#whatever buttons he's pressing up there they are releasing dopamine

[averysmolkirbo]

So uh despite what you would think i'm not really a kirby-based blog but like i dont know what it is but im like on a huge kirby hyperfixation right now. like i just like him. i just think he's neat.

also i just need everyone to look at magolor for a second.

ok.

have you looked at him? cool.

i just. I dont know. he has invaded my brain like a little virus.

[flourgirl]

When We First Met

Part I of “The Unbelievers” series

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You’re the new intern at Stark Industries and you’ve made it your mission to figure out just how Peter Parker became Mr. Stark’s favorite.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: A slow burn with a few curse words thrown around.

A/N: This fic helped drag me out of my writer’s block, so I really hope you guys like it! Happy reading <3

“Have you been talking for a million years? Did I go deaf because you're burnin' my ears? Spare the details, it's unnecessary I got places to be and people to see” -It’s Not All About You, Lawrence

The first time you met Peter Parker, he was actually tolerable. It was your first day at Stark Industries, and you had just gotten your job assignment as Pepper’s assistant’s assistant. In other words, you were about to spend your days making coffee runs and changing out ink cartridges. 

“Hey, uh, do you need some help?” he had asked as you struggled to carry two boxes of printer paper all the way to the copy room on the other side of the building.

“Yeah, for sure,” you huffed, not being able to see who your savior was over the stack of boxes. When he took both of the boxes out of your arms, you were met with his dopey grin and wavy, brown hair.

He’s cute, you thought. But all you dared to say was, “Thank you so much. I felt like I was about to die.”

The two of you shared a laugh at your dramatics before you continued walking.

“No problem. I was headed this way, anyway,” he replied nonchalantly. You caught yourself staring at how light he made the boxes seem. He must’ve been a lot stronger than his baggy, oversized sweatshirt made him look. “Are you new? I’ve never seen you around before.” 

Peter had to slow his pace down a lot to let you catch up to him. He wasn’t used to taking casual strolls around the office, always having to run over to wherever Mr. Stark was at a moment’s notice.

“It’s my first day, actually,” you admitted, offering him a weak smile. You weren’t much of a conversationalist, especially not when it came to cute guys who looked that good in sweatshirts with dorky math jokes printed across the front of them. “Are you an intern, too?”

“Yeah! I’ve been working here since I was fifteen,” he told you, leaning against the doorway of the copy room. “But I don’t do anything too important. Mostly just fly under the radar and do what Mr. Stark tells me to.”

Your eyes widened. “Whoa, you work directly with Mr. Stark? You must be one important guy.”

Peter blushed, not knowing how to backtrack out of the hole he had just dug for himself. “Uh, not really. We’re not like friends or anything. It’s just, Mr. Stark knows about all of my science fair projects and—”

“You aren’t making yourself sound any less impressive,” you interrupted, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at him as he set the boxes down on the counter. “So, Einstein, who are you?”

“Parker. Peter. Shit, sorry, it’s Peter Parker. I have to go now. Bye!” he blurted out, running from the room before you could even tell him your name.

A girl who looked about your age slipped into the copy room, startling you out of your confused state. “Were you just talking to Peter Parker?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” you questioned, hoping she’d have some sort of explanation for why he acted the way he did.

“He’s basically Mr. Stark’s surrogate child,” she said, sipping one of the many coffees that she was carrying. “I’m Grace, by the way.”

“Y/N. What do you mean by ‘surrogate child?’”

“It’s like, everywhere Mr. Stark goes, so does Peter. That thing with you and him was basically the first time any of us had ever seen him next to a printer, and he’s only talked to a handful of us once or twice. Guess he’s just too busy being the golden boy to associate with the less important interns.”

Of course. The first chance at a cute office romance that you get is squashed by the fact that the guy you like is an antisocial jerk. But that’s not how he seemed to you, so why was his reputation with the other interns so bad?

----------------

It had been one week since you started working, and every day you learned more and more reasons why everyone hated Peter Parker. He didn’t make coffee runs and nobody had seen him at an intern meeting in the last year. And yet, somehow, he was the CEO’s favorite. It was annoying, to say the least.

You actually hadn’t seen Peter around ever since you had first met, which only helped to confirm the rumors that he’d rather eat lunch alone than be forced to talk to any of you. You hated that even when Grace or anyone else wasn’t dragging Peter through the mud, you were still thinking about his stupidly adorable Queens accent and whatever the hell he could be doing that was so important.

Of course, the next time Peter decided to grace the cafeteria with his presence was when Mr. Stark had just arrived back from a business trip to Germany. Figures that he would take his favorite on the trip of a lifetime. Your bitterness grew as you imagined Peter relaxing in the company’s private jet, but it wasn’t until he held up the elevator that you really started to hate him.

“Hey,” he panted, slipping into the elevator just before the doors closed. Once again, your hands were full, this time with a stack of folders meant for Pepper to look over. “You’re that new girl. Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“You didn’t,” you noted, turning to look away from him in the hopes that he’d get the message. You weren’t interested in giving him the time of day.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed the back of his neck while he waited for the answer that you didn’t plan on giving him.

The awkward silence between the two of you was starting to feel especially long when the worst thing possible happened. Loud creaking noises came from the elevator shaft, shaking the two of you as the cables screeched to a halt.

“You have got to be kidding me!” you groaned, setting the files down to press the emergency call button. You had luckily never actually had to use one of these things, but that also meant that you had no idea how to work it.

“Hi, I’m here with another intern and we’re currently stuck in the elevator on the west wing, between floors four and five. Could you send someone over to get us out, please?” You pleaded into the little phone, bitterness lacing your voice.

“What do you mean it’ll take two hours? What do you expect us to do, sit here and play checkers?” You could feel your face heating up as you panicked over the fact that you were going to be stuck in this metal death trap for a while.

Peter walked over to you, leaning against the wall of the elevator to take over the conversation before your attitude extended the wait to three hours. You begrudgingly handed the phone over to him.

“Hey, could you put Mr. Stark on the line?” You couldn’t hear what the person was saying, but you could guess that it wasn’t very positive.

“Well, tell him it’s Peter and…” He looked at you, mouthing for you to give your name.

“Y/N,” you muttered, continuing to pace back and forth as the tiny box that you two were stuffed in started to feel smaller and smaller with each minute that passed.

“Y/N. Five minutes? Alright, thank you so much, Alice! Have a great day.” You were irritated by his effortless charm with others, despite how awkward you knew him to be.

“Um… thank you.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly.

“Are you okay? You seem a little on edge.”

“I’m fine! I just… really need to get out of here.” You wanted to keep pacing back and forth, but you were too busy hyperventilating to think about moving your legs. Peter watched as your eyes started to water, not sure about what he could do to make you calm down.

He stepped closer towards you, which only made you feel even more anxious than you already were. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

“Y/N,” Peter whispered, wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him in surprise, your eyes probably red and puffy from crying.

“What are you doing?” you sobbed, leaning in closer to him. It was comforting, but you were so embarrassed that you were crying in the arms of a complete stranger.

“Well, uh, I know that hugging someone can release endorphins, more specifically dopamine and serotonin, that calm them down. And it relaxes the muscles, and I know that when babies hear their mom’s heartbeats they feel better, so I just thought—”

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop talking.” You leaned into the hug, taking in the clean smell of his sweater and how warm he was. Little by little, your breathing slowed down.

“Okay,” he agreed, holding you tighter, one of his hands gently stroking your hair in the comfortable silence that had filled the elevator.

You almost forgot about where you were when the elevator jolted upwards, causing you to wriggle out of Peter’s grip and pick your files back up off the ground. When the doors opened, you scrambled out without a word.

----------------

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter began, fiddling with one of the many decorations around Tony’s office. “I… I think that, maybe, I should be doing, you know, more intern-y things around here.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow, looking up from his computer screen. “Let me get this right, kid. You’re asking me to give you random tasks to do around the office?”

“Uh, yes?” Peter answered, unsure if he had just made a big mistake or not. His confidence was dwindling by the second.

“Now, why on earth would I do that? What if we need Spider-Man for a mission, but Peter Parker is too busy getting some jackass down in HR a peppermint mocha latte?”

“Well, I mean… I just… Some of the other interns are getting kind of mad that you don’t make me run errands or come to any of their meetings, and I’m just worried that they’re getting a little bit too suspicious that I’m always with you and—”

“If I say yes, will you please stop rambling?” Tony groaned, returning to finish typing whatever Peter had just interrupted.

“Yes,” Peter squeaked. For once in his life, his inability to stop talking had been beneficial.

“Fine. Here, go sit downstairs and take the staples out of these packets. And then re-staple them.”

Peter immediately perked up again, excited to be someone other than Spider-Man to Tony. “Right away, Mr. Stark. Thank you so much! Bye!” He quickly ran out of the office and downstairs to where he knew some of the interns liked to have their lunch breaks.

“Is that Peter?” you heard Grace ask in between bites of her panini. Your head perked up to see his head tilted down, making only his soft brown curls visible from where you were sitting.

You squinted, wondering what kind of task had him so engrossed, and why he was sitting over here. He never sat here, especially not while you were eating lunch. Carlos, who interned in accounting, glanced over at Peter before taking his seat across from you.

“Parker sure does seem interested in removing staples all of a sudden,” he laughed, unwrapping his tortilla wrap from its aluminum foil. 

You couldn’t believe it. He was just pretending to be doing something. “That’s it? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Before your friends could stop you, you were marching over to Peter’s table, tapping your foot as you waited for him to notice you.

You cleared your throat, finally catching his attention. “Hi, Y/N,” he grinned, looking back down to meticulously bend back the small metal arms of the staple, freeing the sheets of paper from each other.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking out staples.”

“Is this some kind of joke? Some weird way of you proving that Mr. Stark totally doesn’t give you special treatment or something?” Peter got nervous, realizing how quickly you had caught onto his ruse. He needed a way to distract you and fast.

“You, um, you look pretty today,” he told you, not even looking up to meet your cold stare.

A blush started to spread across your cheeks when you realized what he had said. Surely the quick glance he had just given you wasn’t enough for him to actually know what you looked like today.

“Nice try, Parker. You barely even looked at me. Showering me with false compliments isn’t going to stop me from figuring out what the hell you’re actually up to around here.” You countered, satisfied that his plan wasn’t working as well as he wanted it to.

“Didn’t need to look. You’re pretty every day,” Peter replied calmly. He didn’t even realize what he was saying until it had come out of his mouth. It was true. He thought you looked nice every time he saw you, but you didn’t seem to take his compliments very well, and so he never told you.

But you didn’t know that he actually meant it. He’s just messing with you, you reasoned, regaining your composure.

“Whatever,” you huffed. “Just some advice: next time, you should try to come up with something better than taking out the staples of packets that clearly never had any problems in the first place.” 

He peered up to see you turn on your heels and walk back to your friends, who had been carefully watching the two of you this entire time.

“Was that a lovers’ quarrel?” Carlos teased as you sat back down. You rolled your eyes at him, and Grace giggled at your insistence that nothing was going on between you and Peter.

“Yeah, it looked like things were getting a little hot and heavy,” she added.

“Shut up, you guys. We definitely are not lovers,” you assured them, digging back into your grilled cheese.

“Sure. So if there’s nothing going on, then why did Yuri tell me that he saw you guys making out in the elevator on the security cameras?” Carlos asked, making you snap your head at him mid-bite, your eyes widening.

Fucking Yuri. All of those security interns were just nosy and power-hungry, but you’d have to deal with him another time.

“We were not making out! We were just stuck in the elevator and—”

“You guys decided to have a romantic embrace?” Grace questioned, only further exasperating you. “Come on, Y/N, just admit it. You have a crush on Peter.”

“No, I don’t! I wouldn’t date Peter if he were the last guy on the planet,” you yelled, suddenly aware of how loud you had become. 

You looked around the room to see many confused faces staring back at you, including Peter’s, which had a frown on it.

You watched as he collected his stack of papers and walked out of the room, staring so hard at the floor that he almost ran into two women who were walking by.

“Geez, Y/N. We were only joking. It’s okay,” Carlos said, holding back a laugh at your little scene.

“You guys suck,” you huffed, settling down to hopefully enjoy the rest of your lunch break in peace. 

You needed to forget about the way that Peter had looked at you just a minute ago, full of hurt and disappointment. He didn’t actually care, you thought to yourself, even though you weren’t quite sure if that were true.

----------------

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @yourbiggestspiderfan @orangesodafoam @alytavzla

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[badsext]

A Comedy of Errors: Nathan Young x Female Reader

This was a combination of a request from my friend @elliethesuperfruitlover for a story where Klaus and reader are exchanging horny messages all day, then go crazy on each other when they finally see each other. That is combined with an anon request I received for a Nathan fic wherein the reader notices his boner and they have dirty filthy sex with loud moaning, biting, etc. I took some liberties and changed a few things to fit the narrative. I hope you like it 😚 Warning: Smut (of course)!

——————————————————

‘I had a dream about you last night.’ You knew a spicy little text like that would get a reply, even at 9:00 AM. And it was true, you’d had a filthy sex dream about Nathan Young and woke up horny as hell.

You pictured him zipping himself into that orange jumpsuit, then checking his phone and grinning like a jackass with his imagination running wild. He responded immediately, begging for details. But you loved teasing him. You were going to make him work for it, dropping hints and innuendos all day long.

As soon as the probation worker sent him home, Nathan headed for your place. But first a quick stop for something to spice up your evening for less than 20 quid. Double cream, a jar of maraschino cherries, a (stolen) bottle of vodka and ultra thin condoms that claimed to provide a tingling sensation. Nathan was very pleased with himself and optimistic about the evenings events. He became so distracted daydreaming about your naked curves that he ran smack into another pedestrian, sending the contents of his grocery bag toppling onto the sidewalk.

Nathan immediately let out a series of swears until he realized that this human obstacle was a wisp of a woman old enough to be someone’s gran. The impact had knocked her to the ground. He apologized and tried to help her back up, but his clumsy effort only made matters worse. The old broad was mortified. Help!,” she shrieked. “This man is molesting me!”

Nathan panicked, grabbing whatever was on the ground and stuffing it back into his bag so he could get the hell out of there.

After getting on the bus he noticed the cherry juice leaking all over everything in the bag and instead of condoms he had taken the old lady’s rash ointment. He sighed, abandoning the whole sticky mess and cutting his losses. He patted the bottle of vodka still safely tucked into his pocket. ‘Fuck it,’ he thought, sneaking a quick swig, then took a seat by the window.

By this time you knew he had already left the community center, so you sent him some extra motivation.

‘Hurry, I’m so wet!’ 💦

Nathan started to get hard and the fact that he was on public transport made no difference. His lust knew no such limits. ‘On the way’ 🍆

He looked out the window to see what street he was on and it suddenly dawned on him that he was headed in the wrong direction. He had gotten on the wrong bus! How could this get any worse, he thought, signaling the driver to get off at the next stop. He exited the bus like a shot and ran haphazardly across the street, his boner leading the way like a divining rod.

A car smashed into him going about forty miles an hour, enough to snap several of his important vertebra. Nathan heard the loud crunch of metal against bone before hitting the pavement and losing consciousness. Shocked onlookers started to gather and emergency services were called. Nathan expired in a pile of gore and debris just seconds before the ambulance arrived.

The paramedic examining him couldn’t find a pulse, so she administered CPR, but it was no use. He was pronounced dead on the scene. She had already called the coroner, placed a sheet over his body, and began filling out the paperwork when she noticed it. A conspicuous lump forming under the sheet. She dismissed it as nothing but a post mortem involuntary spasm until he sat up and threw off the sheet with a loud gasp. The paramedic stared back at him in shock. Nathan looked down at his erection, then back up to her and winked. “Thanks, love.” He got up and dusted himself off. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get home to my girl, so I can fuck her brains out.” Priorities!

He arrived at your door panting and sweating. “Jesus, Nathan! You look like hell,” you teased, pulling him inside by his shirt. Your mouths converged, tongues fighting for dominance like a couple of territorial moray eels.

He tasted pleasantly of cherries and vodka. You pried your mouth away from his to playfully admonish him. “You’ve been drinking already I see...and why are you so sticky?,” you said, tracing your thumb over his lips and chin.

“I’m gonna make you sticky.” His breathy retort tickled your ear as his hand crept under your t-shirt to play with your nipple. You could feel yourself getting wet at his touch.

“Mmm.” You grabbed his stiff cock through his jeans.

He groaned, peeling your shirt off and eagerly cupping your breasts. “You wouldn’t believe what I went through to get here. A fucking quest!” Then he whipped his shirt off dramatically for emphasis, mussing his curls.

“Ooh. Did you slay a dragon?” You unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops with a snap, dominatrix style.

“No, but I died.”

You learned of Nathan’s immortality soon after meeting him. Following the initial shock you discovered it was a huge turn on. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, gliding your hands down his chest. Nathan cracked a sly smile as you drew closer, kissing and nibbling his neck. You pressed your cheek to his to body to listen to his beating heart. “Was it painful?,” you asked, gazing up into his eyes, deep green pools of chaos.

“Excruciating.”

You looked back at him as if to say ‘no more fucking around.’ You led him back to your room and made him sit on the edge of the bed. You knelt down between his legs. “It looks like you need some T...” You unfastened the button on his jeans...”L” You unzipped them...”C”....You pulled them off along with his boxers. You began stroking his stiff cock gently with your fingertips. Nathan struggled to keep his cool. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch you work. His ragged breath betrayed him as you began to nuzzle him, dragging your lips and nose over his smooth, sensitive flesh. You licked his length and lapped playfully at the little drop of pre-cum at the tip. He whimpered. His eyes shut tight and his hands grasped the sheets.

Nathan let out a helpless moan as you took him into your mouth, bobbing slowly up and down, savoring him. You became lost in the act until you noticed Nathan’s breath change. “If you do that any more I’m gonna come,” he said with desperation in his voice.

You released his cock and raked your fingernails down the length of his thighs before standing up and sliding your panties to the floor. Nathan’s green eyes studied you, hazy with lust. He latched his mouth to your nipples, suckling each one them ravenously as his hand crept between your legs.

“Oh, no,” he said suddenly, his voice muffled between your breasts.

“Oh, no what? What’s wrong?”

“That old lady has our condoms.”

“Nathan, what the fuck are you talking about? I have an IUD....birth control. I got it a month ago.”

“So I get to fuck you raw?....unenCUMbered?” He smiled, and wagged his eyebrows.

You nodded with a giggle at his enthusiasm...”Wait, Nathan, was that a pun? You know that’s grounds for PUNishment.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his excitement.

You climbed on top of him, kissing him roughly, forcing his head into the pillow. Then silk ropes were used to secure his wrists to the bedposts crucifixion style. Nathan flicked his tongue at you defiantly as you straddled his face. “I’m going to teach you a lesson,” you said, lowering your most sensitive flesh onto his open mouth. You gasped at the exquisite feeling of his warm tongue on your clit. You ground your hips against him over and over, the rush of adrenaline filling your head. Using him the way he liked to be used. In this moment he existed only for your pleasure, your insatiable need. Your breath grew heavier, building to a sort of primal growl. Then the sudden pulse of your muscles, echoing the pleasure radiating from your core to every inch of your body.

After coming back to your senses, you realized you were squeezing the poor boy to death with your thighs. When you looked down Nathan was still. His neutral expression started making you nervous. “Nathan? Nathan?! “ You shook him. “Nathan?”

He opened his eyes. “What, love, I was just quietly basking in the afterglow,” he said, innocently fluttering his long eyelashes.

You hit him with the nearest pillow. “Jesus, Nathan I though you were...you know! I thought I might have...”

Nathan laughed. “You thought you smothered me to death with your fanny?”

You were embarrassed, but you had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “You are such a little shit,” you said with your hands covering your face.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway. Now, let me fuck that juicy little fanny before I go mad!” Nathan rolled on top you and searched your eyes for reassurance. Then he lined himself up with your entrance and moaned as he delved into your silky softness for the first time without protection.

You grabbed him by the ass and shoved him in as far as he would go. He started achingly slow, so you bit his chin and raked your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Nathan was always encouraged by a little bit of pain. He drove into you over and over, with vigor and purpose. You felt yourself unraveling once more. Your voice rang out at the peak of orgasm, then mumbled unintelligibly into his neck as you savored the rush of dopamine that flooded your brain. You watched his face contort as he came inside you. Nathan’s body suddenly tensed, then twitched. He made a new sound, vulnerable and uninhibited. He sighed contentedly and it looked like he wanted to say something. Of course you knew exactly what he wanted to say. You almost said it yourself. If he can’t bring himself to say it, here comes a joke, you thought, but Nathan just smiled shyly and laid down beside you. Then his hand crept nervously under the covers to hold yours.

@elliethesuperfruitlover @bubblyani @vinawyatt @chipster-21 @chokemerobert @helena-way07 @moorehollandplz @punknatch @renegadesheehan @dandycandy75 @meowbearspandas29 @taintedrosebud @bi-satanist @gunnerxsenpai @allthingsextrordinary @royhey @bitshy-life @honeymelon22 @gurlimtired @nobodydoodle @anonymouscherry @clownass-hoe @shuckinsquib @that-boi-misfits @klaushollandyoung

[lia-jones]

NSFW One-Shot - Make Up Sex

Note from the author: If the title is not self explanatory enough, this work has graphic depictions of sex.

This is the continuation of the chapter 31 in the Growing Stronger part. This is my first posted SMUT work, challenged by @playheej, who also does some great work! Thanks for the support, beautiful! Here goes nothing. Please hold my hand as I do this.

And if you can spare two minutes of your time, let me know your thoughts. That’s how I learn, and it is major motivation for me.

Here you go. Let’s get dirty.

Victor was used to being the dominant one, calling the shots. Andrea wasn’t known for being too obedient, teasing him to no end, and that actually made things more exciting for him, having to fight to have his way. 

But this was the first time he’s ever seen Andrea so bossy, and that did unspeakable things to him.

She kissed him hungrily, teasing and enticing, determined to have his will given over to her. Victor was in a daze, trying to get a grip on the situation, assuming control if only for a second, but Andrea moved too fast. It was like it was her mission was to drive him insane.

Her hands circled his waist as she kissed him, her butt rubbing against his manhood, deft fingers pulling on his sweater.

“I’m going to need this off.” Her tone was as demanding as it was sensual, and it just made him feel harder.

Victor moved away from the headboard, lifting his arms up so Andrea could remove his clothes. She caressed his upper arms, biting on her lip, eyeing him like he was a delicious meal. Her hips kept rolling on his lap, massaging his hard-on. As Victor tried to bring his arms down to hold her again, she stopped him.

“No.” She softly scolded. “I like them like this.” She pushed him up, putting his hands on the edge of the headboard. “Keep them like that.”

“Admit it, you just like to boss me around.” Victor chuckled.

“On the contrary.” Andrea came close to him, nibbling his lips with her own. “My wish is no other than to serve you.” She planted kisses on his neck, his earlobe, and came down his chest.

“Serve me?” Victor was determined to put up a strong front for her, like she did with him, but he couldn’t avoid the strain on his voice. Her kisses were shooting ripples of energy through his skin, leaving him out of breath.

“Mhm.” She let out a playful chuckle, rubbing her nose against his chest. “I always love this part. Your skin is so soft, your muscles are so hard, and you smell so good. I just love kissing it.” Victor threw his head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of her tongue in the rugged sensitive skin of his nipple.

She kissed and licked, and his throat vibrated low in delight, he always loved that part. Andrea laughed and continued her journey downward, reaching his abdomen, which he involuntarily clenched.

“The best part is still yet to come.” She teased.

He knew what was coming, he knew what she was about to do, this wasn’t a surprising move for him. In his dazed with lust brain, he felt both excited and apprehensive. She lifted her hand, holding the waist of his sweatpants.

“Lift your hips for me, please.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. She removed his sweatpants and briefs in one swift motion, revealing to the world how turned on he was with her.

“Hmmm, so hard already. I must be doing something right.” She gave him a smile before kissing him again. He took that kiss, wanting to leave her breathless. He needed to regain some control, without breaking her rules.

Much to his dismay, this lioness could not be tamed. Andrea broke the kiss the moment Victor was too committed, leaving him wanting more. She teased his belly button, venturing further down. Victor’s breath caught in his throat.

Suddenly, he was laser-focused on the feeling of her warm breath against his balls. She started teasing him with her lips, and then her mouth, her warm tongue sucking his resistance away, pleasure taking over mind. He felt the familiar tightening that came with desire, and later on, release, and held tighter to the headboard to ground himself. Her hand caressed him skillfully along his shaft, her tongue teasing his tip, sending ripples of pleasure through his spine, and for moments Victor was blind. All he could do was feel.

“Andy…” He croaked. “Stop.”

Even with her mouth full, he saw the mischievous smile. She wouldn’t stop.

“I want to come inside you.” This was too much. He wouldn’t be able to control himself.

She stopped briefly to smile at him.

“You are inside me.” 

This was no time for jokes.

“I want you to come too. I want to touch you.” He needed to feel her, he needed to know he could make her squirm too.

She ignored him, resuming her work.

“Please.” He closed his eyes, feeling the tug that came before the explosion, preparing to lose control.

The explosion never came. Andrea let him go a second before, making him whimper in the agony of frustration. He opened his eyes again, his head spinning, only to find her basking in his despair. She was bad, really bad. And oh so good.

“You can touch me.” She conceded. “But you can’t use your hands.”

“What?” Victor couldn’t think, stupefied with desire.

“What do you want to touch?” She talked to him like he was a child, and he hated it. He wanted to screw her brains out as punishment.

“Your tits.” He couldn’t believe he was talking like this, but something primal was turning him into a beast. He refused to be a prey she would play with. He was a lion, and he would feast on her. He tried to grab her, take her already, but she stopped him.

“If you can’t play by the rules, we won’t play at all.” She scolded him. “Do you remember the rules?”

“No hands.” He lowered his head, ashamed to have disobeyed. “Arms up.”

“I want to take good care of you, but you have to let me.” She caressed his hair and he closed his eyes, welcoming her touch. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

She leaned closer to him, lifting her torso slightly so his face reached her chest. With eagerness of a child opening Christmas presents, Victor nudged his nose against her breast, mouthing them desperately, sucking on her nipples. He needed her, and he would take every single piece of her. He heard her breath becoming ragged as he practically ate her, and his erection only grew stronger. He was pleasing her, playing by the rules. But his cock was like embers, he needed to put out the fire, fast. He would go insane if he didn’t.

“I want more.” He begged. “I need more.”

“How much more?” Her hand was on his cock again. He swallowed hard, his brain foggy, trying not to come in her hands.

“All of it.”

“You want to be inside me? To feel me hot and wet around you?” She pressed her drenched labia against his erection and slid it up and down, massaging her clit, but refusing him entrance.

Yes. Yes! Please! Now!

Victor was in no condition to reply, his mind filled with lust, and the painful need to find release. He could only moan and whimper, as he tried hard to keep the little sanity he had left.

He was so rock hard that all Andrea did was shift her position on him slightly, and before he knew it he was sliding inside her, her warmth and her moisture bringing a new range of sensations, making him shiver with pleasure. She held his face between her hands and moved her hips rhythmically, making him slide inside her, and the familiar pre-orgasmic pressure returned.

“Andrea!” That was all he could say to warn her. He couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.

“No!” She gasped. “You will wait! I’m almost there!”

He was lost, he was sure of it. If he didn’t come soon, he would die, his heart would stop, it would be the end of him. But there was another rule now, he couldn’t come before her, and he would follow it. That was how much he loved her. Yet… he had to come. He wanted to come so bad. Andrea needed to come as soon as possible. That was the only solution in his lust drunken brain.

“I need to touch you!” His voice was a mere croak, nothing would work anymore, he was a slave to his need.

“One hand!” She was strained, also losing control, almost there. But not fast enough.

With the last shred of strength he had left, Victor grabbed her ass for stability and thrust hard on her, aiming for the spots he knew would make her peak instantly. And when he felt her clench around him, her mouth on his shoulder to stifle a loud moan, he could almost laugh.

He let himself go completely, letting the pent up energy flow through his body, waves of pleasure coursing from his spine to his cock and to his toes and coming back to his head, blinding him temporarily, making his spasm. He held onto the woman he loved with a vengeance, wanting to bring her to whatever place the orgasm would take him, wanting to devour her, absorb her and keep her forever and the way she made him feel.

Their bodies kept moving in sync until all was released, all was experienced, and there was nothing else but exhaustion, silence and bliss.

Andrea started laughing. Something she would always do when she had a really good orgasm, her mind still high with dopamine.

“Is it me or we are getting really good at this?”

Victor answered with a chuckle, there was no way to describe how happy he felt in that moment. He couldn’t find the words to express how she was true bliss in his life, how she mattered more than everything.

Well, except for those special three words.

“I love you.” He whispered between deep breaths.

“I love you too, handsome.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “The Cuteness Principal”

Hey guys, just wanted to get something small and fun out for this week. It isn’t very long, but I hope it’s funny, and you enjoy it :) 

The Intergalactic Journal of Behavioral Psychology and Neurobiology 

Humanity survives just like any other species. The Biological imperative demands that they continue their species through offspring.  All species have this imperative ,though it is shown in different ways. For the Vrul, a sense of duty and logic evolved to tell them offspring was necessary; for the Rundi, the maturation of offspring is inevitable and not up to them in the first place. However, for humans the issue is a bit tougher to understand, for if you know anything about human offspring you know that they are helpless, loud, smelly, slimy, and generally unpleasant requiring years of parental care before they are capable of taking care of themselves. However, evolution created an ingenious way to not only keep humans from murdering their offspring out of frustration, but to make them WANT offspring. 

This need is known as the “Cuteness Principle”. We don’t completely understand it, but we know that certain physical characteristics cause the release of the pleasure chemical “dopamine” in the human brain.  Generally humans are rather bad dealing with these feelings and can react with perceived aggression, or feigned sadness. The two most common feelings include the desire to squeeze the cute thing or the over-exaggerated “awwwww” noise.

Now, only humans can accurately confirm what is cute, but we generally find things with large eyes, big heads, and small noses will do the trick. Unfortunately humans can also find inanimate objects cute. By utilizing the inverse size to width ratio, you can make an object cute to a human; that is if you make something stubby and fat a human will probably think it’s cute.

Anything that fits under this category is likely to attract human attention and the overwhelming desire to protect or take care of whatever it is.  

“Alright everyone, now remember, the GA reports say the Celzex are a very proud warrior race and have easily offended honor. It is important that we remember to treat them with respect, difference, and maybe a little bit of awe or fear, you know to boost their egos.” Commander Vir said adjusting the captain’s cap atop his head and straightening out his uniform.

In deference to this new, and proud warrior race, they had all donned their most formal garb. The Commander wore his uniform complete with cords, gloves, and ribbons while Sunny had done her ceremonial Drev armor. Krill didn’t wear clothes, so he just came as is. A couple of the marines and a few members of the bridge crew trailed behind that, all dressed to impress.

The Galactic Assembly had sent them ahead of the main envoy to meet with the Celzex under the impression that the two warrior races of humans and Drev would be best equipped to deal with this new race.

Together, they stopped just outside the conference room and made a few last minute adjustments to their uniforms. Most, if not everyone, eyed the door wondering what they would find behind it. Images of six foot tall monsters stuck with spines and mouths lined with glistening teeth. 

Commander Vir took a quick, deep breath, and then pressed the button at the side of the door which slid open with a hydraulic hiss. He stepped forward single eye scanning around the room, and then immediately froze, “Sweet mother of…… aw-” A hand dropped onto his shoulder squeezing painfully to cut him off before he could continue.

Commander Vir turned to look up at Sunny, who had stopped him, his eyes were wrinkled in an imploring expression. Behind him, the other humans were filing into the room only to freeze in their tracks. Together their heads tilted, their shoulders bunched, and, despite having the prudence to keep silent, mouthing long and drawn out awwwws to each other.

Sunny had only ever seen this reaction on a couple of occasions usually involving small animals, and tiny human offspring. 

For the commander’s part, he was able to keep his mouth shut only with some difficulty as he fought back the desire to pick one up and hold it, to squeeze it. It was just…. Too adorable.

The proud warrior race of the Celzex where about two feet tall at most constructed out of a colorful ball of fluff, with comparatively large feet and tiny toes. On its torso, which also acted as it’s head, it had a sort of piggish snout, massive wide eyes and a floppy pair of pig-like ears atop its head.

Commander Vir looked back at Sunny with a near pleading expression.

She shook her head at him as if to warn him that it would not be prudent to cuddle the delegation party.

One of the adorable creatures stood just then and marched over to where they stood. It’s feet were so large, that it was forced to walk with a rather floppy waddle. It wasn’t slow mind you, they actually looked quite nimble, but the walk definitely did not help. Sunny kept a hand on the Commander’s shoulder as he fought tooth and claw against his own instincts to squat down and ask the creature it’s name in his sweetest baby voice, used for dogs, and small children.

The creature stopped at his feet and looked up expectantly large eyes narrowed.

The human fought down another aww face, and snapped his hand to a salute, “L-” He cleared his throat here facial muscles twitching aggressively as he tried to maintain a serious face, “Lord Celex, I am Commander Vir of the UNSC and adjunct representative to the Galactic Assembly. We welcome you aboard our ship. Is there anything we may provide you during your stay?” 

Lord Celex glowered up at the commander with one eye closed slightly more than the other. The effect was….. Probably not what Lord Celex had intended. Commander Vir’s mouth twitched, and his chin trembled. Sunny commended his efforts to fight back a smile.

He was clearly fighting a losing battle.

“We require none of your frivolities human. We are here to speak business though I warn you we will not tolerate disrespect from you or any of your men.” Though his voice was relatively normal through the translating software in their implants, they could still hear the high pitched yipping noises that were its real language. 

Glancing over her shoulder she found similar reactions on the other humans. One of the marine’s eyes widened and he had to turn away covering his mouth with a hand.

There was a multitude of biting lips, staring at the ceiling, and downright smiling as they failed to hold their composure.

One of the marines stared ravenously forward with a hungry expression as if she planned on gathering them up in her arms and formally adopting them as her fuzzy children.

Commander Vir walked up to the table and pulled out a chair, “Shall we begin discussions then…. my …. Lord.” He tugged at the collar of his uniform, and Sunny watched the small creature stand taller. She realized with some amusement that his Lord probably thought the human was nervous…. Intimidated by his impressive stature and soldierly bearing.

Lord Celex and his followers refused to ask for smaller chairs, and in so doing they spent at least ten minutes watching as the creatures climbed onto the chairs, with some difficulty. Commander Vir fought heroically against a smile as the warlord scooted, wormed, and inched his way onto the chair using his face to balance himself before standing up.

Another marine looked onward as if he was just aching to go over and help them, or even to just hold one for a few seconds. The reactions about the table were similar, hands were rung, faces fought against their natural inclinations. Smiles erupted only to be covered by hands.

Sunny had never seen such longing on the face of any creature before. 

It was almost heartbreaking to watch.

And it only got worse once the Celzex decided to explain their war practices to the humans. Though the Celzex had, somehow, managed to build ships and travel the universe, they also had no hands, so war, or dueling involved standing about ten feet apart from each other then running headlong into each other. Whoever fell over, or was knocked out lost and was forced to forfeit. This may have been manageable to control if they hadn’t brought videos to ‘demonstrate their might’.

Krill, standing off to the side, worried that the humans might just erupt. Trying to hold back laughter like that couldn’t have been healthy. A marine at the far end of the table struggled so hard his face was red, his body shook, and tears streamed from one of his eyes hand over his mouth as he fought desperately to keep quiet.

Commander Vir utterly failed to keep the smile from his face grinning madly hands clutched tightly on his lap.

Others of the marines clasped their hands as well held up to their chests with doting expressions.

Sunny found herself grateful that the Celzex appeared not to be able to read the human facial expressions. She was, however, forced to fight off a laugh. Coming from a true warrior race these practices were more than laughable.

“You see that we are not averse to war. Our people are mighty warriors and have been for thousands of years. You would do well to respect us, human! If the Galactic Assembly wishes to ally themselves with our might they must be willing to give us the respect we deserve. Is that clear.”

“Of course…. Lord Celex, the assembly will honor you wishes to- to the best of-its-abilities.” His voice had raised a few octaves straining against the baby voice, and a fit of laughter. The muscles about his mouth worked furiously to control himself, and he stood quickly saluting the creature again, “Forgive our quick exit… m-my Lord.” his voice was so tight by the end of this Krill worried that his larynx would blow apart with the pressure

Lord Celex waved a foot dismissively at the humans who were hurriedly rushed form the room, looking over their shoulders and back towards the Celzex with expressions of longing so profound Sunny worried she would have to tackle them.

Out in the hallway the humans were silent as they hurried up the hallway and away from the conference room. Once they were at a sufficient distance, the entire group of them burst into rochus laughter. Leaning against the walls, and sinking to the ground they were practically crying.

Through tears one of the marines lifted his hand and waved it about, “I am…. Lord Celex...f-fear my wrath.” 

“I will destroy you with the power of cuddles!” more laughter 

“But seriously guys can we just talk about HOW CUTE THEY ARE!” The sentiment was chorused. “I just want to hold one so bad.” One of the humans pouted looking down at their empty hands sadly.

Commander Vir leaned against the wall, “That was the hardest thing I have ever done…. I just wanted to…. To squeeze it ...”

“So fluffy!” one of the other humans moaned.

Sunny had a feeling it might be prudent to send a different negotiating team next time. The humans had been valiant in their efforts, but they had been defeated profoundly by lord Celex. If things came to a war, she feared for their safety simply because the humans would be more likely to snuggle the creatures than to make war with them. 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Eel River Inn (8/?)

A/N: SMUT. Fluffy, soft, cuddly smut with a cuddly, supportive, head over heels in love Bucky. Enjoy! But only if you’re 18+

In the morning, Bucky wakes up with your face buried in his chest on rumpled bedding. You’re safe. You’re safe and warm in his arms. Right where he likes you to be. He cradles the back of your head in his hand and sighs. He’s glad you’re safe. That he was there to hold you through the anxiety dreams and the fitful tossing and turning. He kisses you awake and smiles when you rub your eyes and blink up at him, smiling softly. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says fondly, kissing your nose. “How do you feel?” he asked, smoothing hair out of your face. “Better,” you say, kissing his jaw. He nods and gently puts you on your back, making you laugh softly. “Good,” he says, kissing you tenderly, “I was worried, for a minute, Doll.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Bucky frowned at you, “Sweetheart, you’re my girl. It’s my job to worry. You sounded down. Really down. And I didn’t want you to be alone. I know you have Lady, but you just... You sounded like you needed a human being.” He kisses you and nips your lip, “I love you, baby. You’re my best girl. Don’t ever apologize to me for asking for help, you understand?” You nod and swallow hard. His voice was husky and the weight of him pressing on top of you was comfortable. It always felt so safe when he had you pinned under him. He knew it, he’d seen the way you relaxed at the pressure and the closeness. He tilted your chin up, “Do you understand, Doll?” he asked again, insistently. “Yes,” you say softly.

“Good girl,” he said softly, teasing your lower lip and stroking your side, using the cold metal of his hand to make you shiver and squirm. “Bucky!” you squeal, giggling. He smiled and kissed along your collar bone, making your giggles turn into sighs. “I love that sound, baby,” he said, sucking a soft mark into the spot he’d found that made you melt. He knows you might not feel up to anything adventurous but he also knows that you’ll not turn down a little adoration. You’re a good girl but you have appetites and he’s happy to feed them. Happy to give you a sense of closeness and comfort. He’s not going to lie, it works for him too. He missed you while you were away. He wanted you, whatever you had to give. Whatever you felt up to. As you melted under him, he pulled away and found the hem of your tank top, “There are too many clothes in the way,” he pouted, “I need to see my girl.” Your cheeks color but you let him help you out of your tank top. When your breasts are bare and he helps you like back down, “So perfect,” he hummed, stroking a hand over your belly and bending down to nuzzle your breasts. His hands ease the shorts off your hips and for a moment, all he can do is admire you. “Damn, Doll,” he says softly, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He parts your thighs gently and you bite your lip, squirming to get comfortable. “James,” you say softly, “Please?” He grins and nuzzles into your belly and pressing soft kisses into the flesh, “I know what you need, baby. Let me take care of you?” You make a soft sound and swallow hard, nodding. 

He needed no more encouragement. He went to work then, intent on reminding you that your depression was lying to you. You were sexy. You were wanted. You were very loved. He stripped himself down, kissing down your body, sucking marks into your skin as he worked his way down. This was all about you but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy taking care of you. He relished every soft gasp and every wiggle. Every soft moan made him ache. He eased a finger into your tight, slick cunt and smiled when you shivered. He added a second and bent his head to lick at your clit. You were going to feel good. He was going to flood your brain with dopamine and serotonin until you were on cloud nine for the rest of your stay. He was intent on it and you let him at it. He spent a long time learning your buttons and he loved pressing them. He loved it almost as much as he loved fucking you. 

His licks were slow, like he was savoring you as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He was edging you closed and closer, denying you release for a little while. The tension that coiled in your belly made you want to hurry him but you knew that rushing him would only make him slow down more. “James,” you pant, “I’m getting close.” He sucks your clit greedily and adds a third finger slowly. He wants you to come. He wants to hear your pretty cries. He works you faster, more stimulation to make you explode. When you tumble over the edge, he laps up your juices and kisses the insides of your thighs, “Beautiful, baby. Good girl.” he murmurs, gentling you. You pull him up and kiss him slowly, tasting yourself on his lips. 

“Make love to me?” you ask softly. The soldier smiles at you and kisses your nose, “Are you sure, doll?” he asks softly. You nod, “Your tongue is lovely but I want to feel you,” you say, caressing his throbbing cock tenderly. He groans and crushes your lips in a kiss, “You’re such a good girl,” he praises, “so good at telling me what you need.” You blush and caress him again, “I want to be yours, need to belong to you.” He nods and positions himself between your legs, “Anything my baby wants,” he says, snugging his cock at your entrance, “my baby gets.” He kisses you, as he pushes into you. A slow filthy kiss as he swallows your moan and basks in the warmth on your cunt and the softness of your body. There’s nothing more than needs said, in that moment as he moves inside you, angling himself to stimulate your clit as he fucks you, intent on giving you as much pleasure as he can, you find your way home. 

This is home, this moment with your soldier. He knows you. He sees you. He laid with you in the dark and now he’s leading you into the light the best way he knows how. He’s manipulating your body to manipulate your mind. Soothing the wounds he can’t see by giving you something else to feel but hollow, gnawing, hungry, pain. As you come apart around him once, twice, and then again, Bucky is lost in you. A haze of heat and lust fills his mind and all there is, is you. Your smell, your feel, your taste, the sounds you make. Cute little kitten sounds and deeper softer moans. Whispers of his name. This is home for him too. You’re so close and comfortable that he never wants it to end. But, as you hit your 4th orgasm, he loses control and spends inside you with a cry. 

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing you as he pants and rests his head on your shoulder. “Y/N, I love you,” he says again, cuddling you softly. You sigh, satisfied and comforted, “I love you, too James.” you murmur. There are a few moments, while he recovers and you bask in the afterglow where it’s quiet. 

“Shower?” you ask softly, wanting more of him. A few more stolen moments before the world comes crashing down on you. He smiles and kisses your jaw, “Anything my baby wants,” he rumbles, scooping you up gently and carrying you to the bathroom.

[trollhunter94]

A Sick, Mick Fic.

Pairing: Mick Davies x Reader

O/C: Murder witness and Daughter.

Warnings: Swearing, Cringe-worthy acts of stupidity.

Words: 1510

A/N: This is for @faith-in-dean ’s BMoL writing challenge.

Prompt: (7) “Oh my god, that’s disgusting”.

Summary: Two cases in one day. Sam and Dean took one, you and Mick took the other. Who would’ve guessed you’d get the crazy one.

“So” you prompted, breaking the silence. “Nice car”.

“Thanks” he replied, without breaking his focus on the road ahead.

Opening his glove compartment, you asked “How much did this beauty cost you?”

“It’s a company car”, he stated. “Comes with the position… What are you doing?”

Mick took a quick look sideways to see you bending forward, fumbling through his belongings. Taking a second, slightly longer glance, he saw you pulling a small, silver knife out of it’s leather casing.

“Don’t touch that. Put it back!” he said sternly as he hit you gently on the leg.

“Alright” you said defensively, putting the knife back and closing the lid. Sitting back, you looked at him innocently before glancing down to the car’s system controls and studying the different buttons.

Upon noticing a picture of a car farting, you asked him “what does this button do?” The irresistible urge to press it was on the forefront of your mind.

Mick focused on stopping the car at the sight of red traffic lights before turning to see your finger gliding smoothly towards the button.

“Don’t press”… *Presses Button*….“that”.

His eyes immediately dropped in embarrassment as a rocket launched from the back of the car, flying into a vacant truck 100 yards down the road.

Your eyes shot wide upon hearing the explosion. “Whoops” you said quietly as you looked behind to assess the damage.

“Bloody Hunters” he muttered in frustration as he raised his hand to rub his forehead in disbelief.

“Oh my god” you laughed nervously, turning to sit back in your seat. “Shit. Quick! Drive, Mick. Drive!”

Pulling up to the address, there was an awkward silence as he took the key out the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door to step out. You followed him out of the car silently to the trunk.

Upon revealing an almost empty boot, Mick opened a suitcase to show an array of shiny black items.

He reached for a handheld device and started tapping away at the keyboard.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you picked up the smallest item and studied its rounded edges.

“I’m reporting the fact that I just blew up a bloody pick-up in broad daylight, in a sub-urban neighbourhood no less”.

His voice was resonating anger but the pitch of his tone was light and unforceful.

“I’m sorry” you said, genuinely feeling bad about the situation. “At least nobody got hurt” you stated positively, sliding the small, rounded item into your pocket.

“Yeah, whatever” he said calmly as he put the device down and pulled the door shut. “Let’s get this over with”.

Walking up to the front door, you told Mick “let me do the talking” before giving the knocker a few taps. After 15 seconds of no answer, you and Mick shared a look, ready to go back to the car.

As you began to turn, a dull thud could be heard from inside the house. This caused you stop and turn your head, listening carefully for any noises.

A second, slightly louder thud occurred, prompting Mick to take a few steps back, ready to break the door down. “Let me” he said as he ran at the door with full force, using his shoulder to slam into the wooden panel.

Instead of damaging the door, Mick’s attempt backfired, causing him to rebound off the door and land ungraciously on his ass.

Trying not to laugh at him, you bit your lower lip and offered him your hand. Helping him back up, you turned around and used your boot to forcefully kick the door open.

Entering the house and reaching the parlour, neither of you could see anyone in sight. This was until Mick noticed something moving behind one of the chairs. It was a man who was fully naked and muttering incoherently under his breath.

Mick called to him “Naked man! Reveal yourself!” This prompted the man to stand up, showing his genitals as he started pacing back and forth. “The bird men are coming” he warned in an obvious state of distress.

“We have got the right address?” Mick asked you, unable to take his eyes away from the man’s naked body. “Yeah”… you said uncertainly, “this should be Mr Rook”.

The man bent down to pick something up, then slowly glided his hand in a long line across the wall, spreading the soft brown substance with it.

“Well, that’s questionable” you commented with furrowed brows as you both watched in confusion and disgust. Mick’s face turned sour, his hands clammed up at the sight and smell of the faeces.

A young woman then walked into the room, catching your attention. “Hi?” she said quizzically, looking between the both of you. “Afternoon, Ma'am” you replied. “Agents Banner and Stark, FBI”.

Reaching into your pocket for your badge, Mick quickly followed suit. Revealing the fake badges to her, she looked at yours and then gave Mick a serious bitch-face upon noticing his upside-down badge.

“We’d like to ask Mr Rook a few questions about the recent murders that he witnessed” you explained to her. “I’m sorry” she replied with a stiffly contorted face. “My father is in no state to talk to anyone”.

“That’s not my daughter” Mr Rook informed casually as he looked at his now-soiled hands. Outstretching a hand, he wiped it against Mick’s jacket, leaving a large, brown smudge of excrement just below his shoulder.

Mick’s eyes widened in horror, flicking down to his jacket, up to Mr Rook and then to you. The sight of his horrified face was hilarious, making you snort with laughter.

He gave you a look of contempt before suggesting “maybe there isn’t a case here (y/n)” with an awkwardly stiff posture. “Yeah, I think you’re right” you replied, still chuckling slightly.

Regaining your composure, you turned to apologise to Miss Rook for the inconvenience. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror on the wall, something inside of you raised the alarm.

Taking another look, you saw the recognisably hideous face of a wreath. Its hair was long and tangled and cracks in its rotten skin exposed part of its upper jaw.

“Ughh” you flinched in disgust, taking a step backwards and looking to the woman with caution.

“Oh shit. Mick!” you called, shooting your head in his direction. “It’s a Wraith. Grab some silver”.

Now that her cover was blown, the woman started to run at you. As you turned back around, you were smacked in the face with a mighty force, sending you straight to the floor.

Sitting up and regaining your senses, you looked up to see Mick backed into a corner. The Wraith lifted him up by his throat against the wall, using one hand as its wrist spike slowly emerged from beneath the skin of its arm.

Realising that you had nothing silver to use, you began fumbling through your pockets for a substitute. Pulling out the small black item you took earlier, you hoped that mick would know what it does and how to use it.

“Mick!” Gaining his attention, you threw the item at him. He caught it in one hand, looked at it and then back to you with a mixture of confusion and relief.

He brought it to his mouth and breathed on it before using his fist to shove the device into the woman’s mouth and down her throat. This caused the Wraith to release its grip on Mick’s throat and step back, choking on the item in distress.

The Wraith’s eyes shot wide in terror before exploding in a high velocity of green slime. You shielded your eyes to avoid the splatter. Opening them back up again, you looked at Mick who was covered head-to-toe in a thick layer of ectoplasm.

A sigh of relief was quickly followed by a growing chuckle at Mick’s appearance. Standing up and laughing, you said “Oh my god, that’s disgusting” as you watched it drip from his hair, chin and fingertips.

Mick just stood there, frozen stiffly in shock and uncleanliness.

Mr Rook then snapped out of his Dopamine-induced mental state and took in the view of two strangers and the green spattered walls. “What happened to my house?” he exclaimed.

Turning around, he noticed the excrement-stained wall and asked in disgust “who in the hell did this?”

You rose to your feet and started walking to Mick, who had still not moved. Inching closer with an outstretched arm, you slipped on a patch of the ectoplasm and landed on your back with a groan of annoyance.

Mick was now looking down at you, brows tensed with anger and frustration as he began to speak. “Never again. Next time (y/n), I’m going with Sam or Dean”.

Tags: @uselessace

[chocolate-brownies]

Perhaps you’re familiar with this experience: After a long week of work, the weekend finally arrives. It’s time to wind down, relax, and do nothing. However, before 9 a.m. Saturday morning you’ve organized three social appointments, ordered a new IKEA closet, and set in motion four other plans that will keep you active for the rest of the weekend.

Or something like this has happened to you: It’s 8 a.m. and you’re in the office. On your desk is a clear list of the four important priorities of the day. Your phone rings, you answer it, and, before you know it, it’s 5 p.m. and time to go home. Your list is still there, untouched and unfulfilled.

Both cases are examples of action addiction, a deep-rooted human condition caused by imbalances in the chemicals of our brain. The hormone dopamine is the key player. Dopamine is a highly addictive, naturally produced reward-drug that, when released in the brain, provides us a short-term sense of enjoyment, relaxation, and gratification. Dopamine is a main driver behind our constant busyness. When organizing the three social appointments, ordering the new IKEA closet, or checking our Facebook page, dopamine is released. We feel good. For a moment. Then the brain craves another kick. More actions. And over time we are caught in a vicious circle of action and reward. Action addiction is in the making. Does it sound familiar?

Why Busyness is Actually Modern Laziness

Action addiction is an advanced sort of laziness. It keeps us busily occupied with tasks. The busier we keep ourselves, the more we avoid being confronted with questions of life and death. As we keep ourselves occupied with tasks, important or not, we avoid facing life. We keep a safe and comfortable distance to the issues that are sometimes hard to look at. Have we chosen the right career? Are we present enough with our children? Is our life purposeful?

It’s like climbing a ladder as fast as we can, only once we reach the top we realize it’s leaning against the wrong wall.

With all our activity we believe we get closer to something bigger. We might not know what it is, but we keep working at it. It´s like climbing a ladder as fast as we can, hoping to get to the top. And someday we get there. We reach the top in the form of a job promotion or a newly acquired house. But what’s the point of reaching the top of the ladder only to realize it’s leaning against the wrong wall?

Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time with people who made it to the top of the ladder. One CEO—who was not much different from the others I’ve met—has stuck in my mind. He had decades of action addiction on his curriculum vitae. He had made it to the top of an international insurance company. He had worked hard for years—hard enough to have suffered two strokes. But he was willing to take a beating to secure his retirement and family. Sadly, his health began to fail him and he wasn’t sure he’d make it to retirement age. And in the process of securing the future, he’d lost his family. Action addiction had kept him from noticing his family pulling further and further away.

This is all not to say activities are not important. Working, cooking, cleaning, and caring for our families and friends are mandatory for us all… But we can choose to write some space into our to-do lists.

The Dalai Lama was coming to town. More than 10,000 people were coming together to see him. Over 500 volunteers, dozens of security people, and masses of journalists had to be coordinated. The man behind it all, Lakha, was a little man in his late 70s and an old friend and study mate of the Dalai Lama.

We may have deadlines, projects, and activities, but we have the freedom to choose whether we become action addicts.

I arrived at the venue early, to meet friends and be there to greet the Dalai Lama. There was intense activity setting up security, managing the crowds, and taking care of the press. In the middle of it all Lakha was standing in his suit. I walked straight up to him and asked him the default question we all tend to ask each other when we meet. I have never asked anyone the question since then. “Hi, Lakha, are you busy?” Lakha turned to me, looked at me calmly and said, “There is lots of activity, but I am not busy.” His presence spoke louder than his words. Lakha was overseeing a massive project with numerous deadlines and details to manage. There was lots going on, but it did not get to him. He was not busy.

On that day I realized clearly that busyness is a choice. We may have deadlines, projects, and activities, but we have the freedom to choose whether we become action addicts and busy-lazy, or just observe the experience of many activities. It’s a choice. And the ability to make that choice comes from developing a clear mind, free of action addiction.

Nowadays we tend to all be busy, overburdened, and perhaps stressed. It is part of our identity. If we are busy we are important. If we are stressed, it’s because we are committed and working hard. It´s in the DNA of our modern societies. If we are not busy and stressed, we are not trying hard enough. Something is wrong with us. But Lakha showed a clear alternative; having many activities and being highly effective and productive, but maintaining mental clarity and calm—not giving in to action addiction. Not being existentially lazy.

There are good reasons to overcome action addiction and thereby better avoid busyness. In addition to keeping us from seeing the bigger picture, busyness kills the heart. In Chinese, the word “busy” consists of two syllables, one meaning heart, the other death. More explanation is not needed. The busier we get, the more energy flows to the head and away from the heart. The busier we get, the more we tend to distance ourselves from others and their emotions. Action addiction keeps us busy and away from asking why. And the less we ask, the further we get removed from purpose, meaning, and love. We become effective robots that achieve more. But more is very often much less. Because the heart is not in it.

Get More Done by Slowing Down

To avoid killing our hearts through busy action addiction, we must slow down before we speed up. We must live smart and work smart. Do the right things, not a lot of things. A great analogy to this is the cheetah.

You have likely watched animal movies and seen a cheetah hunt. It’s impressive. It’s the fastest land-living animal on the planet and reaches speeds faster than some highway limits, in seconds. Despite its amazing body, it does not just set off and sprint when it spots prey. Instead it slows down. Really slow. It crouches down and for minutes moves in slow motion while all muscle fibers in its body warm up. Then, when ready, everything explodes and in seconds it accelerates faster than a sports car and catches its meal.

The trick of the cheetah is to slow down to speed up, and we can learn from that in our pursuit of overcoming action addiction and busyness. Just as the cheetah doesn’t run around constantly trying to catch mice, we can learn to focus on the real important tasks and goals in life and at work–rather than doing things just for the sake of doing them.

When we slow down momentarily and let go of doing things, we allow the brain to let go of the immediate urge for dopamine and we can focus and choose our actions out of clarity and freedom, rather than impulses. That way we can better pursue the larger goals in life like kindness, happiness or whatever it may be. By slowing down, we can speed up.

Three Mindful Tips to Slow Down at Work

1. Take an Awareness Break

You can take a systematic approach to slowing down by implementing awareness breaks in your life. Awareness breaks are 45 second breaks performed once an hour. Awareness breaks are like a reset button. It helps you reset your mind, get out of wheel spinning, and increase your focus.

Set a timer to notify you that it’s time to take a moment.

When you get the notification, stop what you are doing, let go of thoughts and direct your attention to your breath.

At the first breath cycle, relax your body and mind. At the second, focus your attention. At the third, ask yourself “What am I doing right now: Chasing mice or going after bigger prey?”

2. Halt Your Action Addiction

The consequence of action addiction is that we are constantly chasing short-term wins. We keep ourselves busy chasing details, thereby losing sight of larger goals. If you are reading this, and not really sure if it applies to you, here is a little test you can do:

Next time you get to your office in the morning, just as you are about to get in action, sit down, and look out the window or at your computer screen.

Don’t act. Don’t talk. Don’t solve a problem. Just sit. Do nothing. For three minutes.

If you find the test difficult, if you are challenged by the inactivity and get restless and experience an urge to be busy—you are experiencing some degree of action addiction.

3. Ask Yourself: Are You Choosing to Be Busy?

Next time you feel busy, pause for a moment and contemplate: What’s keeping you busy? And is it worth it? Are there things on your plate you should let go? And is your mind inherently busy or just pretending to be?

Let yourself contemplate these questions for a moment and be honest with yourself about the answers. There are no right answers.

This article also appeared in the October 2015 issue of Mindful magazine.

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