#glitter edits are sexy

[sexualsagexxx]

Pretty in pink

Find me here

#fairy aesthetic #fairy girl #18+ only #18+ #after dark #model #alt girl #tattoed girls #girl with tattoos #alt model #lingerie #late night #sexy #soft pink #pastel pink #fairy wings #glitter #edit #noodes #nudity

[sunnibits]

sunni i love your new pfp and also the whole vibe of your blog now it's amazing and chaotic

sggsghs thank you very much!! I was honestly gonna change it back to an izzy thing bc I miss him and I need to retain my middle aged man brand but idk… now I’m debating……

on one hand it still feels very weird to me to have a pfp that’s actually of myself but on the other hand it’s strangely powerful,, it makes me feel infinitely funnier idk

(and I mean I rlly can’t deny that this is a vibe)

#like. every time I make a god tier funny hilarious post bc I’m sooooo hot and sexy and funny #you gotta acknowledge the fact that it is coming from ME. from the word of god directly #no more blorbo vessels to translate my words to the people just direct contact baby #ask box #ngl tho I still… miss him…. a lil bit. also I want to have an izzy icon JUST bc of that one fucking post that blew up #I need an izzy stamp on it #I’m honestly debating making an edit to that post so if anyone goes to the original it’s like THIS WAS ABOUT CON ONEILL in pink glitter

[freezingfractal]

#blue #blue aesthetic #glitter gif #blue glitter #edgy sexy aesthetic #wtf do we call these shits lad im blanking on the name #gif #piercings #i should do more piercing edits i didn't get the contrast perf

[joelsmochi]

Dirty Lies

SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]

A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…

There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.

Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.

You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.

Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.

He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.

You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.

But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.

You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.

For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.

He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.

You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.

“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”

Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.

“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.

You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.

Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.

Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.

“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”

Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”

You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.

“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.

This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”

You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”

“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.

You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”

Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.

You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”

Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”

You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.

“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”

“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”

Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”

“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.

You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”

Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?

Is that what this was? A crush?

He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”

He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.

You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.

“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.

You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”

“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.

“How should I go about telling a guy that?”

He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.

Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.

“Does he do the things you ask him to?”

“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He gave you a look that said come on now.

“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.

“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”

You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”

“Does he like you?”

“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”

“So… What do I do?”

“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”

“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”

“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.

“What do you mean?”

Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”

“A real man, huh?” You bantered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you like me?”

Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.

Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.

“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”

You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.

You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.

He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.

The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.

Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.

“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”

He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.

His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.

His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.

You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”

He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”

“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”

He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.

“That so?”

“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”

Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.

However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.

You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.

Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.

For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.

When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.

Joel.

Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.

You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.

It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.

“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.

“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.

“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”

“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.

You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”

He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.

“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.

“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.

“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”

He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.

“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.

“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.

You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 

You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”

“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”

“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.

“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.

Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.

“Yep, he sure does.”

Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.

Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.

You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.

Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.

You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.

He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”

He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.

He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.

One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.

He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.

You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.

Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.

He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.

You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.

You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.

You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.

“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.

He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.

Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.

Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.

A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.

Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.

You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.

He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.

He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.

He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.

You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.

You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.

You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.

Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.

He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.

Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.

You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.

It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.

He felt ashamed of himself.

He’d known you since you were a child.

How could he ever look you in the eye again?

How could he ever look your father in the eye again?

You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.

When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.

“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”

You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.

“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.

You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”

His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”

“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.

“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.

“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.

“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”

“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.

“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”

You could just hear the smile in his voice.

“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.

He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.

“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.

“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”

Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.

“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”

You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.

Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.

If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…

He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.

You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.

Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”

She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.

“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.

“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“

Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.

You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.

“Told ya.”

“What time are you out?”

You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.

“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”

“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”

You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.

“Think you know why,” he grunted.

Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.

But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.

You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.

“I got a good one in already—“

“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.

“No, b—“

“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”

Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:

-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.

-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.

-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?

Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.

“You not working tonight?” You asked.

“No, we finished early.”

You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.

“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”

“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.

“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”

He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.

“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.

You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.

You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.

His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.

He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.

You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.

His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.

You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.

You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.

He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.

You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.

His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.

Savor it.

Taste it.

Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.

Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.

“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.

He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.

Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.

“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”

He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.

You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.

You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.

His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.

He loved it.

Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.

You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.

“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”

Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.

Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.

Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.

He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.

You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.

The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.

The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.

"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"

He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"

Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."

"Why are you actin' all shy now?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."

"Know about what exactly?"

You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"

He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.

"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.

You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."

"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.

"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."

Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.

"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.

"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.

"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"

-

Read Part 2 here.

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut #joel miller blurb #the last of us hbo #the last of us

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt VIII good omens a spoiler-free trailer

*walks into church, ignoring the gasps of the congregation* *holds mic to a terrified gentleman's face*

Have you ever wondered, what if the flaming sword at the Garden of Eden was insufferably in love with the Serpent?

*doesn't wait for response, shoves mic in shaking lady's face*

What if I told you, your bible studies are incomplete, because they are missing the most important story of all?

*cut to me in front of a white screen, walking seductively toward camera in a suit*

Worry not, for your prayers have been answered. Presenting, Good Omens, a kind-of biblically accurate story by Sir Terry Pratchett and Tumblr's own @neil-gaiman, now a TV show and queerer than ever. All you AO3 slow-burn hoes, we see you. You asked for it, you got it. Childhood friends is so last millennium, we give you instead, six thousand years of mutual pining.

*hard cut to David Tennant, whom I have stuck to a chair with Elmer's glitter glue* *he struggles, in vain*

Starring David Tennant and his signature slutty walk as Crowley, now in a ginger Barbie edition that comes with demonic eyes, every hairstyle and gender you could ever dream of, and instant outfit changes. It really is a miracle!

*camera swivels to focus on Michael Sheen, who is bound in blankets and looking deeply concerned*

Starring Michael Sheen the fae shapeshifter as Aziraphale, the sweetest, most cherubic murderous bitchy angel you've ever seen. Special features include automatic heart-eyes the moment he is faced with Crowley, a charming disregard for casual massacre in the name of God, and the instant outfit changes. Watch him melt your heart before breaking it! Bonus tip: try giving him sushi!

*cut back to the white screen, I am now sitting uncomfortably close to the camera*

Follow Aziraphale and Crowley as they alternatively try to follow and thwart God's ineffable plan, managing to spectacularly fail at both tasks with a consistency that amazes as it befuddles. Featuring alcohol, a bookstore, and metaphorical and literal fire as things get a little... heated in the Bible fandom.

*crossfade to Soho, I walk along the street as the camera follows me*

If that isn't enough to convince you, presenting also, idiot lesbians giving an ancient demon love advice, sexy horsepersons of the apocalypse, an unofficial wedding combined with burning Nazis alive where the most important part is the handing over of a suitcase, and the sexiest MILF witch Agnes Nutter, a literal bombshell.

*cut to disturbing close up of Neil Gaiman's face* *he tries to step away, and is met with my camerapersons*

Watch Neil Gaiman give you hope and shatter it again repeatedly, in a show where the literal apocalypse is only the background to a forbidden idiots who are lovers-to-lovers who are idiots story that is older than Time itself. Armageddon takes a backseat as Crowley serves gender, and if you thought the Antichrist was adorable, wait till you see him in Good Omens, where his evil powers are directed towards being the cutest kid he can possibly be.

*cut back to white screen, I smile ominously while twirling a human bone*

Good Omens, at your nearest Amazon Prime, with free UST, fluff, Queen, and plenty of tears. Don't miss it!

*text rapidly rolls across screen*

[Imagery has been used for representative purposes. No David Tennant, Michael Sheen or Neil Gaiman was harmed in the process of creating this advertisement. Good Omens will have expected side-effects, including unprompted sobbing, a Pavlovian reaction to bandstands, nightingales, holy water and 'the final fifteen', heartache for the foreseeable future, and intense lust for Crowley's elusive gender. Asmi is not responsible for any consequences resulting from the advertised product. Some features have been excluded from the advertisement due to space and time constraints.]

#good omens #good omens mascot #good omens fandom #crowley #aziraphale #lgbtqia #aziracrow #neil gaiman #aziraley #azirowley #asmi #weirdly specific but ok #maggots #mascot #weirdly the prophet #good omens prophet #good omens spoiler free #spoiler free summary #go 1 #go 2 #david tennant #crowley gender #michael sheen #antichrist #adam #end times #armageddon #apocalypse #slow burn #idiots to lovers

[xotaemintol]

PERVY BOYFRIEND JISUNG X FEM BLACK READER (oneshot)

*im still editing pt3 of my Jisung AU, so in the meantime I wanted to post something else. I was originally going to do a pervy bf hc for Jisung (I’m still going to) but I took one part of it and well…*

PRONOUNS: none (fem reader)

TWS: sex toy, masturbation(m), cum tribute.

Word count: 553

Jisung can get off to you no matter what, when your hair is done and when it’s messy; unshaved, as smooth as the skin of a grape or with drool on the side of your cheek. Jisung thinks you look sexy no matter what, but he thinks you look especially sexy when you smile or when you’re in the sunlight. He’s so obsessed with the way your smile looks, your two toned lips and pretty brown skin have always been his weakness; he could never help himself when he sees you happy. His obsession is so bad that once when you were out Jisung begged you to take pictures for him before the sunset. You thought it was cute that he wanted to see some golden hour pictures of you and did it without a second thought, but not even 20 minutes later he sent a video of himself jerking off with the picture in front of him. calling your name as he told the camera how badly he wanted to fuck you and how pretty your skin would look painted with his cum.

But you could never understand the extent of his love for your beauty until you caught him in the act. You wanted to surprise him with some flowers since he had been working so hard with the dreamies and decided to come over unannounced. You knew that he wouldn't mind—he does it to you all the time so you didn’t think twice about showing up without a call or text. But when you got to his room, his door was wide open, and he was standing in front of his computer screen with a picture of you in a beautiful yellow sundress on display. You could remember the day you had taken this picture, the sky was clear and the sun was beaming down onto you, making your beautiful brown skin glow—it almost looked like you were made of glitter. And right before the picture was Jisung, fucking a fleshlight he had strapped to the desk with a pair of your underwear clutched in his large hand and pressed against his nose.

Panting and huffing like a dog, he placed his other hand on the desk as his knees buckled. His strokes were so strong and sharp, you could tell just from watching him how badly he wished that it was you instead. His voice trembled as he groaned and slammed his other hand on the desk, fucking the poor plastic even harder as his head dropped and the desk shook. With every thrust the desk hit the wall harder and harder—you couldn’t tell what would break first; the desk, the fleshlight, or him. It only took a few seconds longer for him to quickly pull out of the abused toy, the second he did he began to fuck his hand, aiming right at his screen as he imagined how pretty you’d look if you were standing right in front of him. The sound of his desperate and lustful moans made your stomach feel warm and tight, and as he came onto the picture of you your knees felt weak.

You waited until he finished until the last drop had been released, and when he was finally catching his breath, you made yourself known.

#nct dream x fem black reader #nct x female reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct x black reader #nct x reader #nct smut #park jisung x fem black reader #park jisung x black reader #park jisung x reader #park jising x black reader #park jisung scenarios #park jisung smut #jisung smut #x black reader #x fem black reader #park jisung fanfic #park jisung imagines #park jisung x you #nct x fem black reader #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop x black reader #kpop x fem black reader

[drewsbuzzcut]

some girl hitting on nick at a party ( after they are married) and Dallas losing her shit on her

Caught Up In It All

nick moldenhauer x dallas blankenburg

a so it goes fic

warnings: jealousy, mentions sex, mentions underage drinking, and i think that’s all. (Let me know if i miss anything) This is also slightly edited

Dallas’ hips continue to grind up against Nick- even as the girl across the room continues to stare daggers into the couple’s heads. Nick’s hands are a good distraction as they travel all over her body. At first they held onto her hips, keeping her body flush against him, but then they moved up her torso. Now, one hand rests on her neck, angling her head up so he can seal his lips to hers. It’s like he knows someone is watching them.

The room is hot, sweat is dripping down the girl’s forehead. Her head becomes more and more fuzzy as their bodies sway sensually together.

Dallas makes eye contact with the same girl, so she gives her a cocky grin. Lifting an arm up, she throws it behind her, hand cupping the back of Nick’s neck as she starts to suck on his skin. There’s a red mark already blossoming in the area, highlighted by the glitter of her lip gloss. Dallas starts bending her knees, body going lower and lower as she dances in front of her boyfriend. He grabs both of her hands lifting them up as she gradually stands to her full height.

“Have I told you how sexy you are?” Nick pulls her into his arms, whispering his question in her ear.

She giggles, leaning more into his body before pecking his lips.

“You have many times, but you know I love hearing it,” she retorts, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair.

“You, my wife, are so incredibly sexy. I can’t wait to get my hands on you later,” he flatters her, nipping at her earlobe. Dallas swoons at “wife,” still not used to their recent nuptials.

“You’re the sexy one, husband,” she says hotly, hands going underneath his shirt.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks her in between hot kisses.

“Yes and while you do that I will go run to the restroom,” she says, kissing him before she leaves.

Dallas makes sure to fix her lip gloss, she cannot not have on lipgloss- especially when she’s at a party. After a few random selfies in the mirror, she makes her way out of the bathroom to find Nick waiting at the kitchen bar. With that girl. Dallas can feel the blood in her veins start to boil, the liquid courage egging her on as she confidently walks their way. Jealousy isn’t something she’s used to, but every now and then the green monster comes out to play.

Nick is clearly annoyed and the girl clearly isn’t getting the hint. He keeps backing up away from her each time she reaches a hand out to touch his bicep.

Act like nothing's wrong. Act graceful. No reaction is the best reaction.

“Baby!” Nick shouts once he sees his girl.

“Hi, handsome. What did you get me?” She greets him, pressing a kiss to his bicep and accepting her drink from his hands.

“Vodka and Red Bull,” he responds, pulling her under his arm.

“Who is this?” The girl in front of them asks Nick as if Dallas wasn’t even there.

“My wife, Dallas,” Nick informs her.

“Wife?” The girl partially shrieks, face showing an expression of shock and annoyance.

“That’s what he said, was it not? Who are you?” Dallas’ mouth speaks before she can think about what she’s saying.

“I’m Inez,” the girl, Inez, replies.

“Ironic,” Dallas scoffs, stopping her eyes from rolling no matter how hard it is. She is not in the mood to deal with another Inez.

“I was just talking with Nicky here about hockey. I love hockey. It’s so rough,” Inez explains with an overly eager tone. She attempts to reach out and squeeze Nick’s bicep, but Dallas subtly pushes her hand away.

“I’m gonna go back out to the dance floor. Come find me when you’re done here, Nicky,” Dallas says to Nick, mocking Inez’s nickname for her husband.

“No, stay with me. I’m just about to say goodbye,” he quickly responds, pulling Dallas back into his body. His arm goes over her shoulder, his hand coming down to affectionately squeeze at her boob. Dallas lets her smirk cover her features.

“So how long have you been married?”

“A month,” Dallas responds.

“Why get married so young? Did you get pregnant unexpectedly? Or are you just a money hungry slut going after his money?” Inez sneers, fixing Dallas with an accusatory glance.

Dallas and Nick are both stunned to silence. Dallas feels all sanity slip away as Nick starts to respond.

“Don’t ever talk that way about my-“

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dallas is pissed.

“I’m just asking questions. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Inez defends herself.

“You ask too many fucking questions. We’re married because we’re in love. No, I’m not pregnant and no, I’m not after his money. The next time you want to ask stupid ass questions, maybe ask yourself why you’re the slut trying to go after my husband. You’re lucky I’ve been drinking, or I’d be beating the shit out of you for disrespecting me and my relationship. Get the fuck out of my face,” Dallas snaps, chest heaving and cheeks a shade of red Nick has never seen.

“I’m the slut? Says the girl who’s always around all the hockey players. Nick, she’s probably cheating on you with the whole team,” Inez spews out more accusatory remarks.

“Don’t start talking shit about my wife, especially when you don’t know anything,” Nick blurts out.

“Don’t fuck with me. I’m not playing about fighting you. If I hear one more disrespectful word come out of your mouth, I’ll make sure that everyone knows you’re a husband stealing bitch. Or at least an attempted one, because why the hell would my husband go after you when he has me? Learn your place and get the fuck away from us,” Dallas finishes.

Nick turns her around, pulling her into a hug, simply done paying any attention to the girl.

Inez walks away, her turn to be quiet.

“Are you okay?” Nick whispers, pulling back some to check on his wife.

“I’m fine, I promise. I know you were about to tell her off, but I just couldn’t stay silent,” Dallas responds, voice timid. She’s beyond flustered because she’s not used to being in situations like that.

“I love you, June bug. You’re my one and only,” Nick kisses her lips, wiping away the few tears that fall from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, rubbing her back.

“She ruined our night, and now people are looking at us because I caused a scene,” she mutters.

“No she didn’t. We’re going to go back on the dance floor and dance until our feet hurt, and then I’m taking you home and I’m going to fuck my beautiful wife until she’s seeing stars, because she’s the most important thing in my life,” her husband says, making her blush and feel giddy.

“Can we just skip to the sex?” She asks, jokingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips some more. She hides her face in his shoulder, feeling the adrenaline crash.

“Come on, June bug,” he smirks at her, hands squeezing at her ass before he drags her to the dance floor.

“I think I need to get you one of the shirts about your girlfriend being hotter than everyone else,” Dallas shouts over the loud music.

Nick turns, pulling her body into his and smirks down at her.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. You are hotter than everyone else,” he says into the skin of her neck.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, leaning up to connect their lips in a bruising kiss.

“You’re mine,” Nick repeats, nibbling on her bottom lip before he dances the rest of the night away with his wife.

a/n: ENJOY!!!

#nick moldenhauer #nick moldenhauer x oc #nick moldenhauer x reader #nick x dallas #so it goes au #umich imagine #umich hockey

[marlinspirkhall]

I watched the unaired Selection pilots so you don't have to

But, if you want to, you can do so here, and here (password: “selection”), credit to Media Garage on YouTube

Edit: links no longer active

The Selection (2012)

Strong Hunger Games vibes throughout, the plain-text opening screen isn't helping

Stock-footage of rolling hills gets replayed way too much

ETHAN PECK?

Unlike in the books, America only finds out she's been entered into The Selection after she gets selected, so the plot point about the photoshoot & her radiant smile being the thing which gets her selected no longer applies, I guess

Everyone in the YouTube comments was saying that Aspen and Maxon were miscast & the actors' roles should have been swapped (... No comment. I believe in you, Mr Peck)

This castle is looks too small to fit 24 TV show contestants in it

Fiona, unprompted: “Can you keep a secret, America?”

America: “I have been known to”

Fiona: “I play the violin”

Okay? (This is actually a very sweet moment and, again, Fiona may be the best actress in this)

This episode covered a significant portion of the first book, out of order, which makes me wonder if the intention was to cover all 3 books in one series.

This almost feels like half of a film, making me wonder if someone adapted a film spec script into a tv show spec script

Apparently, Fiona has a secret child and Celeste knows about it, causing Fiona to drop out on day one and tearfully warn America to “trust no one, there's no such thing as friends here”- which is a fucking wild thing to say when she's probably the only contestant who's been nice to America so far & Celeste didn't even need to get to know her to know her secrets because she has spies anyway 😭

It's worth reminding you that they have been at the palace for one entire day total

You think Queen Amberly is being fleshed out in this version but... Hmm

Amberly appears to be the one pulling the strings from behind the scenes (she confronts Celeste about extorting Fiona, tells her "she would have gone home in due time" and to "leave America to me. Anything we do to try and separate them [her and Maxom] will only make him want her more")

Again: IT HAS BEEN A DAY

America sees her servant gathering all her dresses (none of which she has used yet, bar the yellow and green ones) including the iconic blue one from the book cover. America asks what's happening and the servant replies: “Prince Maxom's orders”

Cut to America's family. They open a box with a glittering pair of high heels inside. I guess this is supposed to mirror the part of the book where Maxom cuts off the stipend for 2's and 3's who are in the selection?

If you think this version feels unfaithful to the book, just wait until you see The CW's pilot

IT HAS BEEN ONE DAY

Runtime: one day 45 minutes

Final rating: 5/10, kinda long and stiff in places and the set design was all over the place. Felt like a Hallmark movie (the set design didn't help). Probably would watch another episode of this if it was a full series or a limited series of 3-6 episodes. A little script-doctoring and a better set would work wonders.

The Selection (2013)

I cannot stress enough: this version begins with a sex scene between Maxom and a servant

Okay, I got ahead of myself; it actually begins with another hunger-games-esque black screen with text on it, text which reads “Someday, in the future”, which is read aloud by a woman's voice.

We zoom in on a much roomier-looking castle on a hill, as a random whip sound effect plays (leading into the sex scene, in which no whips are present)

All the female servants in the palace are dressed in sexy maid costumes and I wish I was kidding

The world map explaining the history of Illea is CONFUSING AS HELL, but maybe they hadn't nailed down all the details yet. I'm genuinely not sure

ANTONY HEAD?

Aspen is introduced tied to a St Andrew's cross and being watched over by a guard. America asks the guard to free him, he chases her through the streets, she circles back and cuts Aspen down

America's selection is similar to the 2012 pilot, except Aspen is present. America asks her mom why she'd enter her into the selection when “You know I'm with Aspen”, so uh, I guess they're not keeping it a secret here.

There's also no mention of Aspen being of a lower caste than her, nor of America having a job other than the vague title of "laboring class" which hangs over them all, vaguely

This is a masterclass in editing and pacing. The dialogue is okay, but the added geopolitics make no sense. Any issues with this are smoothed over by the fact that the plot keeps moving forwards at a breakneck pace to keep you distracted.

The lack of breathing room would probably be too confusing for an audience who wasn't already familiar with The Selection

The set here is absolutely beautiful but unfortunately it gives me Merlin vibes, and casting Antony Head as the king does not help with this.

Maxon attempts to pull a Mr Darcy. He then tells America that if she runs away with Aspen, the guards will beat him to a pulp and they'll both spend the rest of their lives in prison. America suggests that she make the monarchy look good so the working class don't side with the rebels. Looks like we're going full Hunger Games.

Celeste's handmaiden seems way too devoted to her; they turn out to be lovers

Just when you think Maxon might start redeeming himself, we see the palace guards swarm Aspen and kicking him. Maxom stands nearby on his horse overseeing this so there's no question of whether he did it or not

Final rating: 6/10, I would absolutely watch another episode of this. It was an absolute mess, but I've seen teen wolf, so I'm not gonna pretend I'm above it.

This feels like the kind of pilot which would get greenlit just to attract hateviewers.

Summary:

Neither protagonist had red hair and neither adaptation was trying particularly hard to give it to her (2012: dark red box dye. 2013: blonde!)

These actors are doing their best and some of them even seem to be having fun (good for them)

In the 2013 pilot, the writers lampshade America running around “like an action hero”, but she promptly forgets how to do that by the midpoint of the episode, so w/e

It feels like the 2013 pilot was a reworking of the 2012 pilot, because there were too many similarities carried over from one script to another which weren't present in the original book, like Fiona having a secret relationship.

I forgot to mention that Aspen has a brother in the 2013 pilot. He seems to be adapted from the palace guard who has a relationship with one of the contestants in a later book.

I can't get over how fucking weird of a decision it is to make the kind and likeable love interest into a power-corrupt despot, but it does feel more true to an actual monarchy. I assume they were trying to give Maxon a bad-boy vibe, which doesn't make much sense because that's supposed to be Aspen's whole deal.

There was a whole subplot in both pilots where an advisor character is revealed to be working with the rebels at the end of the episode

Extremely funny to me that the 2012 pilot makes a point of mentioning that sex before marriage is illegal and the 2013 pilot opens with premarital sex with the prince regent

#The Selection series #The Selection #Kiera Cass #Anthony Head #Ethan Peck #dystopian fiction #YA fiction #undescribed #America Singer #Prince Maxon #long post

[bondageundertaker]

Last Night Lonely

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x Reader

Chapter 1/?

Warnings: none yet...eventual smut

"By the way a Slammy, interesting thing to give somebody with a lisp to say..."

You stifled a laugh behind the camera. Cody was such a goofball sometimes. He was a natural entertainer and effortless in front of the camera, and even more so after tape stopped rolling.

Once the take was over he sauntered over to where you were sat, his broad shadow engulfing your hunched form as you uploaded the footage ready for editing.

Looking up from the laptop screen and into Cody's grinning face, his icy blue eyes glittered with warmth in a beautiful contradiction.

"How was that?" his earnest tone melted your heart.

"I said some people... Didn't say who."

" Perfect " you smiled, tilting your head in thought before adding "... You know, some people think lisps are sexy."

His grin grew wider, "You think my lisp is sexy? Noted." He raised his brows in quick a flash. Of surprise.

"Riiiiight." he leaned down, hands braced on the table edge, lips drawn into a smirk before he whispered in your ear

"SlammySlammySlammy"

"Cody!" You shrieked, jumping up from your chair but he was already retreating from the room with head back, cackling out the door.

#wwe x reader #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes x you #american nightmare #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #Wwe fic #Cody rhodes

[safarigirlsp]

Forbidden

Hogwarts Professor Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Aggressive and Dominant Jacques. Chasing. Implied Age Gap. Student/Professor Dynamics. Professor/Professor Dynamics. Everyone is over 18, as All Readers Must Be.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: Based on a special request for a sexy Christmas party with Professor Le Gris from my beautiful friend @kyloremus ! She does the absolute best edits around and keeps me absolutely rabid! Edits by her, of course!

More Hogwarts Professor Jacques fics for anyone hooked:

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Dashing Through The Snow

I Put A Spell On You

A Duel to Remember

Fog hung heavily in the winter air, snaking through the cobblestone streets and the serpentine twists of Diagon Alley. Fat snowflakes danced lazily down from swirling carbon clouds and the cobblestones were icy and slick beneath the fresh powder snow. Shop windows glowed with a kaleidoscope of lights and buttered rum and spiced wine could be scented on the frosted air. Christmas Eve was a glittering evening, the kind filled with beauty and wonder and promise. A gust of wind blew down the alley toward you, twirling a flurry of snow up from the ground. You pulled your coat tighter around your body and trotted toward your destination a few businesses ahead.

Ducking inside the welcoming doors of the Leaky Cauldron, you were instantly enveloped by warmth and the smell of drinks and fried food. The bar was more crowded than you had ever seen it, packed to standing room only with patrons out for Christmas Eve. Festive music, a mix of cherry and clubby, almost made you want to dance as you weaved your way through the crowd. The edges of the bar were obscured in that murky shadow that liked to linger on the sidelines, like wallflower shades watching from the wings. You could see figures of people sitting in the shadows, but couldn’t make out any discerning features. You could almost feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you from the shadows.

A wave from the crowded bar caught your eye. A group of four people pressed together at the bar, two couples, waiting for you. Your friends. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be the third wheel in your group, still single after your closest friends had paired up with men during their school years and shortly thereafter. Zelda was now married and Dina, more protective of her freedom, was with a man she had been dating for years. It was easy to see that the man who was supposed to meet you tonight was absent. You expected to hear whatever excuse he had for that from your friends. It was no bother, really. Blind dates were always something of a disaster.

Zelda waved at you more animatedly, fitting for your bubbly blonde friend. Beside her Dina, a stately brunette, must have told their men to clear some space for you because both men moved to the edge of the bar under the guise of having some conversation amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe Gaston stood you up!” Zelda huffed indignantly when you joined them, referring to your absentee blind date. “What an asshole! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”

“It’s best for the assholes to weed themselves out early,” you said nonchalantly. It was hardly an upset. You were beginning a new job soon anyway, one that would have you sequestered away from the world for most of the year. Starting a relationship now was impractical.

“I agree,” Dina added. “At least you hadn’t invested any energy in him or wasted any time. Besides, now if we see him out and about, we have every reason to be as nasty as possible to him, which is always fun.”

“To hell with him,” you said and took the beer the bartender slid in front of you. The three of you raised your glasses and clinked them together to a round of, “Merry Christmas!”

“There’s more to celebrate on top of the holidays,” Dina said with a coy smile.

“Yes!” Zelda added excitedly. She clinked your glass again with too much vigor, spilling beer over both your hands. “Cheers to the newest professor at Hogwarts!”

Elation and slight embarrassment rushed through you at her toast. You were proud and excited, and still a bit in disbelief that you had secured such a coveted position. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that you had graduated from Hogwarts yourself.

“To the new History of Magic Professor!” Dina added and took a drink. “Leave it to you to make that class interesting at last. I must admit I’m shocked the Headmaster liked your pitch.”

“Not nearly as shocked as I am.” A wide grin spread across your lips. “I figured that since I had no real chance of getting the job anyway, I might as well shoot my shot and lay all my aspirations out on the table. In my wildest dreams, I never suspected the Headmaster would actually want a course that teaches both the history of magic and the added practice of the arcane spells we lost to history.”

“Another toast! To no lost limbs or dismembered students in your first term!” Zelda teased.

“At least, to no one I like,” you laughed.

“Just think,” Dina mused with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Now you’ll be on equal standing with our old professors.”

“Ooo, yes!” Zelda said conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s best you’re going into this job single.”

Nearly every teenage girl at Hogwarts had a crush on one professor or other. You and your friends were no exception. It didn’t help matters that several professors were men in their prime, in their thirties and forties, at the peak of their attractiveness. Zelda had charmed her journal to explode with pink hearts whenever she wrote a certain name in its pages. The hearts smelled like roses and would flutter around her like butterflies. Of course, the name belonged to their charms professor, a dashing man with chic mahogany hair, masculine chest hair that peeked through the buttons in his shirt, and eyes as richly green as the forest after a rain. Dina had been so enamored of their quidditch coach, a tall athlete with golden hair, sky blue eyes and a movie-star smile, that she engineered a few nasty falls from her broom just so he would rush to rescue her and carry her to the hospital wing in his burly arms.

It was undeniable that both professors were attractive, but your interest had never been piqued by nerds or jocks. Bad boys appealed to you, or rather, tall, dark and handsome men. Byronic men with a hint of darkness who would be right at home in a gothic Victorian novel. The sort of man who exuded danger and vigor, the kind who had a predatory presence and a devil-may-care glint in his eye. The kind of man who, when he looked at you, he looked ravenously, leaving you wondering if he was going to steal you away to a dark tower or ravage you against the wall at the ball where you could be discovered at any moment.

As schoolgirls, the three of you spent countless hours in the library and common room discussing your favorite literary men, debating which men were the best. Fortunately, there was never any competition between you for your favorites. Zelda could have gallant Mr. Darcy and Gatsby and Atticus Finch. Dina could claim lively Cpt. Wentworth and Beowulf and Jean Valjean. So long as they left roguish Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff and Edmund Dantes for you. The dark antiheroes and villains who you weren’t really supposed to love. The forbidden kind of man. Prince Charming was so boring compared to the Beast, and what prissy prince could eat you better than the Big Bad Wolf? Naturally, the literary epitome of this was Count Dracula, but until he crossed oceans of time to find you, you were left with a sadly more mortal selection of men.

And if there was ever a man who epitomized tall, dark, handsome, and Byronic, it was Jacques Le Gris. When he stalked down the halls, he looked as if he were roaming his family’s century’s old gothic mansion. When he strolled across the grounds in the evening, it was easy to picture him roaming a Scottish moor. Adding to this imagery was the fact that he often undid the top two buttons of his shirt when taking his evening stroll, revealing the thick cleft of his chest. You thought you were suffering a heart attack one morning when you saw him running shirtless near the lake through the mist before dawn.

In coffee and in men, your tastes ran dark, robust, and strong. It was the Head of Slytherin House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who had captivated you from the moment you first saw him. The year he came to Hogwarts as the new defense against the dark arts professor was your last year in school, and despite the number of candles on your birthday cake, there was nothing childish about you at seventeen. The memory of that first day was still as vivid in your mind as the present moment you were living. Professor Le Gris all but storming down the hall in his long purposeful stride, unruly ebony hair dusting his impossibly broad shoulders, his cape swirling in his wake as though it were a living thing. Heat flooded you at the mere memory. Some girls had their sexual awakening in some bumbling experiment with a pimpled teenage boy under the quidditch stands. For you, it was imagining Professor Le Gris’s huge hands running over your body, gripping you so hard in his passion that the bruises he left lingered for days; his long hair falling around his face in sweaty tendrils as he looked down at you, caged beneath his enormous body, running your hands over his broad back and feeling his muscles flex with every thrust into you.

Memories of your darkest fantasies flooded your mind with an almost dizzying intensity. It was unsettling, you had never experienced such vivid, intrusive visions. The feeling of Professor Le Gris’s hands on your body felt as real as the wooden bar you leaned against. The sound of him growling your name in your ear rang deeper than the cheery music in the bar. The rich masculine scent of him overrode the smells around you, and the taste of beer on your tongue was overshadowed by the taste of his skin and arousal.

“Hello?” Zelda snapped her fingers in front of your nose playfully. “Were you listening at all? I asked if you still have a crush on our old defense against the dark arts professor?”

“Oh, Professor Le Gris?” you feigned ignorance, hoping your friends didn’t see the way your pupils had dilated at the thought of him. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“Perhaps you can seduce Professor Le Gris and put in a good word for me with Professor Wren and we can have an awkward double date together,” Zelda laughed. “Best we not tell my husband.”

You rolled your eyes and took a drink in an attempt to open your throat back up, since it had closed at the thought of him.

“You’re not a student anymore,” Dina said suggestively. “And rumor has it Professor Le Gris is newly single again after some tawdry fling with one of those jezebels teaching at Beauxbatons. You’re rather lucky, you know? I was devastated to hear that Coach Baldr had married.” She nodded toward her boyfriend at the end of the bar and snickered. “Poor Albert has no clue how precarious a position he has. I would leave him in a moment if that Norse god wanted to take me to Valhalla.”

“Speaking of rumors,” Zelda said, lowering her voice to the quiet tone they once used to gossip in the library. “I still wonder if Le Gris is a werewolf. He has the look, doesn’t he? Those amber eyes, all that bushy hair, and those teeth. The way he looks at you a little too intensely. Can’t you just picture him howling at the moon?”

“My money is still on him being an animagi,” Dina argued. “I agree that he would be a wolf though, like his patronus is. A big black wolf with yellow eyes.”

Unbidden, the image came to you of a big black wolf chasing after you as you ran through a misty forest. Your heart pounded in your ears, almost as loud as the wolf thundering behind you. You inhaled sharply as the wolf lunged at you, sinking his teeth into your neck, pleasurably painful. Your wide eyes shot up as if the bite was real. And met a pair of amber eyes across the room, watching you from a shadowy corner of the bar.

Shock froze you in place, made your muscles seize as though it was Medusa’s eyes you had looked into and been instantly turned to stone. It was lucky actually. Otherwise, you would surely have dropped your beer and made a much more outward spectacle. As it was, you managed to keep a modicum of decorum and show no obvious displays of surprise. Or arousal, even as old fantasies again played in your mind like a song on repeat. You met those eyes steadily, eyes you hadn’t seen in person since your last day as a student at Hogwarts.

Professor Jacques Le Gris watched you intently. The way a wolf watches a fox frolicking unaware. Even the way he leaned casually back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, was lupine. A predator at ease, waiting for the opportune moment to seize his prey. Though he reclined in his chair, he still dwarfed the small round table for two. He was dressed all in black, the way you had most often seen him. Only tonight, his jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. His cravat was undone, the tails hanging down on either side of his shirt, framing the vee of chest that was exposed by the top two open buttons. He looked every bit the swarthy rake, a bodice-ripping libertine straight out of a Victorian penny dreadful. A half-smoked cigar was pinched between his index and middle fingers, a tendril of smoke spiraling from its glowing end toward the ceiling as he casually circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. His eyes had a fiery glint to match the cigar.

Instantly, you wondered how long he had been there. How long he had been watching you. If he had heard you. Judging by the level of his drink and the length of his cigar, he had been there some time before you arrived. His plush lips twitched in a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass to them, watching you over the rim as he took a drink. Another image intruded into your thoughts. Professor Le Gris striding down one of the many long, dark hallways of Hogwarts. He was behind you, stalking you. And of course he caught you. Grabbing your shoulder, he roughly turned you around and pushed you back against the nearest wall. He crowded against you, towered over you. His hips pinned you to the wall and his arms caged you in, his huge hands planted on either side of your head. He leaned in, his lips hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Every part of him was huge and hard; his thick chest under your hands, his iron fingers gripping you, his massive cock digging into you through his pants. The thought was too real, utterly taking command of your mind, and your body responded. A deep throb rocked through your core along with a melting heat, dripping through you slowly and deliberately like candle wax.

“I need some air,” you told your friends. They looked at you concerned, so you added convincingly. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just stuffy in here with the Christmas party crowd. You know how I hate being packed in with the unwashed masses.”

You pushed through the crowded bar and all but bolted outside, hoping the cool winter air would have a chilling effect on your rampant imagination. Outside, you walked briskly, feeling the icy snowflakes land on your cheeks. And the way they steamed on your hotly flushed skin. Thankfully, there were few people outside on Christmas Eve. They were all either home with family or inside at a party like the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley itself was nearly vacant, the shops darkened. Darker still and more vacant was Knockturn Alley. You were counting on it as you rounded the corner into the literal darker alley and trotted past a few darkened storefronts.

In the privacy of a shadowy doorway you leaned against the locked door and let out a heavy breath. You sounded lewd even to your own ears. The overhand of the doorway blocked the snow from falling on you and your skin felt instantly hot again. Another image flooded your mind, and you began to wonder if this was what madness felt like. This vision was different than any you had ever had before, but just as vivid. In your mind’s eye you saw Professor Le Gris standing shirtless in a gothic bedchamber with tall arched windows and a grand king bed, perhaps his chambers at Hogwarts or his home, wherever that was. In that omniscient way you know the thoughts of every character in dreams, you knew the thoughts that plagued him. How he had been consumed by the desire for a particular woman for years. A forbidden woman. Jacques would never seduce a student, fuck a student. No matter how beautiful and enticing, and blatantly responsible for his wolfish hunger you were. In nearly forty years, he had never been so captivated. So enchanted. So cursed.

Clear as a florid memory, you saw Jacques lean against the wall, pressing his head to the cool stone. Here, in private, he could imagine all the things he could never do in reality. Like fuck his favorite student. He knew how wrong it was even to think such disturbing things. The thought made him grin to himself, an indulgent, devilishly handsome grin. He pictured your luscious body. He wondered how sweet you smell. He imagined how delicious you taste. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the tight hot squeeze of you around his cock when he fucked his fist. Stroking his cock, he imagined thrusting into you, over and over and over, feeling you strain and flutter when he stretched you around him. The way he groaned was absolutely filthy when he came, imagining he was filling you until it was leaking out of you. He all but banged his forehead on the stone wall when he finally rested his head there, his hair falling around his face in a disheveled ebony curtain, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

There in the snowy alley, you watched it all happen in your mind’s eye as though it were your own memory. No, less like a memory and more like watching it happen through a window, like a voyeur. Your friend’s statement flashed in your mind. An exciting, enticing thought.

I am no longer a student.

As you felt a slick heat ruining your panties, you sobered for a moment. Just long enough for one lucid thought that was both thrilling and frightening. You remembered another rumor about Professor Le Gris. He was rumored to be a master of occlumency and legilimency. A legilimens could access another’s mind, see their thoughts and feel their feelings. No one could keep any secrets from a legilimens. Not only could a man with such a skill read your thoughts, he could influence them. He could plant any thought, any feeling, any image into your head as though it was your own. He could make you fantasize about him and remember your most forbidden desires. He could make you see what he felt for you, what he always had. He could make all those thoughts and feelings boil to the surface of your mind, make your desires simmer. He could even make you drip for him, almost on command.

“I’ve known your secrets for some time,” his voice sounded from the alley corner. Real this time, deep and hoarse with desire of his own. Jacques Le Gris leaned against the brick wall of the shop whose doorway you had hidden in. “The way you wanted me to corner you in the halls, pin you there against the wall where you couldn’t escape. Take whatever I want.” His pose was casual, his shoulder leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. But his eyes were the opposite, watching you with a burning intensity that all but crackled through the air. “Now, you know my secret, too.” His voice was a growl when he added, “I’ve always wanted you. To ruin you for any other man. To make you mine and keep you all to myself.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward you in that predatory way of his. “And now, there’s not a damn thing stopping me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a feeble attempt to cling to some dignity. A thought flitted through your mind – he was prostrating himself before you. In his own way, he was making himself just as exposed as you were. He was pursuing you, taking the greater risk.

“Don’t you, now?” he teased in a gravelly voice. “I’ll never believe you didn’t know how you tormented me. Seeing you in those little skirts, thinking about those fumble-fucking schoolboys laying their clumsy hands on you. Knowing how much more a man could give you. What I could give you.”

“And what exactly is it that you could give me?” You tilted your chin up defiantly to add, “Professor?”

“Knowledge.” He walked to you until he stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, grinning wickedly at the way his proximity affected you. “Regardless of what else I may be, I’m a very good professor. There is a loophole in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct that you might find interesting. Relevant.” He placed his hand on the door next to your head and leaned in close, his body only inches from yours. “Would you like to learn it?”

“If it saves me the time reading through the Code myself,” you tried to sound nonchalant, certain you failed. In fact, you did need to read those exact Codes before assuming your role as a new professor, but you had until the start of term to do it.

“Still a procrastinator through and through,” Jacques tisked you and leaned closer, his entire forearm now resting on the door next to your head, his face very close to yours. “You should know that relations between fellow Hogwarts professors are forbidden. A fireable offense.” He dropped his head and brought his prominent nose near your neck, and you thought he was going to kiss you there. Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of you like some exotic perfume he had long been denied. “But forbidden only when the relationship postdates the beginning of a professor’s tenure.”

His words seemed to echo in your thoughts, needing a moment to take root. Looking up, you met his eyes. Eyes that glimmered like gold in the snowy night. “Relationships that predate the beginning of a professor’s term are allowed?”

“Clever girl,” Jacques said, his lips still near your neck, his breath steaming hot on your skin. “You always were a quick study. The very best and brightest. Did you think I only wanted you for that luscious ass?”

You tried to detect a note of sarcasm, but found none. You took a steadying breath and put a tentative hand on his chest. It was hard as granite beneath your hand. Jacques placed his free hand over yours, trapping your hand over his heart. You fixed your eyes on his, watching for a flicker of doubt when you asked, “What is it you want with me, Professor? Exactly?”

“Everything,” he growled the single word. It was more than an affirmation. His eyes told you it was a promise.

“We shouldn’t waste a moment, then,” you told him confidently. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.

“You read my mind.” He smiled genuinely, one of the very few you had ever seen on his lips. His toothy smile could have looked gawky, but right now, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. His chest rose and fell under your hand as he leaned in to kiss you. Before his lips consummated your first kiss, he whispered, “My name is Jacques, not ‘professor.’”

“I’ll save professor for when I want you to teach me something, then,” you made your voice as seductive as possible now that you had decided on your course of action. It was easy now that you were confident he felt the same, that he desired you as fiercely as you did him. You eased your hips toward him, arching your back away from the door. Your lips were already parted when they met his, eager to finally taste the man you had dreamed of for so long.

The taste of him when he kissed you, the feel of him when his powerful body pressed against you, the strength of his hands on you was so much better than anything your imagination had ever conjured. It must have been the same for Jacques because he groaned into your mouth, his free hand dropped to your waist and he pulled you against him almost brutally. You wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed to his. Lifting a leg, you hooked it over his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, using your entire body to pull him closer. His hand caressed your thigh from your knee up to your ass then squeezed you there. It would be so easy for him to hoist you up off the ground, for you to wrap your legs around him, for him to fuck you right now against the lonely door in Knockturn Alley, while snowflakes gathered in your hair.

“I know what you want. I’ve seen your fantasies,” Jacques purred, pulling back from your lips just enough to speak. “I know them so well they might as well be my own. Tell me which is your favorite and it will no longer be just a fantasy. I’ll enact it for you right now, down to every last detail.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” you teased. You were on fire from his touch and you ached with desire. Thinking of him as you had been was its own kind of foreplay, and now it was torment to prolong it. He was hard and his cock rubbed against you through both your clothing, teasing you erotically in the perfect place. But then, he knew right where your perfect places were. And dear god, he was huge.

“This is too tame for your fantasies,” he laughed darkly. “Tell me your favorite. Although, I think I know it.” He kissed your neck, teasing your skin with his teeth and a light nip. “You want to run from me, pretend you have a chance of escaping. You want me to chase you down, catch you, rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal. Or is that what the girls call being ravaged these days?” He pressed more weight against you, almost crushing you against the door, but the feel of his body and his weight was wonderful. “You’d pound your fists on my chest and tell me to stop, but you wouldn’t mean a word of it. You want me to take from you what has always been forbidden to give me.” Pulling back just enough to let you breathe, he brought his hand to your throat. His hand easily circled your neck, making you feel small and vulnerable, trapped in his grip. He squeezed. Gently, just enough for you to feel how easy it would be for him to truly take whatever he wanted. His voice sounded dangerous when he told you, “I can do that.”

“Yes,” you said at once without even taking a moment to think. This is what you had wanted for as long as you could remember wanting anything from a man. And Jacques Le Gris was offering to give it to. “I want our first night together to be like a fantasy. But I have a counteroffer.” He kissed you before you could make it, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You took a breath and finished, “I say we play out my favorite fantasy first and your favorite second.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “If you’re game.”

“Darling, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.” When Jacques grinned at you now, sideways and wicked, the wolf practically jumped out of him. You knew he was telling the truth, that he shared your desires in full. That he wanted you just as desperately as you did him, and that he possibly had for just as long.

“Wait, I can’t just run off.” You stalled him with your hand on his chest. “What will my friends think?”

“What do you want them to think?” He slyly tapped a finger to his temple, his message clear.

“It’s enough for them to think I went home with a handsome man and not to worry about me,” you said coyly. “And it had better be true.”

“So long as you think me handsome, it’s true.” His grin widened and he pushed your arms back up around his neck. “Hold on tight.”

You knew what he was about to do before he did it and asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“The perfect place to give you what you want,” he laughed, a throaty rumbling laugh, and held you so tight you couldn’t have escaped his arms if you wanted.

Suddenly, the world blurred around you and spun as if you stood at the center of a cyclone. Your stomach swooped with the unnerving feeling of falling and a boom like thunder rang in your ears. When the world stopped spinning, your head took another moment to catch up. You swayed against Jacques in what could rightly be described as a swoon. For a few seconds, his hard body against you felt like the only solid thing in the world. He held you as you regained your balance and composure, his arms comforting and secure.

You were no longer in Knockturn Alley, or the city at all. You were surrounded by thick pine trees with snow drifting lazily down around you and leaving a light blanket on the ground. The light was diffused softly from the light of the bright full moon filtered through a thin layer of cloud. It looked like a dream and you wondered if Jacques could possibly be such a powerful legilimens that he could be crafting this world all inside your head. But you knew this was real, and you knew precisely where he had apparated with you. Although it had been years, you had been here many times before.

You shook your head at him fondly, appreciating his humor in the moment. He had taken you to the Forbidden Forest.

Jacques was game indeed. He fully intended to give you exactly what you had always wanted– a man of action instead of those of lesser fortitude who hid behind pretty words. Now that the onus was on you to accept his offer, you found it difficult to keep from trembling with nerves. He was so big, so powerful, so predatory. It was more than a little intimidating to think of him chasing you, catching you, manhandling you. It was almost frightening. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was always a fine line between fear and excitement, between a fright and a thrill.

“What shall it be, beautiful?” Jacques asked. The devious bastard had probably read your mind again. Or your trepidation was that plainly written on your face. “Do you want me to play naughty or nice with you?”

“You brought me here,” you said with as much conviction as you could, making up your mind. “Carpe nocturne.”

“I’ll seize something alright.” Jacques sucked his teeth and bared his canines in a wolfish grin. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and glazed his black hair with silver, giving him a wild look. A beast, at home in these woods. He lowered his chin and fixed his lupine eyes on you, looking ravenous and dangerous. His voice rumbled through you when you told you, “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I hunt you down and sink my teeth into that delicious ass of yours.”

“Ten seconds, huh?” you teased as you took a few tentative steps away from him deeper into the woods, exaggerating the sway of your hips seductively.

“One.” He cut off your flouncing, deadly serious, and took an ominous step toward you. He rolled one sleeve back up to his elbow where it had slipped down, somehow making that gesture look aggressive.

Smiling, you began lightly trotting through the dense trees. The forest glittered all around you in white snow, silver moonlight, and deep pine trees. The air was crisply-scented and cool, but your skin was so flushed the chill was welcome.

“Two,” he huffed behind you. “Better run a lot faster than that.”

Deciding on a path through the trees, you quickly picked up speed as adrenaline flooded your bloodstream. The idea of the chase, of running from a looming hunter, was exhilarating. You found a small game trail snaking through the forest, a pristine white laceration between the snowy trees, narrower than a footpath. The trees themselves reached their twisted branches out to you, as if to offer their help to hide you from the beast at your heels. A light mist lingered in the forest, dancing around your knees and swirling in your wake as you ran ahead.

You felt it when Jacques gave chase. You couldn’t see him now through the trees and brush that separated you, you certainly couldn’t hear him, but you felt him somehow like an electric shudder through your body, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It was as if the forest itself felt him too, the atmosphere changing around you now that you were actively being hunted. 

A thick pine tree was close ahead of you, its lush low-hanging branches inviting you near, offering you a place to hide from your pursuer. Ducking under its branches, you pressed your back to the trunk on the opposite side of the trail. Snow dusted down on you from the branches you rustled, pleasantly cool on your skin. The fragrant smell of pine and sap surrounded you as you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to slow the hammering in your chest.

Snap.

The sound of a breaking branch reverberated through the trees, making your entire body jolt. You strained your ears to divulge more sounds, but there were none to be heard. The silence around you was so complete it was oppressive after the sounds of your running. It seemed as though the forest itself had gone quiet, and the snow offered more insulation on top of it. The trees surrounding you had become an audience waiting with bated breath to see if you would make your escape. Or if you would fall victim to the hunter at your heels. 

Surely, Jacques could have caught up to you by now. You expected him to charge past your hiding spot behind the pine tree only seconds after you and run ahead down the game trail. 

Slowly and as quietly as you could, you turned to look around the trunk of the tree that shielded you, daring to breach the side of the tree with only one eye as you checked your backtrail. Nothing. No big bad man in sight. Even the fog had settled again.

You returned your back to the tree and rested your head back against it, still scanning the trail. As you returned to face front, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head around to meet Jacques’s unnerving eyes and hulking body looming right at your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pathetic yelp left your throat. Jacques growled as his arm shot around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. He wasted no time in sinking his teeth into your neck in a biting kiss, ensuring he left a bruise to mark the presence of his lips. 

“Jacques!” You jumped away from him, fueled by reflexes alone. Jacques let you. You took a moment to steady yourself, filling your lungs with air too slowly for your spinning head and rubbing the fresh mark on your neck. It stung, but sensually so.

“I’ll only count to five this time.” Jacques told you as he stepped toward you with a hint of menace and a devilish grin curling his lips.

Hungry lust radiated off Jacques in waves, so thick you could feel it on the air like a spectral presence. And it was all for you. He indeed thrilled you and also frightened you just a little, just enough for that rush of adrenaline to make you giddy. He certainly knew what he was doing, playing this little game of yours, or he had read your desires as clearly as a script and played his role to perfection. Sweat shone on his chest through the open vee in his shirt, a blush tinting his chest and neck. He looked voracious, driven mad by his desire. Jacques awakened the animal part of your brain that civilized society had tried for millennia to tame away, the part of you that wanted to be captured, taken, and utterly ravaged. Jacques was enjoying this even more, his huge chest heaving from the thrill of the hunt. You could see how it sparked a primal urge deep inside of him, probably even more poignant that it did in you. You could also see the evidence of his aching arousal tenting his pants. You were no better off. You had been melting inside all night, it seemed.

Backing away from him, you took a few deep breaths as you prepared to run again, unable to rein your pulse back down from a gallop. He registered your excitement and winked at you, enjoying your game. Laughing, you bounded away then skipped into a run that carried you further along the trail and deeper into the welcoming mystery of the woods.

The trail narrowed and became overgrown as the forest closed in around you. Deeper inside the forest, the woods grew wilder, much as the man chasing you was growing wilder with every pursuing step. You knew he was closing in on you swiftly. You slowed enough to look behind you. You were just in time to see Jacques lowering his massive body as he lunged at you with a growl. His shoulder connected with your waist as his strong arms gripped you, tackling you to the ground beneath him. He was careful with you. He’d never actually tackle you with his full force or risk hurting you. His arm hit the ground hard beneath you, cushioning your body when you met the cold wet snow. His heavy body covered you with enough weight to pin you but not quite enough to crush you. 

Laying on your back beneath his sweaty body, your arms flew around him. One hand fisted harshly into his damp hair and one hand dug sharp nails into his muscular shoulder, earning a groan in response. Jacques crashed his lips down against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, his hot tongue twining with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. He kissed you hungrily, licking into your mouth and catching your lips between his teeth. He brought an enormous hand to your neck, again wrapping around your throat easily, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken and pound against his palm, adding to the effect of being captured.

“Do you like making me chase after you?” he asked into your mouth. “You must, since you’ve teased me for years. The torment was almost more than I could stand. Do you know how hard it was for me to resist taking what I know you wanted to give me?”

“I like being chased,” you whispered back. Feeling his weight press down upon you as you kissed, your legs fell open to invite him to settle between them. “But I like being caught by you even more.”

A low moan rumbled in his chest and he grinned against your mouth. The hand at your neck smoothed down to your breast, kneading you and making you gasp. 

Moving his hand lower, Jacques’s fingers dipped inside your pants, inside your panties, discovering how hot and wet you were already. You were powerless to resist succumbing to him, your body not allowing you to maintain any coy pretenses. Jacques’s mouth moved down to your neck as he plunged two thick fingers into you, curling them firmly against that spot he knew could make you scream. His fingers worked you into a frenzy as his teeth and lips attended to your neck and throat. He began rutting against you, his cock digging into the back of his own hand, which was still making you writhe on his fingers. Even that light movement caused your body to shift on the ground. The snow beneath you had melted, the ground now soupy under your back.

“This is about to get messy if you want me to take you here, fuck you on the ground like an animal,” he said huskily, pulling back from your lips. “Do you want that? The beast from your fantasy? Or I can show you what I’ve always fantasized about doing to you instead. It’s much simpler, I’m afraid.” He kissed you again. “But you’ll like it.”

“You’ve already proven better than my fantasies,” you said, running your hands over the breadth of his back. “I trust your judgment.”

“Hold on,” he told you as he pulled his fingers from you. He collapsed on you and gripped you in a strong bear hug, but you barely had time to feel the heavy weight of him.

The ground fell away beneath you and you squeezed your eyes shut as your stomach swooped in that familiar way. Thunder boomed around you and the whole world seemed to shake from it. The cool air whisked away from you, replaced by a welcoming warmth. The snow and ice of the forest was replaced by the golden glow of a fire dancing inside a marble fireplace. The sky above you was replaced by an arched cathedral ceiling, and the ground beneath you exchanged for crisp sheets on a king bed. The only things that remained from the forest were the silver moonlight peeking in through the tall, arched windows, and Jacques above you, grinning down at you, the feeling of his powerful body covering you. He traced hot kisses down your throat and chest as he rose back off the bed to roughly shrug off his shirt and work his belt free.

The sight of him shirtless was breathtaking, you felt yourself growing wetter just from that sight alone. His chest was glorious. You had never seen a chest so thick and expansive. His shoulders were absurdly broad and made even more impressive by his fit abdomen. The taper of his waist, the lines of muscle along his hips, even the trail of hair descending from his navel, all worked in conjunction to practically drag your eyes down toward his cock. After pulling your shirt off, you centered yourself on the bed and arched your back seductively. Jacques reached for your pants and yanked them the rest of the way off, tossing them aside as he stood over you at the side of the bed. His eyes glistened like whiskey on ice as his gaze caressed your body.

“As many times as I’ve imagined you like this, you’re better,” he said reverently in a voice that was all smoke and gravel.

You watched the muscles in his arms flex as he undid his belt and pants. Without taking his eyes from you, he unceremoniously shoved his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. Towering above you, standing totally naked, he palmed his enormous erection and let you admire the sight of him, the cocky bastard, watching you with his molten gaze. You expected Jacques to have a nice cock, as big as he was everywhere else. You had imagined it embarrassingly often, but the sight of him still made your breath hitch. It was practically monstrous, and deliciously thick. He would have injured you as a schoolgirl, and you couldn’t be entirely certain he wouldn’t now. Another bit of danger he offered. There would be a limit to how rough he could be with you, and you were thankful that he was seasoned enough to know it.

“If you can’t handle me, tell me now.” Of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you.

In response, you held his eyes firmly as you reached to undo your bra, slinging it across the room to be lost with your other discarded clothing. You raised one eyebrow at him, meeting his challenge. Jacques walked to the edge of the bed, pausing briefly to absorb the sight of you as you lay spread before him, the best Christmas gift he had ever received, before he lowered himself to the mattress and crawled over your body.

Eagerly, your legs spread for him again and he settled between them. Jacques caged you in with his impressive arms on either side of your body as he bent over you, a predator over his prey, and kissed at your navel. His kisses were open mouthed and he lavished you with his tongue. He trailed his mouth down until he placed a wet kiss at the top of your pussy, still covered by the lace of your thong. Bringing a hand down to the thin line of fabric at your hip, he yanked it roughly, ripping your thong away from you and tearing it apart with one motion. His aggressive lust had you aching with the need to be filled. Jacques paused and just admired you, the way you glistened with desire. He lowered himself, wanting to kiss you there, taste you, make you cum on his tongue. But you stopped him.

“The first time you make me cum, I want it to be with your cock,” you told him huskily. “I want to feel you inside of me when I cum.”

Jacques grinned up at you before trailing his nose and lips slowly back up the center of your body as he crawled up into position above you. He paused to inhale deeply at your throat, taking in the scent of you and exhaling in a low heady groan. He kissed you passionately and deep. His taste was smokey and lush, making you shiver. His weight was resting on you now, pushing you down into the mattress. You could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tense and flex under your hands as he moved, and his heavy chest pressed against yours, a sharp contrast to his soft lips. The unduly thick head of his cock nudged into you, teasing at your entrance. When you bucked your hips against him, he plunged into you in one fluid stroke. He rolled his hips against you gently, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your nails raked his back as a pornographic moan escaped your lips at the pleasure of being so completely full of him. Jacques’s mouth returned to diligently kiss you as the rolling of his hips became shallow thrusts. When your hips started moving to meet his own in time with his thrusts, he began thrusting into you more passionately.

Jacques propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head. Groaning again at an unabashed volume, he pulled back and slammed his entire length into you. It skirted the line of painful pleasure, but he felt so good. He saw your features rendered beautifully distraught by pleasure and kept that angle and rhythm that he knew was driving you in exactly the direction you wanted. You fluttered and tightened around him, your orgasm imminent. Jacques could feel it. Losing control himself, he fucked you harder, pistoning into you roughly. His whole body tensed when he felt the pulsing orgasm surge through you, shooting through him like a current of pleasure connected the two of you. Jacques’s thrusts grew erratic, his shoulders and arms quivered, and he came moments after you on a deep thrust. You reached to his thick, damp hair, tangling your fingers in it and pulling him down to settle over you. He looked down at you adoringly then kissed you lovingly. Though it was unspoken, the emotion was unmistakable.

After lavishing you slowly and indulgently, he rolled onto his back and pulled you down against his enormous chest. Wrapping the arm beneath you around your waist tightly, he held you in something between a cuddle and a bear hug and caressed you with his free hand. His huge body was hot beneath you, his arms radiating warmth around you, and his lips searing as they gently kissed along your hairline. The man was an absolute fever dream. He could keep you in an erotic stupor for hours if he wanted.

“Where are we?” you asked lazily, drunk on the rush he had given you.

“Normandy,” he purred, his hands gentle and warm on your skin. “My home, precisely speaking.”

“This looks like the inside of a castle,” you said of the bedroom with its stone walls and arched windows.

“You could call it that.” He smirked. “Regardless of the descriptor, it will accommodate us well until the start of term.” He brought his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to look at him. “Provided you’ll accept my invitation to stay with me until then.”

“I’ll need a change of clothes,” you laughed.

“Not for what I have planned,” he laughed too, and rolled back over you again.

Briefly you wondered at the stir you would cause when the pair of you returned to Hogwarts in January. Together. Gossip spread through those enchanted halls like wildfire and you knew a professorial couple would be a source of it for a long time to come. You had no time to dwell on the thought now. Jacques demanded all of your attention elsewhere.

************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some bewitching beauties 🖤

@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @heartlight-starlight @clydesfavoritegirl @celiholland @reveluving @reylokisses @queen-of-elves @kyloremus @looking4mymagicshop @lumberjack00fantasies

#my stuff! #my writing #hogwarts!jacques le gris #jacques le gris x reader #Jacques le gris x you #halloween #winter #best #fic #werewolf

[holdinbacksecrets]

seventeen mtl: who would love to have input in what you wear/do your makeup/your nails/etc? (not in a controlling way, but in a cute way like it makes them feel special that your care about their opinions)

i came back to edit and realized i missed that you requested an mtl… i ended up writing blurbs about the members who immediately came to mind instead… my apologies, anon

jeonghan: whenever you wear a top that exposes your collarbones and shoulders, he’ll suggest a ponytail. (he kisses your forehead and then your cheeks, and you’re surprised to see his own turning pink, but he just finds you so beautiful and loves seeing your face so clearly)

soonyoung: you asked him once what color you should paint your nails, and now he smiles at the sight of your upcoming nail appointment on the calendar. he’s even scrolled pinterest for designs, and it brings him joy to see your face light up, knowing you’re actually happy with his choice. (he appreciates your interest in sharing this with him, and it’s cute to think about a little piece of soonyoung being with you when you’re apart)

seokmin: he loves it when you wear eyeshadow with a tint of glitter on sunny days. he takes your picture, being sure to catch the glimmer enhanced by sunbeams

mingyu: every once in a while, he asks you to wear winged eyeliner, especially when you’re dressed in leather or the two of you have a date night. he finds it so sexy. (imagine him beaming in the doorway, with half his face hidden, trying not to blush or giggle. what a gem)

minghao: as soon as he figures out your style, he starts picking out pieces for you. there’s never any pressure to wear them, but his eyes sparkle when you do. (there’s something about him encouraging your authentic style that’s greatly helped your confidence with fashion)

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fluff #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung fluff #seokmin scenarios #seokmin fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #minghao scenarios #minghao fluff

[tracingpatternswrites]

I got a last line tag from @soloorganaas so I'm going to take that as a sign it's time to start sharing some stuff from my new wip.

So I've been binging MAFS lately, which is how this thing grabbed a hold of me so, well, here it is Married At First Sight - Wolfstar Edition.

Kingsley looked as if he was about to say something when there was a knock at the door, and moments later it was pushed open. “Oh love, look at you,” his mother fussed, all but pulling her husband along behind her. “You look so handsome. Lyall, doesn’t he look handsome?” “Very handsome,” his father repeated, winking at Remus over his mother’s head and Remus felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards into a half-smile. “How’re you doing, lad?” “Okay,” Remus said, forcing a smile as he dropped his gaze to his mother who was watching him intently. “I promise, I’m alright.” “He’s just nervous,” Mary said, ignoring Remus’ look as she passed on two more champagne flutes. “Got it into his head he’s not sexy enough for his mystery husband.” “Thanks for that,” Remus grumbled, but Mary simply sent him a dazzling smile in return. “What’s that nonsense?” his mother huffed as she smoothed out the wrinkles of Remus’ suit. “You look just like your Da did when he was your age, and he had enough girls hanging around him. Had to beat them off with a stick, didn’t I love?” she didn’t wait for Lyall to respond, but Remus thought he could see a little blush beneath his father’s full beard. “I think any lad would be lucky to have you, wouldn’t you say Kingsley?” She turned her bright blue eyes on Remus’ ex-boyfriend, expectantly, and he nodded obediently, his dark eyes glittering. “He’s a stunner, Mrs. L.” “If he wasn’t batting for the wrong team I’d take him for myself in a heartbeat,” quipped Mary, her face splitting into a smirk. “Oh, and if I had a dick, of course, can’t see Remus going more than a week without that.” “I hate you all,” announced Remus, his cheeks blazing as the others laughed. “Don’t be silly,” his mother said as she gave his arm a light pat. “Nothing wrong with a healthy sex life.” “Ma,” Remus groaned but his mother continued, unperturbed. “There’s no denying there has to be a spark, love. It’s going to be an important part of your marriage, and you should be able to talk openly about it. Haven’t I always said that? One of the reasons that me and your Da have been together for as long as we have is that he never ceases to surprise me with–“ “MA!” Remus interrupted loudly, throwing Mary a dirty look as she cackled. “Good on you, Mr. L, gotta keep the Mrs happy.”

Passing on a no-pressure tag to @squintclover, @heartofspells, @theresthesnitch

#my writing #mafs wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar

[ceilingfan5]

'BEEF BUTTON' AND 'THE FEAR' PLEASE (I'm yelling because I'm excited) with Taakitz.

Thank you so much (both for the list and all the fabulous writing you give us to devour!)

Kravitz can do this. He can. It’s easy, probably. Normal people would find it easy, and he’s normal enough, ergo, fucking, do it, coward. He squeezes the pinback button a little too tight in his hands and inhales when the stupid thing pokes him, because it’s sharp, because it’s a button. Stupid. Normal, though, so normal, and regular? Categorically. 

Hey, you dropped this. Easy. He can use that smoldery voice he practices in the shower. Hey, you dropped this? Minor edit, more inviting. Maybe? Is this yours? I found it on the floor. Very sexy. Tenouttaten, layable. Bangtastic. His fuckable nature and awkward swag are legendarical. He’s gonna floor this whole fucking cafeteria with just how awesome this interaction goes. 

God, he is sweating. If it was some rando, it would be easy enough. Well, not like, Easy easy. He’d take it to lost and found. Or? Honestly? Keep it. It’s not like some show or a dumb thing. This button is bright red and just says BEEF. That rules, what the fuck? Kravitz needs to understand. So he has to interact. It’s math. Probably. He graduated and never looked back, honestly. 

Why the BEEF? Why? What could possibly necessitate such a strong statement?? But this guy isn’t just some rando, he’s Dreamy…. Like, legitimately. Like, magazineworthy, like, commercially, like Kravitz has run into him four and a Half times and thinks of him OFTEN, you  know, #normally, and is categorically regular about imagining what that long pink hair looks like out of that thick braid that could be a weapon, and that charming gap in his teeth, and the bootyshorts that say CONSTANTLY ALIVE, or that skirt that left glitter all over the floor, or the platform shoes that rattled full of actual aquarium gravel and gummy sharks,  or- or- or- or-

Beef. It’s what’s for winners. Winners who best social anxiety and return the cool button to the hot guy. Winners who can talk words good and do tasks and complete objectives. 

He’s rooted to the fucking spot with The Fear ™. But he can do this. He’s gonna do it right now.

Aaaaand go.

Nope. This time.  AAAAAAAaaand go. Shoot, one more. Third time’s the charm. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand- 

“Oi-” he says, wincing internally at the sound that comes out of his face, but somehow he has…already committed to the bad accent. “Did you drop this?”

“Huh?” he gets in return. Taako looks up at him from his book and wrinkles his nose, and his freckles dance, and he is the sun, and Kravitz should have worn sunscreen today. “What?”

“This button, the BEEF button, it’s yours? Seems like something you’d have. On your person. Or objects you possess. Is it?” He is sweating. Why did he wear all black today? Well, he always wears all black, but why?

“Oh, yeah! Thanks, man.” Taako holds out his hand to take it. Kravitz is pretty sure his name is Taako. When he orders his iced coffee drinks he half-sings T-double A- K- O. And Kravitz has NOT been writing it in his journal like a lovesick middle schooler. That would be sad. And he doesn’t even own a gel pen. So there.  

“No problem,” Kravitz’s accent warbles and changes, and Taako kind of tilts his head at him. “What’s it for? What- what’s the BEEF?”

Taako laughs. 

“It’s vintage,” he says. “God knows. This ancient beef rose before me and will fall after I am gone. The BEEF is eternal, you know? What’s your handle, scented candle?”

“Kravitz,” Kravitz manages. “And…cinnamon sugar, maybe.”

Taako blinks. 

“F-, uh, for the candle? Did you not-”

“Ohh,” Taako says. “Taako.” He jabs a thumb at his chest. “Mmmmmm…Spice rack.”

“Spice rack?” Kravitz is so taken aback he drops the accent entirely. “Like…oregano and garlic powder?”

“Absolutely,” Taako says. “Everybody is like, what smells so good, what are you cooking? And you hit ‘em with the fact that they wanna eat wax. Hilarious.” 

“Avant garde, even.” Kravitz shakes his head. “I, uh,” and nothing else comes out of his mouth. Taako lets him hang there for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then snorts. 

“You busy later, homeboy? I’ve been meaning to go to that new restaurant, but I thought it would be weird to go alone?”

“Burrito Boyfriend? I, hadn’t, plans- yes? I would love to get a boyfriend- I mean- I would love to get a burrito with you. Taako. Yes.”

Taako laughs hard enough that he makes a beautiful noise, and he covers his mouth, but too late. Kravitz is in love with him. 

Fuck. And all because of a little ground beef.  

#taakitz #tazb #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #taakitz fic #the adventure zone #taz #thank you!!

[schnuffel-danny]

Jack being active in the rich celebrity fandom that has most definitely built up around Vlad is such a funny idea to me, I'm sorry I know parasocial relationships are problematic, but those celebrity fan facebook groups comprised of middle aged women making the shittiest, heart-wrenchingly authentic, glitter gif edits of sexy rich guys are peak internet to me, and I know deep down in my soul Jack would definitely admin at least one of those for the Vlad fanclub

[thelargefrye]

LOSERLINE is a mature rated video game that focuses around nine lovers as they are forced to experience all the sides to fame and are even forced to choose between their relationship or their fans.

PAIRING : POLY!ROCKER!ATEEZ X ROCKER!F!READER

GENRE : ROCKSTAR AU, ANGST, SMUT, SOME SLICE OF LIFE MOMENTS

WARNINGS : LANGUAGE, DRINKING, SMOKING, FIGHTING / BLOOD, MENTIONS OF STALKING, MENTAL HEALTH, SEX EACH CHAPTER WILL ALSO HAVE THEIR OWN WARNINGS

ARTIST PROFILE | CAREER MAP |

CHAPTERS … ( in chronological order )

TRUTH OR PIERCING ( prompt )

SNAKE BITES ( prompt / 18+ )

LIPSTICK ( prompt )

LOVE & SMOKE ( drabble )

BODY GLITTER ( prompt / 18+ )

ARTICLE : LOSERLINE FILES LAWSUIT AGAINST KQ

ARTICLE : LOSERLINE WINS AGAINST KQ . . .

HEADCANONS / REACTIONS …

REACTS TO Y/N’S FANBOYS / SASAENGS

REACTS TO SEXY TIKTOK EDITS OF Y/N

HOW THEY FUCK YOU (18+)

RANDOM HEADCANONS ... 001 | 002 |

OTHER …

THIS IS LOSERLINE PLAYLIST | ALBUM COVERS | NARI PROFILE |

#loserline. #📽 ─ series . #ONGOING. #polyteez.

[mon-petit-coeur-noir]

Tags used:

#straps

#cuffed

#collar

#lingerie

#stockings

#glovelove

#kneeling

#corset top

#sheer delight

#all time favorite

#reading is sexy

#maid

#drink up

#milklove

#teatime

#kitten

#dog

#animals

#fruit

#discoballs

#luxe aesthetic

#mark me up

#lap sitting

#down the rabbit hole

#little red riding hood

#mirror mirror on the wall

#hit the floor

#surrender

#skirt twirl

#lip fetish

#hands

#eyes

#red head

#piano love

#doorway

#keyhole

#scrabble

#chess

#games we play

#pooltable

#playing cards

#rocking horse

#equestrian

#play me

#praise

#cage

#words to live by

#women are art

#art

#embrace

#chest

#beardlove

#love tap

#anticipation

#bunny girl

#face mask

#facemask

#naturism

#ritual

#wax play

#honey

#trench coat

#leather jacket

#backseat

#shoelover

#suggested serving

#bathtub

#mustard

#red velvet

#green velvet

#blue velvet

#velvet

#red love

#redlove

#neon lights

#lights

#festive

#fireplace

#rope bondage

#ropebondage

#camera

#television

#latex

#blind fold

#ribbons

#ribbon

#handnecklace

#pearls

#jewelry

#smoke show

#daisies

#my edit

#staircase

#glitter

#collarbones

#clavicles

#hip cleavage

#red lip

#always a reblog

#kitchen

#under the sea

#at sea

#movie theater

#shadow play

#I'm a sucker

#candy hearts

#valentines

#gif

#angel wings

#shedevil

#masquerade mask

#backseam

#grab my hair

#tarot cards

#polka dots

#painter

#you have my heart

#balloons

#butterfly

#gold leaf

#midas touch

#phone

#skull

#snake tw

#friendly skies

#aftercare

#clothespin

#wartenberg wheel

#temperature play

#knife kink

#locations

#en garde

#audiophile

#elevator

#sunglasses

#lace lover

#teddy

#comfort objects

#moth

#fingers in mouths

#my namesake

#teach me a lesson

Artists Tagged (this isn’t comprehensive just those artists who I have 3+ posts)

#CorwinPrescott

#Manara Milo

#marius sperlich

#ruslan lobanov

#laura sheridan

#afourchamberedheart

#marilynminter

#Nicolas Guerin

#Scvmrat

#kneeling #stockings #all time favourite #love tap #women are art #words to live by #piano love #grab my hair #you have my heart #mark me up #drink up #friendly skies #red lip #red love #maid #at sea #hit the floor #surrender #midastouch #my edit #beardlove #fruit #gif #cage #cuffed #television #tags #reading is sexy #nicolas guerin #en garde