked at their friend, concern blanketing their faces as Max whispered something to them before slowly rising to look towards his father. Towards but not at. He was not willing to meet the man’s bright teal eyes, their glow harder and more toxic than his own.

“You are leaving. Grandfather’s funeral is tomorrow and you will attend,” the man stated giving no options, no leniency.

Max’s face was hard, teal eyes glaring at the ground. “I’m not going.”

The short man’s eyes narrowed and he walked stiffly to Max, the other campers moving out of his way without protest. “Maximilian this is important and you will show your respect to me and to your grandfather,” he growled out teeth grinding as he looked down at the stubborn boy.

Max shook his head but didn’t answer. His eyes were wide now, pupils shrunk to pin pricks staring at the ground in terror.

Shaking himself from his initial shock of the unexpected arrival David bounded up to the man putting himself beside Max, hands placed possessively on the boy’s shoulders. That Max didn’t fight to get away from his touch was more than enough for David to understand how unsettled he was feeling.

“What a surprise Mr Jones I didn’t think Max would get to see you for another month. Wow he must be so surprised! Max really loves it here at Camp Campbell, sorry to hear that he doesn’t want to leave just yet. What can I say, he’s just been having that much fun! Could I have a word with him?” David asked forcing a smile onto his face while making the man turn to look up at him.

He could feel Max wobble beneath his hands as those hard eyes slid off him, their weight lifting giving the boy some relief. David tightened his grip on the blue hoodie to keep Max standing.

Mr Jones scowled up at David not liking having to deal with the tall smiling counsellor. “There has been a death in the family and Maximilian is going to be there. It is expected and would be disrespectful not to attend,” he said teeth grinding, voice rising with annoyance.

David could see where Max got his temper. The man was radiating restrained anger, his frustration thrashing and boiling beneath bright eyes.

“Maximilian’s grandfather passed earlier in the week,” Mrs Jones spoke, her voice soft but lacking emotion, “We want him to come with us to the funeral.” She moved away from the car and something colourful blurred in the background, a small sudden movement ignored by everyone as their eyes remained glued to the drama before them.

“You want me to come play happy family you mean,” Max spat leaning against David, trying to hide himself in his counsellor’s knees.

“Stop this nonsense. You are creating a scene,” Mr Jones hissed reaching forwards to grab at Max’s arm.

He never even made it close.

David shoved Max behind him before that tense threatening hand could touch a single blue cotton thread. The smile dropping from his long face, replaced with a stubborn look. “You will not touch this child.”

Mr Jones gave David a look of murder. “Maximilian is my son and I will discipline him how I see fit.”

Max flinched back, hands dug into the bottom of David’s shirt. David stiffened and looked Mr Jones dead in the eyes. “If Max wants to stay at Camp Campbell then he is welcome to. For as long as he wants.”

“Maximilian. Come here immediately,” Mrs Jones stared through David to Max, leaving the tall man with icy daggers in his stomach. “We have wasted enough time already.”

“I’m not going with you.” Finding his voice Max poked his head out from behind David’s back, eyes shining he fought back tears as he screamed at his parents, “I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT ME! YOU’RE FUCKING SHIT PARENTS! I’D BE BETTER OFF DEAD THAN LIVING WITH YOU!”

“MAXIMILIAN!” Mr Jones roared rushing forwards to grab Max roughly by the wrist. Dragging him away from David with a sharp tug he seemed to grow in size, face flushed, black curly hair springing free of the gel holding it flat and neat.

There was a sharp sound as his open hand collided with Max’s face knocking the small boy back a pace, the only reason he stayed on his feet was Mr Jones’s bruising iron grip.

David’s hands curled into fists and he took a long stride towards his camper before Gwen stepped in beside him. Nails digging sharply into his forearm Gwen looked to him and shook her head.

“David you can’t,” Gwen whispered to him.

Fists still balled tight David was shaking with rage. “How dare you!” David said voice rising and trembling slightly, “How fucking dare you hit a child! I’ll report you to child services you utter monster!”

Max was limp against his father’s grip, no longer listening to David rant. Why bother? There wasn’t anything Camp Man could do now. He was fucked. From the corner of his eye he could see someone roll away from the black car and he steeled himself. At least something was going to plan, even if the plan was completely fucked. Just like everything else.

"We will be leaving now. Good luck with child services. You won’t get anywhere near us, our lawyers will eat you alive. By next week this bloody camp won’t even exist and you’ll be out on the streets you fucking useless bastard,” Mr Jones said face red as he stared down David before turning sharply and dragging Max through the other campers towards the car.

Mrs Jones followed closely behind them. One hand on her husband’s back the other reached into a pocket and produced a cell phone. She was preparing to speed dial their layers the second they were back in decent service range.

As soon as they were near the car Max started to scream. Scream and swear and fight. No fucking way were they taking him without a fight. Not again. Not this time.

Wrenching open the door Mr Jones picked up Max and threw the squirming child into the back seat, slamming the door shut as soon as Max hit the leather cushions. Max recovered and scrambled over, frantically trying the door while his father looked down at him through the tinted windows with disdain.

Walking with a calm that chilled everyone Max’s parents quickly entered the car. Once the doors were closed Gwen released her hold on David and the lanky man ran to Max’s door trying the handle with an intensity that matched Max’s own. Useless.

Catching Max’s eyes through the dark window David pulled himself together enough to put on his bravest face even though he was screaming inside. “Chin up Max. Just hold on a little longer… I’ll come and get you. I’ll fix everything Max, I promise.” The confidence he had painted on his face didn’t make it into his voice and they both knew it.

Max stared at David then slid his eyes past him to where Neil and Nikki stood hidden amongst the other campers. Neil looked grey as he gave a small nod. Nikki was crying. Max hated it. He hated this whole fucking situation. Why couldn’t his parents have just stayed the fuck away like always? Why did they have to ruin everything? Well fuck them. He wasn’t going to let them hurt him anymore. Even if he had to die to do it, he wasn’t going to fucking take it.

Pulling his eyes back to David Max steeled himself. “Fuck you David. You can’t do shit. At least I’ll never have to see you or this fucking hell hole again.” He was crying as he said it. He hadn’t realised he had started crying. Fuck it. He came into this world screaming, crying, and covered in blood. He may as well leave the same way.

The car revved, growling as it was thrown into gear. Tyres bit into the loose gravel as it raced down the rough drive, speeding away from Camp Campbell as fast as Mr Jones could manage.

Max looked back and saw David stumble a few steps after them before vanishing into a cloud of gravel dust. Turning away he mustered all the rage and fight left in him and aimed it at his parents. Opening up all the raw dark pain he felt he shouted every curse word he had ever learnt at them. Screaming and crying and done.

Done with it all.

They made it to the turn at the end of the camp drive before the brakes failed.

Neil had done well.

The speeding car seemed to float at first, two wheels lifting off the road.

Then with a screech, four.

Everything seemed to happen at once and forever for Max as the car bounced first on gravel with a grating sound and then flew. The world spinning as they bounced again. Grass churned underneath buckling metal.

They rose into the air again. Another bounce.

A more final bounce.

A bounce ending with a crunch, darkness and the smell of pine.