20 nsft mdni
79 posts
Braindeadqueer - Freddie - Tumblr Blog
can we both get high and make out sloppily against a wall? it's hot and messy and clumsy but that doesn't matter, we're all giggly and way too handsy anyway and it doesn't even take long for one of us to start grinding on the other, sooo desperate for stimulation because our cloudy brains only function on pure fucking lust
I want someone to get me high, really high. Get me to take hit after hit until I can't think straight. The higher I get, the hornier I get. My pussy is dripping wet when you pull me close and slid your fingers into my soaked cunt. The only thing I'm able to focus on is the pleasure you're giving me. It makes me moan greedily. I begin to squirt all over your fingers. Everything is soaked. You pull your hand away from my pretty pussy. I whine, as if to say 'please, play with me more.' You move my body, since I'm barely able to stand, and bend me over the couch. I try to figure out what's going on when all of a sudden I feel your entire cock thrust inside me. You hold it deep in my pussy, unmoving. I can feel your hard cock pressing on my cervix. It's deliciously uncomfortable. "You like when my cock is shoved inside you, don't you whore?" you growl into my ear. You begin pounding me mercilessly. I squirm and moan underneath you. It feels amazing to be used by you. I'm so turned on knowing that even if I wanted you to stop, there's nothing I could do. "You're nothing but a cocksleeve. A hole for me to fuck whenever I please" you say as you push my face down into the cushion. "And now I'm going to fill your pretty pussy with my sweet cum". I start to understand the words you're saying. You can't come inside me, I'll get pregnant. I trying to get away from you but I'm pinned between you and the couch. I use my arms to try and push you off but it's no use. I'm too weak and dazed. You pin my arms behind my back and say "There's no use fighting, you're my little cum dump and I'm going to fill you to the brim with my seed". Your thrusts become faster and faster. I try to let out a scream but you cover my mouth with your other hand. My desperate attempts to get away are futile. You laugh as you watch me try and fail. "Here it comes, slut!" You announce. I let out a muffled scream as your cock empties into my womb. You pumped me full of your sweet, sticky semen. You pull out. Leaving me naked, draped over the couch, leaking your seed out of my abused cunt. You grab me by the hair and pull my ear towards your lips while you lovingly say "You were such a good fuck toy. I'll be using you again very soon."
i need someone make me grind on their thigh until i’m begging for more. Arousal washing away any hesitations I have.
Mark me up with so many bites and bruises I will never forget who I belong to.
Play with me and use me however you see fit.
look me in the eyes and call me a good boy as you shove two fingers deep inside my aching cunt.
Overstimulate me until i’m shaking and whining.
use me however you want, in order to pleasure yourself.
Fucking yourself with my holes and not letting up until you’re satisfied.
The desire to be called a good boy VS the embarrassment of admitting i want to be called good boy
I think a hot lesbian touching me through my underwear would cure me honestly
What the hell is edging even?
Getting a good boy so close to their release you can already see their eyes rolling back, can feel their clit pulse, their cock throb, the little sounds leaving their mouth getting impossibly needy. They're so sweet, even telling you that they're going to cum.
All that to just - stop completely. To see the confusion, the desperation in their eyes turn into tears as you repeat the act again and again and again until the boy under you is nothing but a dumb, whiny mess. Babbling and begging, sobbing and drooling, only a wrong look at their pretty parts could send them over the edge.
Having a smart boy not even remembering his own name because his only thought is the wish to cum. This is power.
someone actually put it into words.
wow.
Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.
I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.
Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.
Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.
The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.
Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.
I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.
So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.
If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.
Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.
Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.
And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.
And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.
I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.
Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.
Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.
I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.
© lwtdjo on X
does anyone remember this tweet from paget in 2012 I’m screaming
emily: i’ve been nothing but insane to you and this is how you treat me??
your man doesn’t have the mental strength to caramelize onions
derek: dawn dish soap commercials be washing everything BUT dishes. i do not have a greasy duck.
I'm sure other actors from Supergirl were involved in the photoshoot with this lighting, but I didn't even bother looking.
Me: I'm a cool adult who's in touch with the youth and won't denigrate their slang.
The Youth: *use 'pos' to mean 'positive'*
Me: The lord is testing me.
A news report from Australia's government broadcaster in the 70s, found in their archives simply labeled 'lesbians'
Captions added by for your reading pleasure
emily: i aint arguing with an unbelievably attractive woman. whatever you say my love
I just want to tease her to the point where she decides to get bold and tease me!! Dom masc’s love this btw 😏
jj is too pure for that team
Reid: You know you can die from that, right?
Emily: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.
Derek: *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed up the process.
JJ: *eating raw cookie dough and nodding* Yeah, what they said.
Emily: [punches JJ’s arm]
JJ: Emily what the hell?!
Emily: My love language is combat
Therapist: you saw the red flags though, right?
Spencer: I thought it was a carnival…
life actually gets better when you leave the house consistently btw like im serious
emily: subs are so fun to play with. all you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way, and they're a wide-eyed mess. spencer:i haven't been to subway in a while, but what the fuck kind of sandwich store are you going to? garcia: man, substitute teachers deal with so much shit. jj: guys.