Tsalyani - Hello!

I was going to sleep

I just decided to check tumblr before I would do that, no need to attack me this hard

me at 8pm: you know im kind of tired maybe i’ll actually get to bed at a reasonable hour like 10 or 11 or something

me at 2 am:

Hairy Pawter and The Chamber of Fluffs

“I solemnly swear that I am up for a sandwich.” ~ Hairy Pawter

“Just because you have the emotional range of a litter box doesn’t mean we all have.” ~ Purrmione

“From now on, I don’t care if my kibbles spell, ‘Fluff’, they’re still going in my tummy where they belong”. ~ Ron Meowsley

missionary is truly an intimate position. okay some freaky bitches shit on it because it is so "vanilla" but the beauty of being face to face, watching your lover make those expressions, having to witness the vulnerability is just so romantic. when your lips crash because you just can't take how pretty they look. when your foreheads meet, nose brushing as they thrust. when your fingers intertwine, holding onto each other like the world is ending tomorrow and you don't want to let go. and if the world does end, you wouldn't regret dying as two souls in each other's embrace.

READ. EVERY. WORD. OF. THIS. Account of a medical team out in St. Paul last night.

Link to original tweet thread.

Dark woods

My Favorite Kind Of Night Series - COMPLETED.

Camboy!Bucky Barnes x CEO!Reader

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk

My Favorite Kind Of Night: COMPLETED.

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6 

I cannot with this man, I hate and want him at the same time 😭

Intrusion

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,255 Summary: After your brother is assassinated, his murderer decides to have a little fun with you.  Warnings: AU probably. Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. Dark!Lloyd. Home invasion. Mentions of minor character murder. Non con. Vaginal fingering. Unprotected sex. Pussy slapping. Cream pie. Lloyd's the worst tbh.

A/N: Uh. This "drabble" got out of hand. SORRY NOT SORRY! 😘

One moment you were sleeping peacefully, and the next, you were jolting awake at the sound of yelling and gunfire. 

You heard all hell break loose as your brother’s security team responded to whatever threat had reached his front door, and you scurried into the closet in the corner of your room, trying your best to muffle your frightened sobs with your hands. 

It’s all for naught, as moments later, once the manor has gone eerily quiet, your closet door was wrenched open and you were yanked out by your arm before being dragged downstairs to your brother’s home office. 

You cried out as you were roughly thrown to the floor, your face landing inches away from a pair of perfectly shined leather shoes. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like we've caught ourselves a sweet, little prize, huh?”

You could hear the glee in the unfamiliar voice, scrambling to a sit as the man crouched before you. 

It was the dark burn of his gaze taking its time to survey you—to leer at you in your little cotton sleep dress—that had you shivering with dread as you pulled your knees to your chest and curled in on yourself.

You stared back at him for a moment, your eyes big, frightened, and shimmering with tears as you quickly drank in his pale skin, dark hair, and the ridiculous, thick mustache that detracted from his otherwise handsome features. 

“What’s your name, pumpkin?” He purred, touching his tongue to his teeth as his eyes lingered on your bare legs. 

At your silence, he grinned, bright blue eyes finally meeting yours. 

He leaned in, pointing to himself with the gun in his hand as he said, “I’m Lloyd, and you are...“

You jerked as the gun gestured toward you, trembling your name at his expectant look. 

“Mmm, that’s a pretty name. A pretty name for a stunning woman.” 

Lloyd gave you another lecherous once over before rising to his feet and sauntering to the drink cart adjacent to your brother's desk. He poured himself a generous tumbler of your brother’s good brandy before taking a gulp. 

“You the girlfriend?” He guessed. “Mistress? One night stand?”

You blinked at him, your wide gaze pulled away by the other men—the soldiers—lingering around the periphery of the room. 

Suddenly Lloyd was filling your vision, crouching before you looking mean as he touched the end of his gun beneath your chin, eyes glittering at your whimper as he directed your gaze back to him. 

“Don’t look at them, cupcake, look at me. I’m the one in charge.” He leaned in close, his next words a warm puff against your lips. “I’m the one you gotta sweet talk into sparing your life.”

“Boring,” Lloyd huffed at your ongoing silence before snapping at his men, “Out! All of you. Get the fuck out!”

They were quest as they retreated, and despite how terrifying they all were—especially armed to the teeth—you somehow felt more afraid, more unsafe, now left all alone with Lloyd. 

He must have been able to read the realization on your face, because he snickered. 

“Answer my question.” He snapped your brother’s name. “You his girl?“

You couldn’t help it as your face scrunched in disgust and you shook your head quickly. “He’s my brother.”

“Was,” Lloyd smirked. 

And suddenly there was a lump lodged in your throat as more tears blurred your vision and you shook harder. “H-he’s dead?”

“Yep,” Lloyd popped the p on his answer, tapping two fingers to the center of his forehead. “Good ole kill shot. It was quick and painless, in case that’s any consolation.”

You stared at him, horrified—heartbroken—as more tears leaked down your cheeks. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Lloyd sighed, his eyes falling down the length of you for a long beat. 

When they snapped back to yours, they were even darker than before, gleaming with a deviant kind of malice that made your blood run cold. 

“Now I need to decide what to do with you.” He tapped a finger to his lips, as if in thought, before announcing, “Ah ha! I’ve got an idea.”

He lunged closer, grabbing your arm and yanking you against his chest. He chuckled at your chirp of fear, the way you went stock still as he gently caressed your cheek with his gun.

“You have a choice, pumpkin: you can get fucked by this,” he pressed the gun beneath your chin, hard enough to make you whine in pain as his lips hovered over yours, his eyes excited. “Or, you can get fucked by my big, fat cock.”

“N-no, please!” You shook your head, blinking a fresh wave of tears down your cheeks. 

“Better pick, clock's ticking,” Lloyd grinned at you. “What’s it gonna be? This loaded gun with the safety off,” he laughed at your sob. “Or this big, fat cock,” he cupped the growing bulge at the front of his pants. “And a load of my cum?”

When you only cried harder, shaking your head as “please” rained from your lips in a desperate chant, Lloyd growled.

His hold on your arm tightened hard enough to make you cry out as he jerked you against his chest. 

“Pick, now,” he hummed softly, nuzzling your nose with his. “Before you end up like your brother.” He groaned as you trembled against him, licking the tears from your cheek before pressing a scratchy kiss there. “Pick.”

It wasn’t much of a choice, and you both knew it, but still—despite your impending violation—you didn’t want to die. 

“Y-you,” you quavered, barely above a whisper. “I pick you.”

“Good girl,” Lloyd cooed, leaning back enough that he could see you and meet your gaze when he tipped your face up to his. He smirked as he told you, “But I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

At your furrowed brow, he snickered. 

“Tell me you want my big, fat cock.”

You barely shook your head before Lloyd’s hand gripped your throat hard, a tic in his jaw popping and his eyes blazing like fire as he snarled, “Say it.” 

“I—“ your voice broke, a wave of humiliation—of shame—washing over you as you whispered, “I w-want your big, fat cock.”

Lloyd’s laugh was a quiet, gravelly rumble. “Oh, I’m more than happy to give it to you.”

You were on your back before you could even process his words, watching with big eyes as Lloyd slid his gun into the holster at his side before shrugging off his jacket. His biceps bulged against the short sleeves of his polo shirt as he stretched out over you, until his face hovered inches over yours and his warm breath fanned across your lips. 

“You really are a pretty thing,” he hummed, gently caressing your warm cheek with his knuckle and huffing a laugh as you flinched. “You’re gonna keep your eyes on me the entire time. Nod if you understand.”

Your nod was more of a jerky bob of your head that had Lloyd smirking. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, his big hand wandering lower, making a detour to roughly grope your breast. “Wish I had more time to play with these, but we’re on a schedule.”

You couldn’t help but shove against Lloyd’s stomach as his hand reached the hem of your sleep dress, sneaking beneath it then between your thighs. 

“Please don’t,” you pled on a whisper, more tears spilling over as you stared up at him in horror. 

“Aren’t you just the most precious thing ever,” Lloyd teased. “I’m just giving you what you want, what you begged for.”

“I don’t want this.”

“You want it more than the alternative, don’t you?” He paused the wicked descent of his hand, his gaze challenging. 

Your own flickered to the gun at his side, and you shuddered at the thought of what he had suggested, a few more tears dripping down your face as you stopped trying to shove Lloyd away and went pliant beneath him instead. 

“That’s what I thought,” he sang, booping your nose with a grin. 

Then his hand was at your panties and twisting hard, the sound of the fabric ripping deafening, and the harsh pull of it against your skin making you yip in pain. 

You went rigid as Lloyd’s long, thick fingers tickled along the cut of you. He tutted at the dry state of your cunt, his dark gaze boring into yours as he started to rub at your clit, his fingers caressing along your folds and dipping between them, teasing your hole until your body started to respond.

To betray you.

“There you go, knew you could do it,” Lloyd husked as your cunt responded to his touch, arousal seeping from you, making you cry harder—riddled with shame—as Lloyd shoved two fingers into you without warning. 

Your back bowed as a pained cry spilled from your lips and you pushed against his chest again, whining at the harsh burn inside you as his fingers stroked and pressed and invaded. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever felt a cunt this tight,” Lloyd groaned, rutting against you to relieve the ache in cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

You were so relieved when Lloyd’s fingers retreated, that you didn't quite process the rustle and clink of him undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and retrieving his cock. 

A beat later, the head of him caught at your entrance and your eyes went wide as they met his. “Wait—“

Lloyd did the opposite, driving into you on one deep, brutal stroke, moaning at the way your sweet body seemed to welcome him home—where he was meant to be—as you sobbed and shook beneath him. 

He wasted no time, settling into a hard, fast pace, rutting into you wildly–roughly–jerking your body against the cold, unforgiving floor as he shoved into you over and over again. 

Another broken whimper spilled from you, and Lloyd laughed, dropping his forehead to yours as he murmured against your lips, “Told you it was big and fat. You can barely take me.” 

He nipped at your bottom lip hard before licking it, his hips pounding into you ruthlessly as his rhythm began to falter. 

When his hand dropped and his fingers began to rub at your clit, making something other than pain bloom deep within you and spread quickly, you cried harder, your hand clawing at his wrist as if your timid touch could stop his, stop what was about to happen. 

“Yeah, give it to me,” Lloyd laughed as your body arched up against his without your permission. “Come on, pumpkin. Let me feel you cum around my cock.”

Shaking your head, you turned away from him, squeezing your eyes shut as you teetered on the edge. 

“Bad girl,” Lloyd husked against your ear, “I told you to keep your eyes on me. Doesn’t really matter though, you’re still gonna give me what I want.”

His lips trailed along the side of your neck, and then his teeth bit at your skin, not hard enough to make you bleed, but hard enough to startle you, to tip you over the edge.

You were cumming before you even realized what was happening, your cry anguished—betrayed—as your body trembled and your cunt pulsed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetness, squeeze my cock.”

Lloyd stilled to enjoy the feel of your pussy clenching and clamping around him, and then once your body sagged beneath him, boneless and at full surrender, he really went at you. 

The sound of your coupling rose up around you, Lloyd’s grunts and groans making your cheeks burn with a renewed, shameful fire as he slid a rough palm against your face and turned your glassy, tearful gaze his way. 

You stared into those dark blue, evil eyes of his as Lloyd reached his peak. As he gave a few final, lingering ruts, throbbing within you and filling you with his cum, shoving it as deep as he could as he hummed his pleasure—his triumph over you—and didn’t stop fucking you until he was completely spent. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, sagging against you. “That’s one grade A pussy.”

Lloyd took a moment to catch his breath and then he pushed up over you and pulled out, smirking as you gasped and clenched your thighs together. 

“No,” he snapped, shoving your legs apart and putting your glistening pussy on lewd display. 

He watched, waiting, and then he grinned big as his cum slowly dribbled from your cunt. 

“Mmm, look at that. You may be pretty as fuck, but this messy pussy is a goddamn stunner.”

You jerked and whimpered as he gave your cunt a harsh slap, smearing his seed all around and laughing as you rolled away and curled in on yourself. 

You were hugging your knees to your chest and choking on a sob when Lloyd finally rose to his feet, redressing and smoothing his hair back into place. 

“Let’s go, pumpkin, up and at ‘em, we have a flight to catch.” 

He grinned as your startled gaze flew to him. 

“What? You didn’t think I’d actually let you go, did you?” 

He crouched before you, gently gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and inspected your devastated gaze, the betrayal shining in your eyes.

“You did, didn't you? God, you really are too fucking precious for words, aren’t you?” he cooed. And then he smirked and leaned in real close as he hummed, “You have two more holes for me to ruin, pretty girl, and I can’t fucking wait.”

Why do the mean ones make the hoo ha flutter? 😩 Please drop me a comment or reblog, I love reading your reactions so much!

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I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

I know that it's hard to hear about innocent people dying. I know it's hard to care about politics especially if it's from other countries or if it doesn't affect you. it might be depressing for you to hear about these things happening but imagine living it. it's our last chance to win this fight, if we don't the internet is gonna stay limited, more people would die from poverty and police brutality, they will be more strict about the hijab and more afab people would be arrested. maybe you're asking yourself what can I do about it? maybe you're thinking that it's none of your business and sharing posts won't do shit. maybe you're right, at the end of the day it's our revolution, it's our fight. and I swear that we're trying our best to overthrow this brutal dictatorship.

but they're killing people, using minors as police, using schools and ambulances to hide police forces, they are breaking into people's houses and beating and arresting protesters. so I beg you to talk about it and share the news. the only reason that they haven't shut down the internet completely and haven't killed 1500 people like in 2019 is that the world is watching us, the world knows about us. after 44 years of oppression and fear and violence finally our voices are being heard. so don't let people call it a color revolution, don't let them call it islamophobic to burn a veil. these are some tactics that the government use to silence iranian people. so just ignore it and get your news from iranian people instead of so called "leaders" of the protests.

help us if you can, be our voice.

News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.

Geralt can admit that it isn’t his greatest escape plan. But being pushed back towards the waterfall, there are few other options for him and Jaskier to escape alive.

Rocks tumble over the side into the rushing white waters. Geralt sneers at the edge. He should have known what the angry mob was doing. Should have guessed it. Stupid. And now, Jaskier and himself are standing at the world’s edge with no where to go.

No where to go, but down.

Geralt looks towards the trees, can already see the crowd of 30 gaining on them.

“Geralt, think of something, will you!” Jaskier’s voice is a shrill thing in his ears. But the  is a cover. Fear wafts off of him, though less so than an average human.

It is this reason that he grabs hold of the bard and throws the both of them over the cliff.

Falling from this height is more terrifying than Geralt anticipated. There’s hardly any control he can take. Jaskier is screaming beside him. It lasts a moment, barely an instant, before they plunge into the icy cold water.

The world around him spins. There is no sense of direction. No up or down. His only tether is to Jaskier, whom he refuses to let go of. He will not lose him in the rush of the river.

It’s a fight to the surface, with his armor and his friend, but there have been more difficult battles. The next problem is swimming to the damn shore, but the rocks are slippery and Jaskier refuses to help. Though, he may be in shock.

He’ll deal with that later.

Finally, he pulls them both ashore. Geralt gasps for air, more out of panic than anything else. For a moment, all he can do is lay on his back and look at the sky. His gaze shifts from the bright blue of it to the top of the cliff. There are no signs on the angry crowd. He can’t properly hear them with the rushing water. Even if they were to come after himself and Jaskier, they will have plenty of time to make their escape.

“Jaskier,” Geralt calls out. They should dry off. Get going. Figure out a plan on how to get their belongings back. He turns his head to the side, waiting for the oncoming flood of complaints.

Silence.

“Jaskier.” He sits up, discomfort and discombobulation forgotten. Silence rings in his ears. The bard is always making noise. Singing, humming, tapping. His heart beating. But now, his lungs are quiet in the orchestra that makes up Jaskier.

Geralt scrambles over to Jaskier’s side and turns him over. His head lolls. But he’s still alive. His heartbeat, weak as it is, is still thumping. There’s still time to fix this. Panic, alien and intrusive, has to be pushed down and away.

There’s a trick Geralt learned many years ago in Skellige. Something about… pulling the water from someone’s lungs. He’s never had the use for it before now. Tries to remember all of the specifics.

He tilts back Jaskier’s head, pries open his mouth, pinches his nose, and then leans down to breathe air into his lungs.

Geralt can see from the corner of his eye Jaskier’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Does that mean it’s working? He continues regardless. (This can’t be the end.) Almost dizzy from lack of oxygen on his own, Geralt raises his head and takes a deep breath before returning to Jaskier.

It’s with this shared air that Jaskier finally sputters to life, turning to his side and expelling river water. He coughs violently, his voice rasping. Relief floods Geralt. He is going to have to thank Crach an Craite one of these days.

He’ll have to visit Skellige again. (Go to the coast?)

Now that Jaskier is okay, Geralt has little idea what to do with his hands. He places one on Jaskier’s shoulder. Runs his thumb back and forth in what he hopes to be a comforting motion. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Taps his fingers against his chest. Breathes. Then, “Did- did I-” Another cough. “Did I imagine things… or did you just kiss me back to life?”

Geralt removes his hand from Jaskier’s shoulder and frowns. “That is not what happened.”

Jaskier, the bastard, opens a single eye. Shining with mischief. Geralt wants to wipe that smirk off of his face. “So you didn’t put your mouth on my mouth?”

“That’s not how that works.”

“True love’s kiss, what a beautiful thing!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt looks away, unable to withstand the joy Jaskier is exuding. “We have to go.”

“Truly, Geralt, I wasn’t sure you had it in you. And here we are! Me, alive and… well, not kicking yet. You may have to carry me. Or, oh! Why not kiss me again? If one kiss brings me back from the brink of death, surely-”

“Jaskier-” This is neither the time or place to talk of… such things. He takes a deep breath in slowly. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”

-

more geraskier