poledancingdinos

[poledancingdinos]

So we all know that Vesemir spends most of his rime during the year in Kaer Morhen and its surrounding lands, only following the Path on rare occasions.

What we have not yet considered is that throughout the winter his Wolves are preparing enrichment for Vesemir.

Eskel has a bunch of tiny lil goat figurenes, numbered 1 to 50, that he hides throughout the keep. The first one is easy to spot, but for the rest Eskel goes all out with his hiding places. Thanks to their small size they fit everywhere. In the tiniest nooks and crannies, in a pair of socks, under mug, balanced on top of a wonky old nail in the far back of the stables. He always finds them in the most unexpected places and they always make him smile.

Lambert takes a piece of chalk and draws dicks everywhere. If Vesemir wants to wipe them all off, he has to move furniture, climb through the rafters, walk across the roof, stretch and bend his body in ways he normally wouldn't have to. It's worth it, tho, when he finds tiny messages, things Lambert would never say out loud to him, but can admit when he's halfway across the continent.

Geralt leaves him treaure maps. A piece of rolled up parchment Vesemir will find in the back of his closet, his riding boots, in the garden shed, etc. They're traditional maps, sometimes riddles, sometimes simple drawings of places Vesemir needs to look for to find the "treasure". It's always things Vesemir would consider a luxury, things he likes but would never buy for himself, like puzzle boxes, rare books or expensive soaps.

[poledancingdinos]

i am DECEASED but now the question is , which one of ur henry boys would do this (and preferably drag it to something more 🥵) , Henry or Sherlock or August !!!!!!!

(the link isn't porn dw)

Oh!!!! You are speaking my brat language. I love denying kisses >:D

And ...

It's not often that Sherlock displays affection. It's not that he doesn't yearn for you. It's just that he likes to maintain a certain persona, pretending that these frivolous games are beneath him.

So imagine his surprise and ire when he leans to kiss you, and you turn your face away to deny him the sweetness of his lips. He sulks, unapproving of your behaviour and tries again with his fingers lightly caressing your cheek.

But before his lips meet yours, you sway to the other side and then quickly step away and attempt an escape. You hardly make it to the door when the hook of his cane locks around your waist.

With a yank, he hauls you back to him, and before you can even whimper, you are flushed against his chest with his arm wrapped securely against the small of your back.

"Don't deny me," he warns darkly and, with his knuckle below your chin, tilts your head up so he can finally devour your mouth.

Geralt is voracious.

And while he can be patient and soft, he is still a wolf, one that doesn't appreciate being denied of his prey.

As you sway your head and avert your gaze, he immediately snarls. You don't get to do it twice. Before you can even step back, his hand is locked around your jaw, and he is shoving you against a tree bark with his body fully pressed into yours.

His mouth ghosts upon your lips, he hums and you can taste ale and danger on his hot breath.

"Mine," he simply growls and then kisses you with the utmost vigour.

Any thought about denying him dies as his tongue penetrates your mouth.

[poledancingdinos]

The Reunion

Summary: A long time ago the three of you could never be apart. Tonight you will be closer than ever.

Prompt: 

My mind went straight to sharing a truck and sharing a lover.

Pairing: Syverson x Reader x Walter. (No ethnic or body type description)

Words: 1.6K (for fuck sake I don’t know how, it’s utter rubbish)

Warnings: 18+, sex, double penetration, threesome sex, anal, vaginal, mentions of alcohol, a very brief mention of high school bullying, biting, unprotected sex, love triangle, slight jealousy, creampie, anal creampie, slight anal play, femDom if you blink, somewhat size kink though the reader’s body type is not mentioned, they are just two huge men.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own.

A/N: So take my migraine, a panic attack and a tendency to write trashy smut and this is what you get. Not beta’d. Sorry if it’s terrible.

The Reunion

It was always the three of you; The Bull, The Bear and their benevolent queen. Decades past since the day you first met - and still, the memory sat sharply in your heart.

Keep reading

[poledancingdinos]

What would Sherlock do when he finally discovers that his lover is the villain who’s been evading him?

Summary: Sherlock finds out that his mistress is the murderer he was set to capture.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Unnamed OFC (3rd Person POV)

Words: 1k, oops.

Warnings: 18+, smut. Slight choking, betrayal, angst, hinted dub-con, angry punish fucking, risky creampie, breeding kink. Proceed with caution.

I give no permission to copy my work, parts of it or reposting it anywhere online.

A/N: Probably not what you had in mind. So I hope I don't disappoint. Not beta'd

Please, leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. It means everything to us writers.

Blue Monday

He promised himself to never fall victim to the ensnaring spells of a woman, but a man's heart is easily bewitched by a pretty face and a plump set of lips. Lips that tell tales of sweet poison, intoxicating as Absinthe; they make you drunk, make you blind.

How could a brilliant detective such as himself not see that the very criminal he was after was the woman he was inside of.

Failure stings.

Betrayal burns.

Standing before him, she held her thumbs together, eyes surveying the shut door to calculate the many failed escape endeavours she could attempt. Defeated, she returned her gaze to him, her breath lightly shuddering at the fury written on his face.

There will be no freedom from him tonight.

"Demimonde," he spat, his thick brows knit together.

Glossy, her eyes flicked at his hands, watching the pattern of veins becoming thickly with blood as he clenched his fists in ire. Could Sherlock kill a woman? She wondered...

"I never meant for us to be..."

Crude fingers were on her throat before she could complete her sentence. With one step, Sherlock forced her against the dark wooden wall and breathed down her face. He was nothing but a lion wishing to tame his deceitful female.

"What did you not mean, my love?" He snarled, applying pressure to her neck while his knee pushed between her legs, and he made haste of huddling her skirts above it, "did you not mean to spread these legs for me while you poisoned those men?"

A quiver shook her bottom lip, her chest sunk heavily with anguish. "I can explain!"

"Can you?" Sherlock growled, pushing the leaden weight of his body to further diminish the flame of hope that cascaded in her heart. Merely a detective, though he was a man of large sturdy built. She might have murdered dozen of men, yet all he had to do was tighten his grip, and she would perish.

Frigid ravenous eyes fell onto the twitch in her throat. A sense of unbidden satisfaction poured into Sherlock's loins, hardening his cock at the sight of a woman so helpless in his grasp. The notion that he could take her life, that she was bound to his mercies, made him feel both powerful and devious, and while his mind raged between two dichotomous emotions, he found himself caught between the desire to either kill or fuck her. Though this battle of induction short-lived when hot droplets fell to his knuckles.

Sherlock's gaze ascended after the rivulets, meeting her petrified face. Swallowing the bitter bile in his throat, he leaned even closer, his mouth now a breath from hers. "Tell me."

"They needed my help," she whispered pleadingly, "I helped these women."

She meant to say more, but her thoughts were in disarray as she felt the warmth of his palm stalk between her thighs. Urgently, she tried to keep them shut, but the strength of his hand denied her will, and soon his fingers found way to her undergarments.

Much to his content, the silky fabric was damp of debauchery.

"Whore," he fumed, "And what of us? Was I nothing but your pawn?"

"No!" She yelped, both in denial and surprise as the sound of tearing garments filled her ears.

"I loved you!"

Sherlock's glower became severe; the bones and muscles of his face strained, yet in his pale blue orbs, she witnessed the icicles break into sharpened shards.

She opened her mouth to softly comfort him when suddenly she was flipped to face the wall while his hands tore and fumbled with the back of her dress.

"I will treat you like the whore you are," he rasped, reaching to unbutton his trousers and pull out his hungry cock. There was no need for him to spit on his hand other than degrade her, and for reasons she could not explain, it did nothing but further enkindle the blazes that bloomed in her core.

Urgently, his fingers pumped and coated his girthy shaft and then with one thrust, he buried himself deep within her squeezing flesh.

The servants would have heard her echoing scream.

He cared not - the delights of having her wrapped so hot and tight around him offered much more in return, causing him to lose whatever remnants of propriety he had left.

Merciless, he fucked her, grunting profanities in her ear while binding her arm above her head in dominance. Every plunge he made was more brutal than the other, reaching depths within her that made her sputter desperate whimpers of ache. He was far too large, so much that she feared he would split her, but he was her Sherlock, still, and though his demeanour was of a king punishing a peasant girl, her battered little cunt tightened around each dutiful stroke and succumb to his conquer.

Moaning, she arched her back to gain more of the drag of his veiny cock between her colliding walls, her body shaking and pushing to meet his hips that snapped ever faster into her ass. Believing that this will be the last time she would feel him inside her, she wished to prolong the pleasure, but her climax came quicker than ever before.

With a piteous cry, she fell into bliss.

Sherlock’s sight reddened as he was captured by her little Eden; again, he was deceived, fallen victim to the sweetness of her body, his heart flaring as all he wanted was to be a part of her forever. His mind screamed at him to pull away, yet his hips jerked in urge, beating into her until he shouted and flooded her womb with a healthy sprout of his seed.

Unfamiliar with the sensation, she gasped with surprise; an unbidden secondary joy tingled amid her stuffed cunt. As if to make things worse, Sherlock continued to grind inside her, pushing his elixir deeper into her fertile cavern.

What has he done?

After several quick strokes, Sherlock exhausted himself completely. He hardly even noticed how tightly he was still holding her wrist, his fingers now squeezing her delicate bones.

Not a single drop of wit was left on him as he released from her, leaving her a tattered mess. He had half of mind to name her his whore and throw a coin at her feet, but once she turned to stare at him with a gaze fresh with new tears, his heart betrayed him again.

Making haste to tuck himself back in his trousers, he smoothed his fingers through his large curls and took a step away from her. "You are to remain locked in this room until I decide of your fate," he implored, straightening his clothes.

His gaze dropped to the wooden panels, watching the tiny white droplets of shame that trickled from her body and his breath thickened. He waited not for her response. Turning on his heels, he escaped the room as if it was his conscious he was trying to leave behind.

Love destroys the honest of men, and this murderous woman had ruined him completely.

Credits: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes.

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

[poledancingdinos]

Henry Cavill | The Witcher | Interview 😍

[poledancingdinos]

ETS Snippets and Stuff in one place

Hand on the throat

Pretty Woman

What If Sy Confronted Cole

Lake Trip

Period

Sy likes Y/N

Car crash 1

[poledancingdinos]

Superman desperately scanning the street during a fight to find the most morally acceptable car to throw at his opponent, knowing that not everybody has insurance, and loss of transportation can ruin a life -

A wave of incredible relief washes over him as he spots the hard geometric lines and silver paintless sheen of a Cybertruck.

[poledancingdinos]

Good morning!

Who could use a lil PWP with this guy?

You hear a ping and panic. “The door”, you squeal, trying to squirm around Will and get to the lift’s console. 

“Don’t worry”, he pants, crowding you into the corner and turning you to face the wall. “It’s a private elevator. I told you when we went over amenities on the plane, remember?” You relax slightly, letting him slide your skirt higher up your thighs.

“Wait -”, you say. “You said the suite comes with assigned staff. What if -” your concern melts to pleasure as Will nips at your ear.

“They only come when called”, he assures you, before growling in appreciation at your lack of underwear. “We’re alone.” You feel him press against you, just him. No khaki shorts, no boxers; just his long, thick heat searching like a dowsing rod for your rapidly dampening core. Will crouches, wrapping your thigh in his large hand. He both spreads your legs and half-lifts you, fitting himself where he’s been aching to be since you got off the plane.

The two of you groan in unison while he presses home in one long stroke. You reach behind you to grab his ass, holding him still. It’s the first sex in a month, since you each had conferences and client trips keeping you apart. It’s not that his girth is too much. It’s more the missing him and anticipation of the reunion disappearing in an instant. You want to savor this part. You lay your head against Will’s chest and breathe deeply, trying to quell a moan. 

Will’s hands slide up your torso, settling around your breasts. He cups them, feeling the weight, then tweaks your nipples. He likes the jolt it gives you, especially when he’s inside because you clench so tight. You think he’s about to start moving, but he finds your pearl instead. He presses down firmly, massages it slowly. He leans down, putting his ear as close to your mouth as he can. He wants to hear your breath hitch when he lights up that bundle of nerves: he drags his nails along the hood, just enough to make it hurt. It’s when you start moving.

This man knows your body, and it would annoy you if he abused that power. He would never. He loves to hear what he does to you; he loves the way he reacts to it. He loves when you take over. Like right now, you push backward, plant your feet firmly on the floor and rock hard against him. He senses you want it quick and dirty, so he meets your rhythm forcefully. “You sure”, he checks. “I won’t be able to stop in a second.”

“Good”, you croak. “You started it.” He huffs in mock indignance and grips your hips with both hands, widening his stance to pound you to completion. You can feel the moment he loses control: his hands tighten on you and his cock swells within you. “Yes”, you whine, legs starting to shake. You hope your knees don’t give out.

“I got you, baby”, Will moans, as if reading your mind. He bends over you, wrapping one arm around your waist to brace you. “You feel good.” His pelvis beats a staccato rhythm against you and you tighten around him, driving him harder.

“Oh, my god”, you groan. “I’m gonna come…”

“Twice”, Will breathes, feeling for your clit again. 

“Wha -”, you start, then lose the thought to the storm of sensations blowing through you. It’s like he can time your orgasms or something. You come apart, trying to keep your balance. Just when you’re sure you won’t, Will pulls out and flips you around. Before you can breathe, he’s back inside you and you’re against the wall. He reaches behind you and gentles a finger into your rosebud. You melt. Again. “Goddammit, Will”, you breathe, wiggling yourself down onto his cock and finger.

Will smirks, the devilish one that got you to agree to drinks almost five years ago. You know there’s a triumphant chuckle coming and you don’t want to give in that easily. You kiss him, then lick a trail down his neck, only to bite hard when he expects a hickey. Will whimpers, leaning heavily into you, grinding deep inside. And you thought you had the upper hand…

“Oh, shit… Holy sh- baby”, you sigh, giving in to the shudders rolling up your spine, mewling and quivering, milking him throughout. At some point, you’re not sure when in the haze of your pleasure, you hear Will’s hand slap against the wall of the elevator. He grunts, head dropping to your shoulder, and fills you up. He wraps his arms around you, crumpling to the floor, just as the doors open.

“Can you -”, he points at the console. You disengage and push the button to lock the elevator. “Thank you.” When you turn around, he’s still on the floor, catching his breath. Not quite hard, but definitely not softening.

“You’re not tired, are you, babe”, you tease. Will looks up at you, watches you slink over him, to kneel between his legs. “I want more…” You run your hands up his thighs, leaning down toward him.

“Winded, right this second”, he admits. “But if you finish me off here, I’m sleeping in this elevator, just so you know.” You laugh lustily, as you take him in your mouth. “Ooooh”, he groans, as you wrap your tongue around him. “Just get me a pillow before you leave me here.” You wink and bob your head to agree. “And a blanket - fuck, I might die. Never mind.”

Tags: @beck07990 @kebabgirl67 @sillyrabbit81 @eldarwen333 @identity2212 @peachyvulpixie @nuggsmum @angryschnauzer @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @captainsy-cookiemonster @ellethespaceunicorn @gearhead66 @est1887 @mollymal @mrsevans90

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts of it and claiming it as your own or feeding it to AI*

[poledancingdinos]

when you get an idea for a fic but you know you’re going to have to really take your time with it in order to properly capture all the little details and plot points and themes you want to convey, but also you’re an impatient bitch who wants to write out and read that fun story in your head right fuckin’ now

[poledancingdinos]

[poledancingdinos]

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Homecoming The List The Dentist You're My Home Boop! Red Velvet My Hero The Lunch Those Thighs Though 🔥

INSTALOVE?

[poledancingdinos]

Late at night, exhausted to his bones, werewolf au Geralt drives his beat up truck on a dark, empty road through a forest, dangerously close to the scent marks of another pack's territory. He checks his mirror, sees Eskel's truck right behind him, sees Lambert asleep on the passenger seat, just like Vesemir who is sleeping next to Geralt. Ciri is curled up in the back.

All they have and all they need stuffed into two cars. On the road for months. Driving from one motel to another, looking for a place to call their own again. Geralt is reaching his limit. He needs a break. In the distance he sees the flickering sign of a 24/7 roadside diner. Geralt signals for Eskel to stop and together.

Quietly they divvy up the money between them. Eskel stays with their sleeping family and Geralt heads into the diner. The pack's scent is strong inside and for a moment he hesitates. But the hunger and need for coffee are stronger than the fear of running into other werewolves.

The diner is mostly empty. Two truckers are sharing a booth in the far back. One has fallen asleep next to his coffee, the other also doesn't look much more awake.

A woman in her mid thirties is sitting at the counter, flipping through magazines with a distant look in her eyes. Someone is singing in the kitchen. Geralt leans against the counter, eyes drifting over the menu on the wall, silently calculating how much money they'll have left after this. Maybe if he only takes a small coffee for himself....

A young man comes out of the kitchen, apron tied around his hips, plate in hand, happily singing along to whatever song is playing on the radio. Geralt's eyes widen as he smells the familiar scent of werewolf alpha.

He walked straight into the pack leader.

[poledancingdinos]

Do what pleases you while you can.

[poledancingdinos]

Geralt 💙

explicit

[poledancingdinos]

Can we stop for a moment to imagine Eskel carrying lil Bleater up to Kaer Morhen

Tucked into the front of his jacket so only the head sticks out

[poledancingdinos]

[poledancingdinos]

playing with a new brush means choosing an old man of the week to draw with his tits out