#my brain is on auto-pilot most of the time

[pandoa]

i'm gonna need these bots to screw tf off because the amount of times i've almost reported and blocked a new follower thinking they were bots (when in actuality they were not) is just sad-

i have to physically check to see if someone is a real blog now this is not okay 💀

[bereft-of-frogs]

…

[havensins]

ahhh ! I’m so glad your asks are back <33 hope you’re not being stressed out by too much!

perv!peter finding a piece of your clothing, he’s hesitating to follow his filthy thoughts but when he takes a ‘small’ sniff of the clothing he can’t help but bring a hand under his pants and touch himself <3 you can decided what happens when he gets caught 🤭🤭

-🕸️ anon

perv!peter who really doesn’t mean to snoop or invade… he’d swung into your room to look for you, actually. and after he didn’t find you, he just decided to sit on your bed and wait for you.

and as he looks around, he notices your clothes. he chews on his lip as he reaches a hand out to pick up the piece of clothing. it turns out to be a pair of your boxers and as if his brain was moving on auto pilot, he brings your underwear to his nose and he’s immediately flooded with your scent.

he feels himself get hard in his spidey suit, and once he pulls his nose away, his face is flushed and his erection is practically throbbing in its confines.

chasing the feeling of your scent flooding his senses, he brings your underwear to his nose again. his other hand twitches again and he doesn’t think twice before reaching down and palming himself.

he whimpers, grinding against his hand and moaning out into the fabric. with how taboo it is, it doesn’t take long for his cock twitch in sensitivity. his eyes are rolling and closing and he groans, inhaling your sent the most he could before he whines and feels himself cum in his suit.

“so this is what you do when i’m not here to greet you, parker?”

your voice sounds from the doorway of your room and peter’s eyes shoot open. you take in the sight of your underwear held against his nose and his hand only slightly covering the darkened red patch in his suit.

peter blushes, from his ears to his neck. he looks completely embarrassed, and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he attempts to stutter out an excuse.

with a small grin stretched across your face, you step further in the room and close the door behind you. “it’s… i didn’t- im sorry,” peter finishes lamely, letting go of your underwear.

“do it again,” you tell him, moving to take a seat at your desk and face him as he’s sitting on your bed. “i want to watch you cum from my scent alone one more time,” you murmur and he looks shy.

“what are you waiting for, peter? you did it in my absence, i wanna watch you do it again..” you tell him and he nods. shakily, he takes a hold of your underwear again and inhales.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door. 

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?” 

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?” 

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—? 

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”  

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.” 

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.” 

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s— 

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip. 

Steve sags in relief. 

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too. 

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure. 

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water. 

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!” 

You know who’s not cool? 

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button. 

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down. 

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[hotwritergf]

I have a habbit of messing up peoples names, ive called my mom my brothers name. Sometimes ill start with someone elses name and correct myself like sara-mily or i get it early so its just the first letter like saying ch-steve

I was just thinking about bestfriends eddie x reader where reader accidentally calls eddie daddy because theyre so similar. She goes to say a d name but catches herself and says eddie. She was talking fast and didnt even catch herself saying it until eddies like "did you just call me daddy?"

Accidentally calling Eddie ‘Daddy’. Eddie Munson x female reader. Blurb. Fluff.

I hope this is okay, I’m sick at the moment so it’s kinda self indulgent but I tried to personalise it a bit for you!

The night was like any other of yours and Eddie’s movie nights. Bags of candy spilled out on the floor, blankets swallowing you both up and a blunt being passed between you. Today was tiring, work couldn’t be more stressful and of course you were understaffed. Eddie came to pick you up at closing time, he already had your cup of tea in his cup-holder. It was the small things you appreciated the most from your best friend.

You had your head on his chest, because Eddie said “it will help your migraine I promise.” You wanted to believe him but the smirk on his face just showed he wanted to look after you. Eddie held his palm to your forehead, “you’re burning up a little, I’ll get you some medicine. Wait right here.” He ushers himself out from the blankets and into the kitchen. Rooting through the cupboards as you pause the movie, he reappears holding a bottle and a medicine spoon. Pouring the contents onto the spoon, “open up darling” he smirks as he feeds you.

You wince at the taste of the bitter medicine, swiftly taking a swig of your soda to wash away the taste. Wiping your mouth you whisper, “thank you d-daddy” “e-Eddie I meant Eddie!!” Your face flushes immediately, wanting the ground to swallow you up as you blurt out your sentence. Your brain was on auto pilot and Eddie and Daddy sounded far too similar for your mouth to comprehend whilst you’re suffering so bad with your migraine.

“What was that? Did you just call me daddy?” Eddie smirks, teasing you as he pulls your hands away from your blushing face.

“I- no! The words got scrambled in my head m’sorry I’m so embarrassed, I’m sorry.” You pull away from Eddie’s touch, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your head on them. Terrified that you’ve ruined your friendship, how could Eddie not see you differently after calling him that? A word so not-inherently bad but turned kinky and shameful, he could assume you’re into that. Not that it would be a bad thing to be kinky, you just weren’t.

“Hey hey hey.” Eddie pulls at your arms, “just look at me.” His voice is like velvet, so comforting but you’re shaking. Wishing you could be ignorant and never face this issue. “Come on princess, just want to see you smile.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

You stick to your guns, refusing to move and face him. “You leave me no choice then, I didn’t want to do this sweetheart. But you asked for this..” Eddie coos into your ear before teasing his fingers over your neck, ghosting over your skin and down to your sides. He pokes and prods your ribs, flailing back into Eddie’s chest, trying to swat at his hands to put an end to his ticklish assault.

“Okay! Okay!” You plead, holding on to Eddie’s wrists and looking deep into his eyes. He stills his hands, holding yours and dropping them into his lap. “I didn’t mean to say it Eddie, honestly.” Your voice stuttering as you whimpered. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously, I understand. You do that a lot with words, I’ve seen it. You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.” A mischievous smile spreads over his face when he sees you let go of the breath you’ve been holding for the entire moment. Sighing, you let yourself smile, feeling safe knowing that Eddie doesn’t judge you.

“There’s that smile. Gotta hear that laugh too, you know, for daddy?” He teases before jumping on top of you and tickling you again.

[emeritusemeritus]

Ughhh i cant stop thinking about soft soft sex with Fred after a long, tiring day. Just turning your brain to mush and then pampering you and holding you close... ♡

Hi Anon! My dear, this is on my mind near constantly too so here we go! My own personal HC that after the war Fred would grow his hair longer again, kind of like James in real life so I snook that in 🖤

Warnings: smut, graphic smut, soft sex, piv, fingering. Tooth rotting smut- is that a thing? Fluff, use of petnames, kind of a smutty comfort fic?

Word count: 891

You feel like Home.

You hadn't had a bad day necessarily, just a long day. You felt you were going through the motions, entirely on auto pilot, counting down the minutes until you'd be back home. Both you and Fred had the day off together tomorrow and there was no better feeling. All day you'd held on to the hope of a nice dinner, preferably one that you didn't have to cook, putting your comfiest clothes on and mindlessly watching muggle Tv whilst you cuddle up to Fred or even better, completely naked and cuddled up to Fred in a very different way.

When he first slips inside of you, a blissful sigh of relief escapes your lips. Your hands stroke down his naked. muscular back, legs locked tightly around his waist as his hips lazily drive into you, stroking deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“Fuck, you feel like home baby,” Fred whispers into your ear as he thrusts into you, burying his cock deep and staying there for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.

“Always so tight,” he whispers, as if he’s talking to himself. You reach up and pull back the few strands of hair that have fallen into his face, making him look at you as he lifts his head. You share a sweet, meaningful smile as you look at each other before he leans down on bulging arms to kiss you. It’s passionate and loving but lazy with no rush to it, as if he’s savouring the moment just as you are. When he draws back his hips and thrusts into you again you can’t hold back the moan that escapes you. It’s quiet and subdued, muffled into his shoulder but so powerful, like a secret shared between you.

His pace is slow and steady with perfectly angled thrusts, taking his time to make it blissful for both of you. Your hips meet his, rolling in time with his thrusting and each time he seems to get deeper with every stroke.

“Roll on your side sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls out of you and moves to spoon you on your big, soft bed. He kisses your neck and shoulder as he settles behind you, free hand wandering across your breasts as he rests his weight on his other arm. His hand trails down your skin, purposely dancing around that spot on your waist that tickles the most and he chuckles as he watches you squirm. His big hands part your legs and begin toying with your clit, spreading around your wetness and reigniting that fire in your lower belly. He pulls away and grabs hold of his cock as you lift up your leg, allowing him to slip back inside of you. It isn’t your favourite position, usually reserved for lazy mornings when you’re both still half asleep but still need each other, but right now you’re enjoying the intimacy of it.

“Fred,” you sigh out in bliss as his pace quickens, your hand rising up to grab your breasts as his fingers slip back to your clit and circle the little nub perfectly. You turn your head to the side and he captured your lips with his almost instantly, each of you sensing the increasing intensity as his hips thrust harder and quicker.

“Want you to cum sweetheart, want to feel that perfect little pussy squeezing me,” he says in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your body as his fingers speed up just slightly on your sensitive nub.

“Fred, Fred,” you breathily chant, chasing your building orgasm as you move your hips to Fuck yourself back on his cock.

“Will you let me cum inside you baby?” He says, beginning to pound into your harder just like he knows you need.

“Fred, cum inside me!” You cry out, reaching your peak under his skilled fingers and perfect cock. Your pleading is enough to hurl him right over the edge with you and he grabs your hips with astronomical force as he pulls you down onto him one last time, sinking deep inside as he spills his load inside.

You’re both breathless and sporting with matching smiles on your face as you come down from your highs. He pulls you in for another kiss as he slips out of you, smirking against your lips as he hears you gasp. His hand comes up to rest on your breast as he pulls you into his body, his flaccid cock resting against the curve of your bum as he holds you in his arms.

“I love you, so much,” he says quietly and you smile, reaching up to entwine your fingers with his where you can reach.

“Love you more Fred Weasley,” you say slightly dreamily, still amazed that you get to say those words even after being together for so long.

After a few minutes of bathing in the post-sex glow, you hear Fred’s breathing steadying and know that he’s undoubtedly fallen asleep. It’s too late for a nap and too early for bed but you don’t care, cuddling down into the muscular plains of his chest where your head fits perfectly under his chin. Dinner can wait, chances are you’ll just order in anyway and so you let yourself drift off in Fred’s arms, the day forgotten.

[futurepastme]

God save... the president!?

Reincarnation au

Of all places Merlin thought he would find Arthur once he came back, a random American airport was not on the list.

Merlin was running. Not only had his alarm failed to wake him up on time, but he somehow also managed to enter the airport through the ‘arrivals’ instead of the ‘departures.’ So now Merlin ran, willing his flight to wait for him.

He dashed through the groups of people like a madman clutching his briefcase tightly, thanking whatever deities that were still out there for blessing him with the smart decision to only pack a carry-on. If he still had to go through check-in, he would 100% miss his flight.

Merlin kept his unplanned cardio exercise at a fast but steady pace until his eyes landed on a flight monitor. He stopped dead on his track, looking for his flight number, when he felt the sudden shock of a body colliding with him.

“Holy…! Do you not look where you're going?”

Merlin almost ignored the annoyed voice in favour of his fleeting chance of going home, but something – destiny, probably, as it often were – made him turn around to face the rude man that had almost toppled him over.

“Won't you say anything? Do you even know how much this shirt cost?”

Arthur Pendragon glared angrily at him. It took Merlin a while to move his gaze from the familiar face and fully take in the scene. Arthur held his blazer jacket open away from his shirt that was now drenched in something that looked suspiciously like coffee.

“Well then? Are you an idiot or something?”

The familiar insult seemed to rewire Merlin's brain and he found himself automatically responding with a shrug. “Takes one to know one.”

“What?” The blond looked back at him with a frown.

“Besides,” Merlin continued, “you're the one who bumped into me, so you don't get to be a rude asshole over your own mistake.”

“Rude…? My own…?” Merlin's disrespectful attitude seemed to throw him off, leaving him a confused mess. He let go of his blazer and recomposed himself. “Do you know who you're talking to?”

Merlin felt the wave of familiarity rushing through him, it seemed that some things never changed.

“Of course I know,” he felt a little smirk growing as Arthur's expression went back to bad concealed confusion. “I'm talking to a royal prat.”

Merlin was delighted, he could feel the waves of irritation and indignation that seemed to irradiate from Arthur and they made him want to giggle.

“Who do you think you are to…”

“Martin.” Merlin interrupted.

“Wha…”

“Martin Emerson.” He interrupted again, and offered his hand.

Arthur looked at his hand for a few seconds as if it were some kind of criminal offense that it existed, and then looked back at Merlin like he was some lunatic.

“You don't have any idea who I am, do you, Martin Emerson?”

Merlin smiled like it was Christmas as Arthur stared at him.

“I already told you that I do.” Merlin smiled sweetly. “You are the condescending jerk who almost killed me and then tried to blame me for it. Me! The victim of the crime!”

“Killed…” Arthur looked astonished, but the frown of irritation never left his face. “You know what? I don't have time for this. Get out of my way.”

Arthur pushed through Merlin nearly causing his fall. Again. “Who do you think you are? The president?”

“No, I'm his son, Arthur.” Arthur answered without looking back.

Merlin watched as Arthur walked away, leaving him gaping at the back of his head as Arthur went on his way like he hadn't just turned Merlin's world upside down with a five minute interaction.

“Last call for the flight G4014 to London.”

The metallic voice from the speakers shook Merlin out of his daze and his body auto-piloted him back to his mad dash through the airport.

It was only once he was safely sitting on his seat at the economic class – he had barely made it – ready to go home, that the full realization of what had happened dawned on him. Arthur was back, he was a complete prat again, and the most shocking news of all: Arthur Pendragon, the legendary King of Camelot, was American.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Ensemble Cast

pairing: Platonic! Task Force 141 (+ Alejandro & Rodolfo) x GN! Reader

words: 660

Summary: Hours into a stakeout, your boredom leads you to ask the everyone the classic hypothetical question, “If they were to make a movie about us, what actor would you want to play you?”

warnings: Lots of fluff and dialogue, found family trope, mentions of injuries, and an implication of angst.

a/n: MW2 is the ultimate found family story, change my mind.

Running your fingers along the edge of the map, your watch caught your eye. 5:14am, the bold digital numerals taunted. you pushed back from the table and made your way across the small room. You quickly scanned for an open spot to sit before finding one along the wall. Settling in with the group, you fought the urge to sigh. Stakeouts, while typically easy work, were never something you particularly enjoyed. A welcome break from the firefight you had been active in the past few weeks, yes, but nonetheless almost entirely boring.

You had been with them for what felt like forever and had long considered the group more like a band of brothers than a task force. Yet even the closest groups of people are bound to experience a lapse in conversation when stuck in a room together for hours on end. Unsurprisingly, a hush had fallen over most of the group more than a few hours ago. Like Ghost, you were more than comfortable with a bit of silence. But as the ninth hour of the stakeout came to a close, you couldn’t help but ignore your growing itch for conversation.

“If they were to make a movie about us, what actor would you want to play you?”

The question escaped you almost absentmindedly. The result of your brain slipping into semi-auto pilot. The words simultaneously cut Soap’s quiet one-sided ramblings short and introduced a bit of spirit and levity to everyone. You felt the room fall into a moment of quiet consideration, as the men began using the same war strategist intensity that was hard wired into their brains to figure out what Hollywood star they felt was most like themselves. Hypotheticals were a more than welcome break from going over the intel for the umpteenth time, or worse, being forced to listen to the vocalization of whatever popped into Soap’s mind.

With a groan, Captain price shifted his position in the stiff plastic chair he occupied. Trading his relaxed posture for sitting at attention in anticipation of everyone’s answer. A few moments passed before he spoke up. “Easy. Hugh Grant.” He started before taking a dramatic drag from his cigar. “A classic British gentleman after my own heart.”. Even through the darkness, you could see the playful glint in his eye. Price’s answer earned a range of amusement from the group and a full-bodied laugh from soap. “I’d want either James Mcavoy or… that guy from Game of Thrones.” Soap grinned. “Jon Snow!” Gaz snorted. “For me..” He started ”I know he’s not an actor, but I’ve been mistaken for Lewis Hamilton once or twice before, so probably him. What about you, Alejandro?” “I’d play myself. Why hire an actor when you can have the real thing?” Alejandro chimed in. “¿Y usted?” Alejandro said, elbowing Rodolfo. “No estoy seguro… ¿Maybe Mario Lopez?” “¡Vaya! Looks like Rudy’s feeling confident!” Alejandro chuckled, earning a smile and a slightly bashful look from Rudy. “What about you, LT?” Simon simply shrugged. Clearly not impressed by the current conversation. “Well. we could always dress up one of those twelve foot skeleton decorations and have you do the voiceover.” Soap snickered.

A moment passed before everyone, Simon included, burst into laughter.

Seeing everyone fall apart to such a dumb joke left you giggling right along with them, almost unable to contain yourself.

For years you found it strange how much joy you felt in moments like this—sitting in a dark and musty shack, laughing and cracking jokes alongside your rag tag group of soldiers. Yet you couldn't ignore how these moments brought up a near forgotten sensation; a syrupy sweetness in your chest. A feeling synonymous with those of love and what it meant to finally belong somewhere. The feeling of finally finding a family. Because what is a family, if not a cast of characters - often beaten, more than a little broken, and almost always bloody - who still choose to form glimmers of light in a world of dark?

[bookdragon6127]

Some hazbin hotel thoughts and theories because I still have brain rot. These might just be the sleep deprivation but they’re stuck in my brain:

1. Alastor is bound to Lilith or eve right and the deal is to dethrone Lucifer and get Charlie in power (because she's the most naïve) which is pointed to by Alastor's lines in the song with the cannibals

1.5 Lilith betraying Lucifer and Charlie is going to be *gut wrenching* both because of Charle loving and looking up to her mother and then Lucifer being turned on by the woman he fell with

2. Alastor's power is restrained because he sold his soul to one of the above and part of the deal was that he couldn't be a heavy hitter because then he wouldn't have been able to gain Charlie's trust when the time came. Hence why he had to disappear. It's also so he didn't just destroy the entire hotel/have collateral damage

3. Alastor is going to force Lucifer into making a deal holding Charlie as leverage and that is how he gets out of his deal- both/either fulfilling his end of the bargain or it's just more powerful and overrides it essentially

4. Lilith/Eve will be the main big bad and Charlie will have a mental breakdown because this woman she idolized really is evil. Lucifer is just a depressed lil guy but Lilith/Eve saw being banished to hell as a way to get power but she's a smart mfer She's playing the long game

5. The series will end with Charlie as an Angel but still serving hell. Idk it's a hunch

5.5. Maybe they’ll explore more of Charlie being half angel especially after seeing her full power and all the fun tricks she can do. How cute would it be with Lucifer to teach Charlie

6. Vox looked up to Alastor when he was a baby overlord and once he got power, he tried to go to Alastor because he was his idol but Alastor pulls his "do I know you"shit (iconic)

7. We’re going to either meet god in season two which will lead to tensions with Lucifer obviously or find out there is no god and the system in place is running on auto pilot

8. Emily will either fall or overpower sera/take over to help Charlie and redoing heaven’s whole system and that’s why/when Charlie ends up an Angel

9. Alastor was referring to Eve when he told Adam “you should know better than anyone what can happen when a soul takes charge of their fate”

10. Lucifer cannot defend sinners as part of the whole extermination thing but once Charlie was actually attacked he was able to intervene (because she is hellborn and they aren’t part of the extermination)

11. Lilith’s deal with Adam is driving me crazy and I’m so curious what it is but my thought is that it’s as simple as she would stop rallying the sinners but she wanted to stay in heaven for it (which maybe meant she got to learn more about it so then she can influence Charlie as her almost figure head on the throne OR when she takes the throne herself)

[milfs69420]

You Belong With Me - Part 1

Natasha ran from her home country when she was 18, and has since been working at a stripclub in NYC. One night she spots a woman who seems all too familiar and turns out to be her childhood lover. While getting to know each other all over again, they discover new truths and old lies.

- Natasha Romanoff x Katya Petrova - Wordcount: 3K - Warnings: none I think - A/N: Sooooo, I wrote a fanfic about a fanfic. This stripclub AU idea has been floating around for a while, but I finally managed to get a part done. Thank you @katyaromanoffpetrova for letting me borrow your babies🫶 I hope I did them justice. If you're curious about who Katya is, check out the forgotten ghost series here!

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

The bright light above the mirror casts its hideous yellow hue down on Natasha’s face. She could hardly tell the shades of her various lipsticks apart in this setting. Some days she hardly bothered with her makeup, the dark circles around her eyes were far too visible for any concealer to hide. Today though, something told her to put in some extra effort. Who, or what, was telling her, she didn’t know. Very few things harnessed the power to make Natasha Romanoff listen, but she would never go against her intuition.

The redhead stepped out of the dressing room and into the dimly lit hallway. After sitting under that bright light for so long she had to squint her eyes to see where she was going. She hardly needed the ability to see here at all. Natasha had walked this very path so many times that she was doing it on auto-pilot by now. She knew every crease in the dirty, stained carpet. She knew exactly where to place her heel adorned feet as she made her way to the stage area.

Natasha liked dancing, loved it even. As a little girl in Russia she had danced nearly every single day. Even the extremely strict ballet teacher hadn’t been able to break her and her passion for letting the rhythm guide her body. Of course, this wasn’t the type of dancing career she had imagined for herself while growing up, but it’s what paid her bills and kept her alive.

Moving, or rather, running away to another country when she had just turned eighteen hadn’t been easy, and it certainly hadn’t been cheap. So when she met Clint, her best friend and one of the bartenders at the club, she took the opportunity she was offered and started working there as one of the dancers. Originally it had been a temporary solution, just to get her on her feet in this new life. However, she quickly realised these people were much more than just coworkers, they’d become her found family before she even realised it.

So here she was, in her high heels and the skimpy bits of fabric you could hardly call clothing. She heard the music start and let her body take over from her brain, as she made her way to the centre of the stage, complete with pole and all, she took a quick and subtle look at the crowd. At first glance it was the same as every other night, young guys who’d just gotten their paycheques, middle aged men who most likely told their wives they’re working late, and the same old men smoking cigars and eyeing her up.

But as she was about to shut her brain off and let her limbs move themselves, she spotted a woman. All alone and mysterious in the darkest corner of the club, with what looked like a martini in her hand. Thanks to the darkness, Natasha couldn’t make out any clear features. All she could see was dark hair, seemingly brown but she wasn’t certain. And all that she felt was an overwhelming amount of familiarity, like she hadn’t only seen this woman before, but like she knew her. Natasha could not see the woman’s eyes in the darkness, but she knew they were focused on her.

Whether she meant to or not, Natasha’s dance was focused on this woman now. If she looked into the crowd at all, she looked at her. She put some extra effort and seductiveness into her movements, and she enjoyed doing it. Dancing for men whose attention she hardly wanted in the first place was just a job, and not one she was always happy to do. But this woman brought out her true passion for dancing, motivated her to truly let the rhythm guide her and just enjoy the moment.

When the redhead finished her dance, she left the stage almost immediately and made her way towards that dark corner. The crowd didn’t let her through nearly as fast as she wanted, and she was disappointed to find the seat empty when she finally got there. If this had been any random person, Natasha would’ve assumed they got flustered by just being in the club and ran. However, something told her that wasn’t the case here. Her mood now having been ruined by not even catching a glimpse of the woman, she didn’t feel the need to stick around.

She went to the backstage area, walked that barely lit hallway again until she reached the door to the stairs. She was one of three people living above the club. Her, Clint and Maria each had their own spaces and enough privacy to not be bothered by each other, they did however share a kitchen together. The rent was incredibly cheap due to their employment and it was a nice spot in the city as well. Unbeknownst to their boss, Fury, Natasha had a dark haired, four legged roommate upstairs.

She found Liho in the street when she was still a kitten. She was looking about as miserable and hopeless as the redhead was feeling at the time, so the only logical option was obviously to take her home. Part of Natasha had been afraid that the cat would abandon her over time, but Liho seemed better than the humans who’d let the woman down time and time again.

That night, sleep did not come easy to Natasha. She overanalysed everything she saw, or didn’t see of the mysterious woman. For some unknown reason, she was a hundred percent sure that she knew this person. When or how they met, she didn’t know, but she was certain that they had.

………

Every night that she was on stage, Natasha looked at that corner, hoping to see the person who’d been keeping her up for weeks now. She’d almost lost hope that she would see her again at all, until today. As the redhead went through her entry routine on stage, she spotted that mystery person in the corner. Before she could stop it, the slightest smirk appeared on her face.

You see, Natasha had spent her sleepless nights coming up with a plan to prevent this woman from escaping again before she could truly see her. So she made her way to the front of the stage, which had stairs connected to it, and she went into the audience. Now obviously she couldn’t just walk straight to the corner, so as she moved through the various seating arrangements, she stopped a few times. She danced at some tables and gave some extra attention to men who seemed well off enough to throw her some extra dollar bills, until she finally approached that corner.

The lighting in the club focused on Natasha, and therefore started lighting up this usually dark area. As she moved closer, the redhead could see the woman more clearly by the second. The first thing that got her attention wasn’t the clothing that she was wearing, but rather the skin left exposed by it. Tattoos that Natasha couldn’t make out quite clear enough yet, decorated smooth skin as far as she could see. She found herself imagining how many more of those she could find underneath the black slacks and white dress shirt combination. The black blazer had been hung over the chair, and her white sleeves had been rolled up. As her eyes made their way upwards, she didn’t fail to notice the amount of buttons that had been undone on the shirt, before finally getting a look at the woman’s face

Brown, shoulder length hair surrounded what may just be the most gorgeous face she’d seen in a long time, if not her whole life. Piercing blue eyes had locked onto her green ones as soon as she’d left the stage, and hadn’t looked away since. Now, Natasha was by no means shy or introverted, but she found a surprising amount of difficulty just to hold eye contact. The woman however, seemed to radiate nothing but confidence.

Where most, if not all, men would be eyeing her up like a piece of meat by now, she found what seemed an awful lot like admiration in the brunette’s eyes. She was definitely staring at Natasha, but in an oddly respectful manner. There wasn’t just lust in her eyes, she seemed enticed by the way the redhead moved her body. The way this woman was looking at her made Natasha feel good. It made her feel sexy in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it filled her with newfound confidence.

Since the brunette was situated in a single chair and not in one of the booths they had in the club, Natasha took the opportunity to circle around her before settling in front of the chair. As the redhead moved her body to the music, the woman uncrossed and opened up her legs in a swift, but elegant, movement. Natasha took this as an invite to get closer, and as she did so she bent over just enough for her mouth to end up near this woman’s ear.

“Are you planning on running away again, darling?”

As she moved back to stand up straight again, she held eye contact with the brunette and found a smirk adorning that mesmerising face. Natasha could’ve, and had, imagined many different responses to her question. She’d thought about it far more than she should have probably. However, what came out of the woman’s mouth was far from anything she had expected.

“I think I’ll stay this time, I’ve missed seeing your face, Natalia.”

Shock and confusion overtook the redhead, and it was a good thing her performance time had ended at this moment. The spotlight went out as she made one last gesture to the crowd before turning around to face the woman again, what she found was that same smirk still on her face. Now though, Natasha didn’t think about how attractive that face was, she only focused on how the hell this person knew a name she had left behind all those years ago.

“How do you know that?” Was the first of many questions she wanted to ask, but for now it was the most important one. She recognised the features of the brunette’s face, but had a feeling that the time they knew each other was far in the past. What was starting to get to her though, was the smugness all over the face opposite of her. She seemed to know nothing about the person in front of her, who seemed to know a whole lot about Natasha.

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” The brunette started to get on her nerves now, Natasha wasn’t in the mood for any of these games, she wanted answers right now. “Am I supposed to recognise you? You seem to think you’re quite memorable.” At that, the woman smiled, not a smirk, no smug looks, a genuine smile.

“I thought people always remembered their first kiss.”

Now seemed like a great moment for Natasha to sit down in the chair opposite of the brunette, mainly because the shock of this all gave her some difficulty with standing up straight. “Katariina?” She couldn’t find the right words to say, so instead opted for just her name. She hadn’t seen that gorgeous face since they were both teenagers, so it made sense she didn’t recognise her right away, so many years later. Now that she knew though, she couldn’t stop the flood of memories that came over her.

Natasha had moved around Russia far more than she would’ve liked when she was a kid. Her mother had passed away when she was a baby, and her father just left her on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage. Little Natasha was far too rebellious for her own good, and this resulted in being kicked out of foster homes time after time again. The longest she ever lasted was a little over a year, and it wasn’t the family she was staying with that got her through that time. No, it was that beautiful face she found looking back at her now.

“It’s just Katya now actually, but good to know you remember, Natalia.” And remember, she did. She recalled the first time that she saw Katya, her foster parents quickly tugged her the other way and told her not to play with the girl, to never even go near the huge house on the other side of the street. But something about her had already intrigued Natasha, even if she had only seen her for just a second. From that moment on, all that she wanted to do was get to know this girl. As she did so, she found that she craved to be much closer than friends were supposed to be. She wanted to know her in far more intimate ways than society deemed acceptable for them.

“It’s probably my hair. It’s not blonde anymore” Natasha looked at her, took her time to take in this new appearance. “I can see that, the ink wasn’t there either.” Now it was Katya’s turn, to take in her own appearance. Smiling, she looked back at the redhead. “I suppose you, of all people, would’ve known about any ink on my skin.” At that, Natasha couldn’t help but blush. Memories of their secret meet ups filled her head. Some nights had been spent exploring the rural areas around their town, where nobody would find them. Other nights, they explored each other instead.

While they were both enjoying this seemingly light-hearted conversation, Natasha had questions to ask. “So I guess it’s not a coincidence that you found me, is it?” Katya smiled at her now, no longer hiding behind a facade of smugness and false confidence, powerful as she was, she’d been terrified of how the redhead could’ve reacted. “No it’s not, though I’ve got to give you credit where it’s due. You didn’t make it easy to track you down.”

“So how did you manage to find me anyway?” Natasha had changed her whole identity, finding her was supposed to be nearly impossible. “I have my ways.” Is all that the brunette gave her.

“Still being mysterious, I see. Nice to know you didn’t change too much.” She hadn’t meant to let that out as angrily as it did, but this was a lot to handle.

“I couldn’t afford to tell you anything back then, it would’ve put both of our lives at risk, Natalia.”

“And you still can’t tell me now?” For some reason, Natasha didn’t feel the need to correct the brunette when she used her old name. She was sure that Katya knew her new identity anyway, but simply chose not to acknowledge it. Plus, she didn’t mind the way her name sounded, rolling off of her childhood lover’s tongue.

“I could, and I might, but this isn’t the time or place. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?”

“So when and where do I have to be, to get some answers out of you?” Again, Katya smiled at her, and this time Natasha couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked as she did so. It seemed as if that magical charm that had intrigued her when they were teens, was still there all these years later.

“You seem quite eager to spend more time with me milaya(милая).” To hear that term of endearment coming from the brunette, seemed to bring back far more than just memories. Natasha felt as if her stomach did a backflip as soon as the word reached her ears. It shouldn’t be that easy, for Katya to make her feel anything at all after all this time. But neither of them could deny that they had a special connection, one that ran far deeper than just childhood love.

“I’m just eager to know how you found me, and why you wanted to in the first place.”

Katya just looked at her, a more serious expression on her face now. She seemed to be taking in every detail of Natasha’s appearance, studying her so attentively that the redhead started feeling shy under her gaze. Before she realised what was happening, Katya started getting up. She put on her jacket and Natasha would never admit how much she hated seeing all that skin being covered up. Right as the brunette was about to walk away, she turned around one last time.

“Saturday night, nine PM, be ready and wait outside. I’ll have a car pick you up.”

With that, Katya walked towards the exit, leaving Natasha to gather her thoughts as she made her way upstairs. The rest of the night was spent thinking about Katya, and that damn smile of hers. The brunette was the only person she’d met in their home country, who didn’t hurt her. The only person who made her feel like life may not be all that bad when you have someone to share it with. Leaving that town had been one of the most painful things she’d experienced, and she’s been through a lot. Being forced to leave the only person she had truly loved and felt connected to up until then had felt like someone ripped apart her heart. The worst part was that she wasn’t given a reason, her foster parents seemed to have decided overnight not to want her anymore.

She’d since learned to live with all the abandonment she’s had to go through, and she’s worked on becoming a better person ever since she left her home country. While she was well aware that this was much too early to think about having Katya in her life at all, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of getting to know her again.

That night, Natasha went to sleep feeling hopeful. Maybe she would’t end up alone, doing this job, after all.

[please1mistress]

Does the spiral draw you in? Are you sitting comfortably? Yes? Good. Now, I want you to relax... That's it; deeper and deeper. Rest your hands in your lap... Feel your shoulders loosen as your troubles melt away... If you're reading this at work, tune out your noisy co-workers... Now, while staring at the picture below, speak out loud in calm, resolute, and preferably ethereal voice: "I will read this blog post. I will click the "like" button below when I'm finished. I will read this blog post...I will click the "like" button below when I'm finished."

Is it really that simple to hypnotize you? Whether or not you believe in hypnosis, neuroscientists are now showing that the practice does indeed produce measurable effects in the brain. Hypnosis is more of a “natural” state than people imagine. You are experiencing it several times throughout your day and it doesn’t need a swinging watch to put you into a hypnotic sleep! Some people are more receptive to hypnosis than others and can expect to experience rapid changes in a course of hypnotherapy

Answer the following twelve questions in this hypnosis test to see if you and hypnosis are well-suited.

1. When the television is on, can you “switch off” and lose track of what you are watching?

 A. Frequently; “What was the name of that program?”  B. Sometimes  C. Rarely

2. When reading a good book, can you “close off” to any external distractions?

 A. Regularly; “noise, what noise?”  B. Occasionally  C. Never

3. When you go to the cinema or theatre, can you feel emotional when you see something sad?

 A. Frequently; “I’m tearful now!”  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

4. When you close your eyes, how quickly can you fall asleep?

 A. Within 10 minutes (ZZZ…)  B. Within 30 minutes  C. When the alarm goes off!

5. When chatting to a close friend, do you lose track of time?

 A. Nearly always  B. On occasions  C. Can’t stop looking at my watch!

6. When you see someone else yawn, does it become contagious?

 A. Repeatedly, I’m yawning right now!  B. Now and again  C. Rarely

7. Do you salivate when thinking about sucking on or sinking your teeth into a sour, juicy lemon?

 A. Most of the time, “Get me a napkin!”  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

8. When you like a new song, does it keep going round and round in your mind at the most inconvenient moments?

 A. Regularly, “La-la-la…”  B. Occasionally  C. Not very often

9. If you close your eyes, can you visualise a journey from your house to the nearest shop?

 A. Images are clear & detailed  B. Can visualise some details of the journey  C. Vague details; “Is there a shop near me?”

10. Would you (or others) consider you to be a creative person?

 A. Yes, I use my creative skills nearly every day  B. Sometimes  C. Rarely

11. When you drive to a familiar place e.g. work, does your mind switch to auto-pilot?

 A. Nearly every day  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

12. If you see a crowd of people looking at something, do you tend to look in the same direction out of curiosity?

 A. Most of the time  B. Some of the time  C. Rarely

if you answer mostly A or B to most of these questions, then chances are, you are a very good hypnotic subject. Hypnotic subjects tend to have: creativity, focus, curiosity, imagination, suggestibility. The fact you are reading this tells me that deep down you want to be hypnotized. You desire that feeling of dropping and sinking for a strong and powerful hypnotist like myself. It can be as easy as me telling you that you've been hypnotized from the start of this blog, and your minds open to my words deeper each time you read my blog. Now, be sure to re-post this and draw others to me. Good boy or girl.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

After hours

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Librarian!reader

Summary: Geralt has finally handed in the paper you helped him research for weeks... Now what to do about all that tension between you two?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, standing missionary, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), I think that's it?

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Alright! Roughly 4 months ago, I promised my dearest @deandoesthingstome a round with her Crescent Street fave (at the time, sorta). It has finally arrived! I hope you enjoy it 🥰

For those interested in the timeline: This takes place before he ever goes on his semester abroad, meaning that at this current time, he hasn't met Sol yet.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @livisss @brattymum96 @kingliam2019

“Thanks for all your help the past few weeks.” You’d been hoping he’d show up all day, and now that the library was about five minutes away from closing, here he was. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be able to hear your heart furiously beating in your chest. It’s a good thing that wasn’t possible. Right? 

“You’re more than welcome, Geralt,” you answered. For some reason you were avoiding his eyes. “Got that term paper done?”

“Handed it in a few minutes ago,” he said as he put a stack of books on the counter with a deep sigh. His voice drove you nuts, it had been doing so for weeks, haunting you until long after you had gone home - oftentimes deeper into the night than you cared to admit. 

“You don’t sound too confident?” No, but you did? Where was that coming from? You had expected yourself to crumble in the presence of this… long-haired hunk? Fine specimen? God? All of the above? 

“I’m sure it will be fine.” His smile surprised you the most. “If I’m being honest I’m mostly sad I… don’t get to work on it any more.” Your eyes moved to his as if by magic, because your brain still screamed at you to avoid them at all costs. And it was right to warn you, because as soon as you saw their beautiful color, you were lost. Every shred of the tension you’d spent weeks convincing yourself was a figment of your imagination, rushed back, and now there was so much of it you could almost see it in the air.

“Can I help you put these back?” Geralt said after you had signed his books back in, and you nodded in reply to his question, knowing full well the shelf they came from was all the way in the back of the library. You knew you’d been the only one in here for well over an hour now, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

“Let me get the door,” you said, before almost rushing to it and locking it quickly. You could swear you heard him chuckle under his breath at the way you moved, but you didn’t care.

You both scanned the aisles for people you’d missed, but per your expectations, the whole library was empty. It was just the two of you now. The walk to the mythology section of the building felt way too long, and you were definitely walking faster than you were used to, but you weren’t complaining - and neither was Geralt. You somehow found the time to start second guessing your interpretation of the situation, and had to very consciously remind yourself that putting four books back on a shelf was hardly a two-man job. And you were right about that; returning those books took maybe a minute, and when you were done putting the last one back, Geralt pulled you off the step you were standing on and looked at you. 

Once again, all the tension that had built up over the past few weeks came flooding back to you as you stared into his eyes. Your gaze only strayed from his long enough to notice the way the muscles of his jaw moved beneath his stubbled skin as he clenched his teeth. His hands felt warm and heavy as they rested on your hips, and your arms seemed to auto-pilot their way up until your lower arms were against his. Touching his biceps was a mistake - alright, not a mistake, but you were definitely shocked by the amount of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the dark sweater he was wearing. Geralt licked his lips as you let your hands travel up his arms to his shoulders, and when you reached them, he pulled you in. There was no going back now. 

He kissed you hard and in a way you’d almost describe as merciless, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Every move he made revealed a tiny bit more of the immense strength you had already suspected he possessed. Something told you that you’d be getting more proof of that - maybe even more than you bargained for, but you couldn’t care less. When you felt the warmth of his tongue against your lips, you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and let him in. He tasted of God knows what, but it was good, and the way he kissed you made your head spin and your knees weaken to the point where you weren’t exactly sure how you were still on your feet. Probably, you realized when you analyzed the situation a bit more carefully, because he was holding you up. Now that you were pulled against his body, his hands had moved away from your hips, and one of his arms now wrapped around your waist while the other pushed between your shoulder blades, crushing you into his chest. One thing you were very sure about was that you were not going to complain about any of this. 

You were glad to see that this had an effect on him, too. His heavy breathing matched your own and you felt his pulse drum against your fingers erratically when you laid a hand against his neck. Most of all, you were surprised that he was hard already, which made you feel a little bit less embarrassed about the slick mess you were absolutely sure you’d find between your legs. 

For weeks, you’d thought about asking him to join you for coffee after spending hours on the research for his paper together, or straight up asking him to take you home, even, but what was happening now bested even your dirtiest fantasies. Geralt still wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t exactly patient, either, and it wasn’t long before the hand he kept between your shoulders moved to your side, where it carefully began to creep up  over your clothes. Its destination was clear. You weren’t born yesterday, and he was a man; he obviously wasn’t interested in the feel of the fabric of your sweater. It was almost odd how he didn’t just immediately slip his hand underneath it…

To your disappointment, he broke the kiss, but luckily it was only to regain his ability to speak. 

“This is a lovely sweater, but it’s in my way.” You had been wrong: he did actually go on to comment on the softness of your sweater. That didn’t take away the fact that the way he cocked his eyebrow at you was a silent way of asking for your permission to take the thing off - which you gladly gave him. After a few short seconds, it was on the floor. Much to your own surprise, you told Geralt to just send your bra the same way immediately, while you frantically pulled at the hem of his sweater. After all, you needed to level the playing field a bit. The clasp of your bra was no match for his nimble fingers, which made you feel a little sad. Of course that wasn’t a new move to a guy like this - even though his being twenty-one made him a fair bit younger than the guys in your past. You were about to decide to not linger on the feeling, when Geralt made you forget about it altogether by kissing along your jaw to your ear. He moaned in it softly - a deep, gravelly sound that made you lose whatever little sanity you still possessed - and murmured a soft ‘fuck’ before moving away from you to take off some of his own clothes. 

It took everything you had to keep your mouth from falling open - and you were only about forty percent convinced you were actually successful. You’d always thought you had been more than generous in your wildly inappropriate dreams, but absolutely nothing on the planet gave this guy the right to be this fucking ripped. Despite probably managing to keep your mouth closed, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, and you battled the strange urge to lick every inch of his body; your hands would have to do. Your fingers trailed softly over his shoulders and chest, and you bit your lip as you let them slowly travel down over his abs to the waistband of his trousers. On a whim, you hooked your fingers behind it and pulled him closer to you again. There was a devious smile on his lips when you did, which gave you more courage than you ever thought you had. He let out the most delicious grunt when you softly palmed his erection through his jeans, which was partially lost against your lips when you pulled his face down to yours for another kiss. You resisted the urge to pull your hand back when you realized what this guy was packing. 

Geralt squeezed your ass through your skirt and grunted again - a sound you gladly answered with a moan. He bowed his head and put his lips to your neck, seeking out the spots that made you squirm and whine. After a short while, he pushed you back a few steps until you felt the cold concrete of the wall against your back. You shrieked at the sudden coolness against your skin, involuntarily arching your back and pressing your chest into his. Geralt laughed softly before resolutely pushing you back against the wall, lowering his head again to continue his quest further down your chest. You gasped when the warmth of his breath brushed past your sensitive nipples. The touch of his tongue made you lean into him again as he drew circles around the pebbled skin. His hands made their way to the hem of your skirt, pulling it up until he could comfortably reach between your legs. His fingers ran over the fabric of your underwear, and you shivered when Geralt deliberately circled your clit with slow, lazy movements. 

He raised his head again, leaving your nipples exposed to the merciless cold air of the room, and looked straight in your eyes when he pulled your panties to the side and dragged a finger through your slick folds. He wet his lips, and you heard a soft growl rumble in his chest every time he exhaled. It was torture, the way he kept teasing you until you were begging him to give you what you wanted, but somehow, the glacial pace with which he pushed a finger into you was so much worse. 

"Fuck, you're killing me," you growled. 

"Tell me what you want, then." God, his smile was amazing. You almost forgave him for teasing you beyond any reasonable boundaries. 

"I want you to stop teasing me," you replied. 

"You've been teasing me for weeks," he said to your surprise, "don't I get even a little in return?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. He had been the one teasing you for weeks, for crying out loud! He laughed when you suggested that.

"I don't think I care who started it," he growled into your ear as he finally pushed two fingers inside you and curled them in search of the perfect spot. Of course he found it in no time, and you were a squirming, shaking, whimpering mess in his arms within seconds. 

He kissed you again. It was rough, like before - and an excellent way to keep you quiet as his fingers continued to pump into you unrelentingly. Your nails dug into the muscle of his shoulder so fiercely you were sure it hurt him, but he didn’t look bothered by it at all. Every moan that escaped you seemed to inspire him to keep going until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“That’s it.” You clearly heard the excruciating smugness in his voice as he pulled you over the edge. Leaning against the wall wasn’t enough to keep your knees from buckling, but Geralt seemed to have no problem holding you up while he rested his forehead against yours. After a while, your legs were once again able to carry your weight, and you stood a little straighter as you once again ran your hands over the ridiculously muscular torso in front of you, not stopping until you reached the waistband of his jeans, which you swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped. As soon as you wrapped your fingers around his cock, Geralt moaned loudly, your mouth swallowing the sound up as you pressed your lips to his again. The kiss could hardly distract you from the thoughts that raced through your mind as your hand greedily explored what mother nature had blessed him with, and you couldn’t stifle a moan. 

Your fingertips didn’t touch. That sentence ran tireless circles through your mind as you gently, experimentally, moved your hand, attempting to draw a reaction from the man in front of you. Your fingertips didn’t touch, but instead of contemplating the probability that this was never in a million years going to fit, you let out a continuous stream of moans as you touched him. If the past few weeks had taught you anything, it was that you didn’t care whether this would be easy or not. You needed him. 

The sounds that spilled from Geralt’s throat were like music to your ears, ranging from dark, guttural growling to equally dark and guttural moans. He took the liberty of pushing his pants down to give you easier access, which finally inspired you to set aside your doubts and get on your knees. 

Geralt inhaled sharply when your tongue darted out to meet the tip of his cock, and you found yourself almost giddy with excitement. There was just something about making a man this size crumble beneath your touch, and from your current perspective, everything about him seemed even more massive than when you’d been standing up. You smiled as you listened to the noises Geralt made as you circled your tongue around his head. That smile widened when those sounds grew more impatient with every passing second, until he placed a hesitant hand on the back of your head, gently urging you to stop teasing him. 

There was no way you could take all of him into your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind. Men this generously endowed were probably used to that particular misfortune. Curiosity ultimately got the better of you, and you steadily moved further down his shaft until you reached your limit. At first, the hand Geralt kept on your head didn’t move at all, until there came a point at which he seemed to have confidently learned the extent of your capabilities. He was still gentle, applying only the slightest amount of pressure, never forcing you further down than you could handle. The occasional moan escaped you, the vibrations of which caused Geralt to groan, and his cock to twitch slightly in your mouth. 

It had been a while since you had been able to lose yourself so completely in a blowjob, and although you had no way of knowing how much time you spent on your knees, it must have been a rather long time. When Geralt pulled on your hair slightly - and more firmly after gaining some confirmation that you weren’t opposed to that kind of thing - and your almost trance-like state was broken and you were faced with reality again, the first thing you noticed was the excruciating sensation in your knees. You chuckled when the memory of one of your friends fought itself to the forefront of your mind. In your own days at the university, she had publicly - loudly, too - declared the library ‘carpet burn central’, and your knees were now living proof of her assessment. 

A large hand wrapped around your arm as Geralt pulled you off the ground rather unceremoniously, and pushed you back against the wall, kissing you fiercely. 

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath as he fumbled with something. The options regarding the source of the crinkling sound you heard - especially considering the context of the situation - were limited. Truth be told: anything other than a condom at this stage would have sorely disappointed you. Luckily, your educated guess was dead-on. 

“Need some help with that?” you taunted, not considering whether potentially antagonizing Geralt was a smart thing to do - it probably wasn’t. He huffed impatiently, breaking your kiss and looking at you with a lifted brow. There was something resembling amusement in those gorgeous amber eyes, and nothing of the annoyance that you had heard in his voice. 

“Got it,” he said, the smallest grin appearing on his lips. 

Without warning, he captured your body between his and the wall, pulling one of your legs up to his hip. It was not yet enough for him to comfortably move. While shaking his head slightly, a smirk on his lips, he lifted your other leg as well. The suddenness of your feet leaving solid ground made you shriek, and you wrapped your arms around Geralt’s neck. One thing was certain: there was absolutely no reason to doubt his strength. In fact, you wished furiously that you had chosen a less limiting and maybe more conventional position and location than the ones you currently found yourself in. Positions and locations with more possibilities for Geralt to show you what he was really capable of. At the very least, that location would contain something to tone down the sound of the screams you were sure he would pull from you.

As your thoughts raced through your mind about what could, would, should or might be, Geralt entered you slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust to the size of his cock. Much to your surprise, things went smoother than you had expected. The first thrusts came slowly, and were too gentle to really match the raunchiness of the position - or place - you were in. 

That didn’t last long. 

Whether it was his idea, inspired by your sloppily muttered ‘I can take it’, or a combination of both, you didn’t know - and quite frankly: you didn’t give a damn. Right now, it was just you and Geralt, and the way your arms were wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist, as you held on for dear life while each thrust came harder, faster and deeper than the one before. It was fantastic. Something about the way he moved had you hiding your face in his neck in a hopeless attempt to hide your screams. You squirmed in his arms as your hands closed into tight fists around locks of his white hair - which he didn’t even seem to notice. 

Geralt was an unholy combination of strength and stamina: rough, untamed, and seemingly always on the brink of losing control. For a moment, you were consumed by a single drop of sweat that traveled down his forehead, headed for the furrowed brow that sat over a pained expression. That tortured look gave you an idea of the sheer amount of restraint he needed right now to not topple over into the abyss of his own feelings, and chase nothing but his own pleasure. He’d hurt you. You were as sure of that, as you were of your suspicion that you wouldn’t mind so much as one microscopic little bit if he did hurt you. Never before had you surrendered so completely to a man, and if you had to be honest: never before had any of them earned your submission like Geralt did. 

He lasted way past the point where you should probably have asked him to slow down, then past the point where you wondered if you genuinely wanted him to slow down, and finally another while past the very moment any discomfort warped itself into pleasure again. That familiar, throbbing ache begged for attention - yours or otherwise - as Geralt slowed his brutal rhythm. A sigh of relief escaped you, not because it wasn’t good before, but because this was a pace at which your mind could keep up with the continuous, overwhelming flood of sensations. Geralt urged you to loosen your arms, which were still wrapped tightly around his neck. He held your hips tightly as he stepped back a tiny bit, giving you space to reach between your bodies and focus some attention where you needed it most. 

Geralt thrust into you with a steady rhythm while your fingers drew tight circles around your clit. Your breath caught in your throat as you came closer and closer to your orgasm with each thrust, each touch. When you finally exploded around him, a hint of a smile cut through the grim expression on Geralt’s face. His harsh features softened as his previously unrelenting rhythm finally faltered and made way for the uncontrolled and passionate thrusts that announced his nearing release. His fingers dug into your hips, and the growls that fell from his lips bordered on the feral. When he came, those growls largely died against your lips as he swept you into yet another breathtaking kiss. A hiss escaped you when his sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip and bit down painfully. 

When he finally - maybe after slightly more time than he should have allowed - slipped out of you and put you down again, you had to brace yourself against the wall in order to stay on your feet. This guy was genuinely every bit as amazing as you’d imagined he’d be - and then some. Or rather: he had been. As you gathered your discarded clothes off the floor and put them back on, scrambling to make yourself at least somewhat presentable again, you realized that this was it. It was over. The one thing you had spent weeks looking forward to, was now something of the past. Suddenly, a wave of something you couldn’t quite place washed over you. Not regret, no, you’d recognize regret. Even the where and how of this encounter couldn’t hold a candle to your worst drunken mistakes - the ones you actually did regret. There was absolutely nothing to regret about something this amazing, except maybe the fact that it was over. 

As you questioned why part of you was questioning your unquestionable life choices, you vaguely took note of Geralt sneaking off to the bathroom. Of course, your initial fear was that he would sneak off altogether, but you remembered the only entrance to the library was locked, and you were the only person present with a key. Your suspicion was confirmed when Geralt returned to you a bit later. 

The two of you found yourselves in a very interesting situation. If the morning after a one night stand was awkward, the moment after a wicked semi-public quickie in the library was at least twice as uncomfortable, and then some. You didn’t speak as you locked up and left the floor you were on, and while you walked, at least a hundred scenarios crossed your mind that did nothing to settle your nerves about saying your goodbyes. Whatever you conjured up in your brain was also useless in preparing you for the one thing that actually did happen. 

“Come back to my place,” Geralt said as you stepped outside. No matter how hard you tried, you were ultimately unsuccessful in keeping your eyes from going wide as you heard his words. Something about it wasn’t a question, which turned out to be enough to bring back the thrumming between your legs and weaken your knees. “I’m not done with you yet.”

[daintev]

Sanders? you alright?

Getting into your own head aren't ya buddy?

Something I've noticed in the past couple of pages in chapter 4, Sanders has been tapped out, like he's on auto pilot and not really speaking all that much.

He's gotten caught up in doubts and what those pair of old folks said to them. While it doesn't really get to Jock (due to growing tough skin from dealing with shitty people a lot of his life, discussion for another time though) It really gets to Sanders, he's started going non-verbal and shutting down, maybe even dissociating. This isn't much of a surprise considering how we've seen him deal with situations and emotions like this, when he starts losing a sense of control over himself and his situation he'll start distracting himself. The entirety of chapter 3 we see him do this, focusing on some random wedding to distract himself and attempt to gain some sort of control to avoid dealing with a scary situation.

So, we've seen his struggle with confronting difficult feelings or practically any negative emotion. But thanks to that thing called character development he's getting better! but, not quiet there yet. While he's no longer attempting to avoid the situation all-together he's still struggling to deal with and talk about these negative feelings. He's swayed by his emotions, leads with his heart and such. So, he doesn't think things through on a logical ground as Jock would. I've said it before: they bring out the best of each other.

But when being an emotional person he feels everything very strongly, so, when it comes to any form of negative emotion he really feels it. He's started spiraling and as a way of coping his brain has shut down and gone on auto pilot mode.

It sort of reminded me something I do, I'll be staring at nothing and letting my mind just wonder. Of course, when I'm feeling/or something makes me upset it's amplified and becomes less-so relaxing and more-so spiraling as my mind wonders to bad places. I think that's what's happening with Sanders here, to put it simply: he's freaking the fuck out. And he doesn't know how to deal with it, his brain shuts down, most likely as a defense mechanism.

Eventually, he'll get there. Both Jock and Sanders are learning from one another and constantly improving, growing and changing. I'm just interested to see how it'll play out.

[le-trash-prince]

This Love Doesn’t Have Long Beans Episode 7 Thoughts

Oab not even gonna comment on Kluer trying to kiss Plawan he’s just gonna get his man out of there

THE DRAMATIC FALL OF THE WHALE PLUSHIE SFJFJDD

I’ve said it before but I do not like Kluer. Too much Nice Guy TM energy for me. Just bc ppl smile and tell you all the things you want to hear does not mean they are good to be around

DID OAB JUST PULL HIS BACK SHFJF IM CHOKING

Plawan being upset about Khaosuay but still trying to be understanding towards Oab :(

Did Plawan get this muscle metaphor from JJ i bet he got this metaphor from JJ

Oh no they’re actually getting together before Plawan tells Oab about Methas OH THIS IS GONNA HURT

Plawan’s convenient odinsleep when Kluer tries to confess… me tbh

“Do you think Kluer will be really hurt?” *cuts to Kluer sobbing his heart out* don’t worry he’s a trooper i think he’ll be fine

I think this is my fave OabPlawan love scene so far, it’s so well choreographed and the framing is great… that pants drop was fantastic. Too bad it’s such a short scene

Methas’ fucking pouty face when he’s asking JJ to hold his hand

Ooooh JJ’s trying to draw a line, he’s caught feelings

HE CAN’T MEET METHAS EYES HE���S CAUGHT FEELINGS

oh my GOD THANK YOU DIRECTOR CINEMATOGRAPHER AND EDITING TEAM FOR THAT BEAUTIFUL SHOT OF METHAS HAND ON JJ’S ARM

You got a butt cramp Methas?? REALLY???

AHDJFJDJDJFJDJJFF

JJ ALMOST GAVE IN TO THE KISS ARGHDNFNFNF i knew it was gonna happen it was literally in the pilot but im HRRGGHDFBNFBG

LIES DOWN

IM FINE

Butterfly pea flower tea!!! Plawan’s presentation is so fucking cute

Punsib you were too good for all the hormones in this kitchen

Kluer this ain’t it man… just let it go son

NUB NUENG DON’T TELL OAB THAT EVERYTHING IS GOING WELL you curse his house

Pad croquette??? I want…

“I never cry when you teach me” alexa play Teach Me Tonight by Dinah Washington 

It’s the way they started making out downstairs when Kluer is still living there and he’s the only one left… Kluer buddy if I were you I would just quit at this point it’s not gonna be a good time for you

KLUER JUST STANDING THERE WHILE THIS FIGHT HAPPENS SHFJFJF 

DID METHAS REALLY JUST SHOW UP TO TALK SHIT LAUGH IN OAB’S FACE AND LEAVE SHFJFJFJF someone get this man a moustache to twirl PLEASE

he’s got teleporting powers now too damn 

METHAS’ SMILE WHEN HE’S ALL DRESSED UP ON THE CLINIC TABLE WHAT A SMUG LITTLE SHITTY CAT LMFAO

Even though I don’t care for Kluer, I don’t blame him if he snaps tbh. The most absurd part of this competition is making your right hand man jump through all these hoops to prove himself over complete strangers. Like if Kluer had the money in the first place, Chef could’ve just sold him the restaurant and none of this drama would’ve gone down

Laughing my ass off at the long beans reveal no one ever reacted this dramatically to a dish with yardlong beans in it before

AUTO RETURNS NEXT WEEK MY SON!!!

Gonna be so sad when this is over tho, they better be starting on Pit Babe 2 soon before my brain eats itself alive

[ramblingzombpossum]

I keep going back to something from therapy today. During morning check in we have to write how we're feeling, it's literally "What is your mood today?" and today, I just didn't know. I was flipping from one mood to another so fast that I couldn't wrap my mind around one emotion or mood.

When I wrote "I don't know" I expected a bit of push back, someone to tell me that's not acceptable, there is no way I can't know. We all know how we feel right?

Well, instead the therapist smiled and said "That's ok." They know I have schizophrenia, and apparently I've lived with it all my life. When I apologized she insisted I didn't have a reason to, it's ok to not know how you feel.

One of the points my one on one therapist is hammering home, is when I say "I don't know" people are going to be confused. People who aren't schizophrenic DO NOT understand. I grew up with it, I've learned to adapt and hide it.

Hallucinations are weird? Ok, I'm not going to talk about it, or I may draw attention I don't want. Hearing things isn't normal? Alright, we chalk that up to 'keep to yourself and hide.' Oh, the random moments of "Lol I could just die" or "Man I could sleep and never wake up" aren't necessarily normal? Cool, that will not be spoken about. (That last one is common in a lot of things, but it's thoughts I can remember having as young as sixish.)

But the phrase "I don't know" has always been demonized to me.

"Why did you do that?" "I don't know" "NO you absolultely know why, so why did you do that?!" It was a rather common reaction, from everyone. For years, because in most people's minds, they know.

Before I got medicated, I didn't realize how bad it was, how I would sit there, and just not know what I was doing. I'd have moments of full unawareness, and I still do at times. I dissociate, something I never knew what it meant until I was forced to acknowledge it. I go off into my own world and completely disconnect from life, going on basically auto pilot.

Sometimes I'll do something, and I will have a reason, but after doing it, I have no idea WHY. My brain doesn't work right, it never has, and I learned the easiest way to avoid it, was withdrawing. I could just not talk, I could just live in my mind and be fine. As an adult this doesn't work, it makes life harder, it makes everything harder. I literally sit at home sometimes and just lose time. I've become obsessed with time checking, to make sure I wasn't off in my mind for hours.

Even now I have an aversion to "I don't know" even if it's the truth. I find myself scrambling for a believable lie because "I don't know" is unacceptable, it is very much a sin. No one has a brain so broken that they don't know.

But I do, I don't know why I do a lot of things. I don't know why I say things sometimes, or why my brain jumps to something completely out of left field.

Someone asked me to describe my thought process on something, and it went a little like... A needs to happen for B to happen, but if C occurs then A will be ruined, and B can't happen, so obviously I need to do Y, D, F, G, and L before anything else to make sure that A can happen.

None of it makes sense, none of it comes together, but my brain is so loud and jumbled, even with anti-psychotics I have auditory and visual hallucinations. Not as bad as it once was, but it happens. I can hear voices as if someone is standing over my shoulder, telling me just to stop. Give up. Let my body crumble, and cease existence. No one will ever care, no one will miss me.

I know this isn't true, I fight against it daily.

Sometimes I turn around in my house while I'm alone and think someone is standing in the kitchen. Nothing solid, a shadowing form in the vague shape of a person that catches me off guard, but I've learned not to show my fear. How can I react to things when others don't see them? That's weird, and society says we should never be weird. How does one explain when they want to just hunker down, grasp their head and scream to drown out the voices? How does one explain what it's like to be plagued with things, delusions of being immortal, delusions of everyone hating you. The idea that in this life you'd be more of a contribution as a memory than a living being. The paranoia of what everyone wants. The paranoia of not knowing what is and isn't actually happening. The Paranoia that you're going to say the wrong thing, and wind up hospitalized because 'you're not normal.'

There is nothing fun about this, there is nothing easy. I've been fighting a silent battle for who knows how long, and a lot of people say I'm strong for being open. I'm not being strong, I'm being weak, because I'm tired. I'm so very tired, and I don't want to be strong anymore. I want to lay down, I want to have a day where I'm not constantly shifting through my thoughts, where I'm not trying to decide if the person next to me is talking to me, or if its one of the voices trying to tear me down. I don't want to be convinced that everyone is out to get me, that everyone will leave, everyone is just using me in some way.

I'm just tired, I'm tired and I don't know what I feel. I keep going because I want Bean to know it's ok. I want her to never worry about asking for help. I want her to realize, sometimes we all have battles we don't share, and that's ok, but it's also ok to ask for help.

In the end, I'm tired, confused, and I will never be able to answer everything, unless I'm allowed to be honest and say "I don't know."

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

No drug can give me clarity

(I need you here)

(past MuSan drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Summary: Sometimes, Haruchiyo forgets his not wearing a mask anymore (Sometimes, Haruchiyo forgets he killed his captain).

Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Hurt/No Comfort. Drug use (is Bonten timeline, what did you expected?) It was inspired by this tweet, so it hurts. A lot. I'm sorry.

Also, I took the title from the song "Scary Love" by The Neighbourhood ( @just-sp-in-inginthevoid showed me how this song screams Toman MuSan and obv I just had to make it hurt, ooops)

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

The night looks equally forgettable as most of Sanzu’s nights. Is not even a special occasion for him, to be this out of his mind. He barely remembers arriving at his penthouse drunk and tired, a big headache from having to listen to Takeomi for hours.

Sanzu growls, feeling annoyance with the memory of that bastard. Standing up a little a bit, he snorts two more lines of ketamine, immediately feeling his body relaxing.  He rolls up on the carpet again, pressing his cheek against the soft fabric and relishing in the sensation. His conscious is floating, exactly what he wanted.

To stop thinking, stop remembering. Not having all this overflowing memories rotting his brain all the damn time.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he tries to reach for a cigarette, only to discover is the last one.

“Fucking bullshit...”

Sanzu curses, slurring his words. Lighting up the last one, he starts moving, grabbing the things he need for a quick trip to the closest store. His body is acting in auto-pilot, checking he has everything he needs: keys, money, gun, mask. But the mask is not in his pocket like it should be.

“Where the fuck is my mask?”

He starts looking around, going through the mess of things scattered on the living room. He feels dizzy, but the uneasiness in the back of his mind keeps him grounded. Or grounded enough, since he stumbles against the sofa, losing his balance for a few seconds.

For a fleeting moment, a part of Haruchiyo expects to feel a pair of strong arms lifting him up in a gentle way, helping him to stand up.

“Captain?”

He whispers weakly, trying to focus his vision. But nothing happens, no one is there.

Suddenly, reality comes crashing down. The weight of his own actions, the choices he took in the past, drowning him.

Sanzu collapses on the floor again, hugging his knees, curled up like he used to do when he was little.

There is no more mask. No more captain.

(In nights like this, Haruchiyo would be willing to hide himself if it meant having the only person who ever cared about him by his side again)