Nauta28ship
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Summary
Abbot lifted his head to look down at her. “See, that’s the post-traumatic stress. Something happens that your brain decides is a life or death situation. You have a massive adrenaline kick while it’s all happening, and then when it’s bleeding out of you on the comedown, your brain throws out anything that’s not completely vital. The amount of car crash patients we have who don’t even remember coming to the ER when they submit requests for their medical records for insurance… the brain’s a weird thing, Mohan.”
“Yeah,” she said, shooting him a look out of the side of her eyes. “It can even make you convinced you have to hurt yourself in order to seek external validation when the most logical course of action is rest.”
He snorted softly, shaking his head and leaning it back. “God,” he muttered, his cheeks stained pink. “Robby was right. You should have gone into psych.”
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A night shift from hell ends in Mohan giving Abbot a ride back to his place, where tensions finally boil over.
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Samira Mohan was very good at compartmentalizing. She was also very good at not being chosen. Always second place, always close, but not quite. Salutatorian in high school, second chair in violin, below Langdon to Robby, and always an afterthought to her mother after her fathers death. Not being chosen by Abbot was just another thing to add to the list.
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Fables around the Campfire by skeleton_detective
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
05 May 2020
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Jaskier has wanted to fuck Geralt since the first moment he set eyes on him, and Geralt has tried to hold back, he really has, for the sake of friendship. But sometimes your bard is so bratty and annoying all you can do is fuck them back into submission.
Shameless PWP. -
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Xavier is trying to go up the corporate ladder. That means long meetings, projects with approaching deadlines, and a lot of overtime. He isn't certain if he's more stressed, exhausted, or tired of the monotony of it all. And on top of that, he's not getting any.
Then one day, he finds a suspicious e-mail in his work inbox. Attached, is a picture of an ass sticking out of a wall, and a set of coordinates.
Could it be real?
Technically, this belongs to a series. But it's standalone.
Series
- Part 9 of Writing Prompts, Terribly Misused
- Part 2 of Corporations Can Be Fun Too
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Summary
The room is vast and filled to the brim with aspiring morality guards. It’s concentric—round, with a small stage in the center, and a knee-high pedestal in the center of that. A slim young man kneels on the pedestal, gagged, on all fours, thighs wide and trembling. He can’t move—his calves and forearms are fastened to the pedestal’s surface with red, evenly spaced belts. An imposingly built instructor stands behind him, at the young man’s ass, in the space carved in the wood for just that. The instructor has his pants open. His thick cock juts out, red and hard, akin to a weapon.
“What does it take to deflower a man?” the instructor asks in a booming voice.
Series
- Part 52 of Writing Prompts, Terribly Misused