Imbecile

drsallysparrow  asked:

Draco, Theo, Blaise

Hermione: “This is ridiculous! I’m not playing this game.”

Harry: “I’d say marry Theo, fuck Draco, and kill Draco.”

Ron: “Mate, I think there was someone in there twice.”

Harry: “Was there?”

Ron: “Yes.”

Hermione: [muttering to herself] “As if I’d be expected to have sex with any of those miscreants, honestly.”

Harry: “Um, marry Draco, fuck Draco, kill Draco.”

Ron: “You did it again. Only worse.”

Harry: “Why, what am I saying?”

Hermione: “Honestly, this game is ridiculous, I can’t believe you would even ask me something this unbelievably imbecilic - ”

Harry: [interrupting] “Is it because I said I’d kill Draco?”

Ron: “No mate.” [He sighs.] “That’s not it.”

Hermione: “FINE! I WOULD FUCK DRACO, OKAY? YOU’VE DRAGGED IT OUT OF ME WITH YOUR INCESSANT QUESTIONING!”

[Draco pokes his head in.]

Draco: “What the fuck are you yelling about, Granger? I can hear your disgusting heavenly siren-like voice from across the corridor!”

Ron: [mumbling to himself] “Fine, I’d fuck him too.”

Draco: “What?”

Ron: “What?”

Luna: [whispering] “I knew it.”

STEEEEPH THE BLONDE BATGIRL (batgirl)

HAD VERY BRIGHT HAIR (like pure gold!)

AND IF YOU EVER SAW IT (saw it)

YOU MIGHT EVEN SAY IT GLOWED (like a lightbulb!)

ALL OF THE OTHER BATS (bats)
USED TO LAUGH AND CALL HER NAMES (like her real name–screw that “no names on the field rule)

THEY NEVER LET POOR STEPH (steph)

BE A ROBIN (well at least not for very long and then she didn’t get a memorial case)

THEN ONE REAL BAD DAY IN GOTHAM

BATGIRL CAME TO SAY (hi i’m cass)

“STEPH YOU ARE PRETTY AWESOME–PLEASE BE BATGIRL FOR ME?”

THEN ALL THE BATS LOVED HER (loved her)

AS THEY SHOUTED OUT WITH GLEE (brown you are an imbecile) 

STEPH THE BLONDE BATGIRL (batgirl)

YOU’LL GO DOWN IN BAT-HISTORRRYYYYYYYYYY (unless we reboot the universe)

anonymous asked:

Hey! I absolutely love your blog! ❤ Can you request an Antoine Griezmann smut on the beach plz??? Thank you/ Danke!!! ❤

hello! sorry i took centuries writing / posting your imagine (and it’s not even on the beach bc i’m an imbecile who can’t read apparently, i’m sooo sorry — but i do have another smut on the beach request open anyway, so you’ll be able to read ‘your’ imagine then. i have, however, written another smut imagine and i hope you’ll like it nonetheless! 😕🔫😂💙


Antoine leans back against the doorframe, watching the countless people in his house dance, drink and laugh. The low bass of the deafening music causes the floor to vibrate beneath his feet and most of the lights are switched off, replaced by colorful ones that resemble those in clubs. His parties have always been legendary, even back when he was playing for Sociedad.

He spots you talking to a few friends you have in common, a tight, short dress hugging your gorgeous body and high heels on your feet. Your lips are a sinful red and when you looks over at Antoine, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips, he grins back. 

Keeping eye contact, Antoine lifts his beer bottle to his lips to take a sip, and winces at how he’s let it go warm. He’s half a mind to just down it in one go to finish it off when its suddenly plucked away from his hand and a newer, colder bottle replaces it.

You smile at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Having fun?” Antoine asks and stretches out his hand to curl his fingers around your hip. Then, he pulls you closer to his body as he takes a sip of the beer you’ve brought him.

“What do you think?” you mumbles into his neck, leaning your body against his, “I’m with a guy who I really want to fuck me later, and there’s good music.”

Grinning, Antoine lets his hand slide down to the small of your back, and lower, lower, lower. “Oh, you want me to fuck you?” He gives your ass a light squeeze, causing you to squeak quietly and stand on your tiptoes to be even closer to him. You graze the skin behind his ear with your teeth, and hum in response.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Antoine says, then slaps your butt gently. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink.”

You follow him into the kitchen, the only room that isn’t shoulder to shoulder with people — friends of his, most of them other football players you’ve met once or twice before. It’s thanks to his social skills (and probably his good looks, too) that he knows so many people — he is very easy to get along with and polite, after all.

Antoine walks to the giant fridge, opens one of its two doors, and grabs a bottle of what looks like prime tequila. It’s most likely hidden inside of there from partygoers. “This alright?”

“Sure. It’s almost like you’re trying to impress me, Antoine”

His grin turns into a lazy smirk. “Oh, yeah? Is it working?” he asks as he pours the alcohol into two shot glasses.

You don’t really think he’s trying to impress you — you don’t need to be impressed anymore; Antoine knows all too well that you’ll be giving it up for him with just a snap of his fingers. You wouldn’t if he were just some guy, but he’s your boyfriend — and has been for almost three years now. But this feels like foreplay, and you like the flirting. And Antoine is fun.

“Keep pouring shots and maybe I’ll tell you,” you murmur while taking the glass from his hand, and then tip your head back as you let the liquid burn first on you tongue and then down your throat. You lick the taste of the tequila off your lips, Antoine’s eyes following the path of your tongue. “Or, even better: dance with me.”

Without hesitation, Antoine holds his hand out for you to take. When you do he leads you through the crowd and to the dance floor (the very spacious area between his living room and dining room, actually, cleared of furniture). The music is pulsing against the walls, switching to something low and dirty when he turns you around to face him and then pulls you close.

He smiles as you wrap your arms around his neck before your bodies start moving in sync, perfect and slow and, well, fuck.

You pulls him closer, allowing him to slot a knee between your thighs, and when you grind at it experimentally, you can’t help but throw your head back at the feeling. You just hope that nobody’s watching.

Antoine stares at your neck for a second, spurred on by the pleasure you so obviously experience, before his hands come to cup your butt, squeezing gently, and slithering up over your short dress, just enough for him to feel the lace of your panties underneath it. 

Merde, Y/N,” he breathes against your ear, making you squirm in his arms. In response, you let out a hardly audible moan of appreciation, and Antoine’s head is swimming a little. It’s nothing compared to how you were making him feel in that moment though, so he leans down to press your lips together, just like he’s wanted to ever since you’ve handed him the beer. You tastes like tequila and heat and, yeah, all Antoine can think about is taking you somewhere more private.

He loses himself in the feeling, sucking on your tongue and biting your bottom lip and enjoying the needy little noises coming from somewhere deep in your throat. His cock is hot and hard already, aching a little since it’s pressed against his inseam, but Antoine’s enjoying himself too much to break away from the kiss now. When you do break apart though, he’s a bit breathless.

“You feel so good,” you gasp into his mouth, proving your point by hooking your fingers through his belt loops to pull him closer and letting out another quiet moan at the feeling of him pressing against you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I want you.”

You lean close to kiss Antoine’s mouth softly, lightly, and swallow the little growl your actions draw from his throat. He’s smiling when you pull away with a quiet pop. 

If he wasn’t so aroused, Antoine would be pissed that you’re the one to lead. But he is way too hard to think about that right now, his mind circling around nothing but what he knows will happen once you’re in his bedroom upstairs.

With your smile still intact, you let go of Antoine’s neck and turn around, you bottom lip caught between your teeth as you press your butt against his front. You can feel his cock through his jeans once you start swaying again.

Antoine was right; merde.

He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the friction his jeans creates between your ass and his boxers, then reaches around to flatten his hand against your belly. The next second, he feels his hips jerk, the crowd around you and the deafening music turning into white noise in his head. Shit, he’s so fucking gone.

“Closer, Antoine, closer,” you mumble, head leaned against his shoulder and hand closing around his neck as you move against him, the low bass of the music your guide. You push back harder, moaning. Antoine has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that you’re practically — and very shamelessly, at that — rubbing yourself off on him in public. He doesn’t think anyone notices, thank God, as it’s too crowded for anybody to see what’s going on, but still, you’re not alone.

He thinks you’re hot. And a fucking tease. Which, yeah. It turns him on so much that he’s afraid he might explode — and that would not be all that great, considering he’s not a thirteen-year-old anymore. 

Instead of replying, Antoine lets his hand travel lower until his fingertips dance along your front, almost touching you right between your legs. It knocks the breath out of you, your head falling back against his shoulder again, lolling to the side and eyes fluttering close.

Antoine takes it as an invitation, doesn’t hesitate before biting down on the soft skin of your neck and sucking what will be an impressive love bite into your skin (a love bite … okay, maybe he is still thirteen, somewhere deep down). 

He hears you moan again, your voice huskier than before. Everything inside him tingles with want, but he holds back, only allows himself to drag his thumb across your clothed vagina. The double sensation causes your hips to buckle into his hand, so he uses his other hand to press against your tummy, holding you to him.

“So eager,” he teases, letting the tip of his tongue outline the mark he’s left on your neck, and you whine. Antoine sighs appreciatively at the sound. 

“Your hand is on me,” you pant, your breath hitting his jaw, “of course I’m eager.” Pushing your hips back into his in a slow, rolling motion, you add, “And I’m not the only one.”

Antoine merely groans in response.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say after a moment, “I want you to fill me up and make me feel you for days.”

“God, yes,” Antoine replies. “Upstairs?”

***

Antoine crowds you against the wall outside of his bedroom, mouthing along your jawline while letting his hand slide lower on your back. You squeak when it reaches your ass, squeezing, and making you flush violently.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” you moan once you feel Antoine’s teeth scrape your neck, causing you to push your hips against his hard. Antoine growls quietly but exhales audibly, the touch of hot air sending goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.

“I will, don’t worry.” He cups your jaw with his hand to tilt it to the side, giving him more space on your neck to place sucking, open-mouthed kisses. Lust is driving him crazy, and really all he wants is to finally get you horizontal and out of this dress.

Immediately, with his lips to your neck, he coaxes sweet, little whimpers out of you. Antoine briefly wonders what other delicious sounds he could make you let out tonight.

After pulling back, Justin nearly groans when he’s met with the state of your face — flushed, your plump lips swollen and wet, and the urge to wreck you further shoots through his body like a jolt of adrenaline. “Bedroom, now.”

In less than a second, you’re in Antoine’s bedroom, uncluttered and clean, with the exception of a few shirts hanging from a leathern armchair and an unmade king-size bed which faces a large glass window, offering a magnificent view of Madrid’s landscape. There are three doors; one that leads to the hallway, one leading to his own bathroom and one to his walk-in closet. It all reeks of money, really, and you shake your head.

“Are you okay? You look weirded out.”

You nod, “Still weirded out by how huge your house is. I’ll never get over this.” While you take one more look around his room, Antoine takes one more look at you — you really do look good in that dress, with your endless legs and those heels. Shit, the heels. He’ll tell you to keep them on, maybe.

Before he can entertain any more thoughts about your naked body, though, you turn around and step closer to him. You pull him close to brush your lips together in a gentle, chaste kiss that leaves you both a little dizzy. “I want you to lay me down and fuck me until I forget my own name.”

He wouldn’t admit it when asked, but Antoine’s pretty sure his eyes are a little glassy with lust as his lips part in a sigh.

But, fuck, it’s you who’s in control right now, again. So, in order to change that, Antoine only nods before crowding in on you, causing you to take a step back. He keeps coming closer, his chest pressing against yours, until he’s backed you up towards the bed, then pulls you down on it and sprawls you out on top of him to rock their hips together.

“Oh god, please,” you whimper at the contact, your parted lips connecting with Antoine’s for a moment. You were nothing short of eager to give him what he wanted — wriggling down to sit on his thighs, you pushed his shirt up, revealing his long, muscled torso. An appreciative smile stretches your lips. “You are so hot.”

Not bothering to say anything to that, Antoine supports himself on one of his elbows, his other arm stretched out to allow him to curl his long fingers around your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You, meanwhile, unzip your dress and let it fall to the sheets next to you, then leaning into Antoine’s body willingly. He unclasps your bra, watches it slide down your arms before running his tongue across his lips when his gaze flickers to your breasts.

Unable to help himself, he leans closer to flick his tongue over one of your nipples, just as pink as your lips. He’s rewarded with one of your pretty, sultry moans.

“Come on, don’t stop,” you plead, hands curved against his shoulders and nails biting into his skin as you start moving your hips against his slowly.

Biting back a groan, Antoine wraps his lips around the hardened bud and tugs on it gently, running his tongue around it and scraping it just barely with his teeth. Your hips are shifting on top of him, and fuck, he needs to get out of those jeans.

Antoine swirls his tongue around it again, making you arch your back in pleasure.

“Like that, do you?” he asks, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and shit, his voice is hoarse as fuck. However, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply because he’s already switching, suckling on your other nipple the same way he has on the first one.

Every single sound that he draws out from you like that goes straight to his cock. He feels like he’s been hard for weeks but there’s no way he’s stopping to undress now — he can’t get enough of the way you are rocking your hips against his unsteadily, soft moans falling from your lips and your fingers still scratching at his shoulders.

With a smirk, Antoine flips you over so that he is on top, continuing his assault on your nipples until it is almost too much for you to handle if your constant moaning and squirming underneath him is anything to go by. But Antoine wants her to fall apart.

“Please, oh fuck— please, do something, I—,” your breath hitches when he starts massaging your left breast while his mouth is working on the other one, “I need to feel you.”

Just for a second, Antoine stops, “If you’re not feeling me now, then I’m doing something wrong.”

Exasperated, you throw your head back. “You know what I mean. Please, I— please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” With that, Antoine rocks his hips against yours, hard. Your mouth falls open, and your by now trembling fingers reach down between your bodies to cup him through his jeans, squeezing just hard enough for it not to hurt. Antoine’s hips stutter into your hand, a groan rolling off his tongue.

“We need to get you out of those,” you mention. Before you have even finished the sentence, your fingers are already pulling the zipper down, your bottom lip between your teeth in concentration. Antoine stares at your mouth. He needs something to distract him so he won’t start humping your hand right then and there, and the way your teeth latch onto your pink lips is quite a sight to behold.

“Hurry up,” he purrs.

It doesn’t take you long to rid him of his jeans, and, like the thoughtful girl you are, you pull his boxers down along with them. Immediately, Antoine’s lips are on yours, kissing you hot and wet. It’s no pretty kiss; there’s tongue and teeth and loud breaths, but it does things to Antoine that he is sure you feel pressing between your legs — of course, you do. 

And because Antoine likes hot and wet, he reaches into your panties and cups you. You are so wet already, and his sudden touch sends a mix of irregular breaths and curse words to leave your mouth.

Your hips buckle up, pressing yourself against his hand while your head tilts back in pleasure. You moan and wiggle when Antoine hasn’t started moving his fingers yet. “Please,” is all you say, all you need to say, before he runs his thumb across your clit. You moan again, loudly and sultry as fuck.

“Oh, god. Yes, just like that.”

Antoine’s muscles in his back ripple as he quickens his movements, rubbing your wetness all over you in order to prepare you for what’s to come, and then pushes a finger inside of you. You’re tight around him — a hot tightness that he can’t wait to sink into completely.

Your nails scratch his back as you arch up into him, mouth falling open and eyes falling close. You spread your legs even more for him, and start to meet his thrusts with your hips, rolling them against him.

Antoine watches you shudder, listens to you moan, and memorizes the sounds you make, locks them away somewhere in the back of his head. He dips his head to kiss you, swallows your moans and fingers you harder. Your hands grip his upper arms, curl around his biceps like you’re holding on for dear life.

It’s only when Antoine notices your breaths becoming more shallow and your thighs trembling that he stops, pulling his fingers out.

“Please, fuck me,” you say breathlessly.

Not finding it in him to tease you any further, Antoine climbs between your legs and runs his hands up your thighs, just admiring. Your legs seem to go on forever, and fuck, he wants them wrapped around his waist. “Ready?”

You nod quickly. “Yes,” you choke out, spreading your legs even wider. Antoine’s mind drifts off to you in his jersey for a split second, before he returns back to reality, placing his hands on both of your knees to angle your legs. Then, he rubs the head of his cock back and forth across your entrance to prepare you before lining himself up.

He pushes inside slowly, pressing his lips together when the head pops through the ring of muscle. Your eyes close, your body tensing up. Antoine begins to stroke your thigh, shooting you a reassuring smile and waiting for you to relax around him before he moves again. With slow, short jerks of his hips he inches in until, a few seconds later, he’s flush against your hips.

He leans down to kiss along your face and cheeks, giving you time to adjust. “You okay?” he whispers against your lips, then mouthes along the underside of your jaw.

Your hands start stroking along his back, breathing in sync with Antoine’s, till you give him a nod and press a kiss to his collarbone. “Yes, of course, go. I’m okay.”

While beginning to move, Antoine tilts your head up with his nose, kissing you sweet and dirty and licking his way into your mouth. He feels your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into you, swallowing down the little whimpers you’re making.

God, he feels so good.

Eventually, you need to breathe, so Antoine pulls back and lifts his head back up, resting one hand on your hip and his other lower arm on the pillow next to your head. He rolls his hips against yours slowly, pushing his cock deeper into the hot, tight clutch of your body. It feels fucking great, especially with you pushing back against him.

It’s unhurried, like Antoine’s got all the time in the world to fuck you like this — slow and sweet and hot so you both tingle with the need for more more more.

“Oh, god, faster, please— you feel so good, uh, fuck me faster.”

Antoine groans at how utterly wrecked your voice sounds, laced with lust and shaken by your fast breathing and soft moans. He shifts up on his knees, plants his hands on either side of your shoulders, and moves faster, speeds up his thrusts and deepening the angle.

You moan loudly, hands clawing at his shoulders, his neck, his back, as you move  against him. “More, please, I—” 

You throw your head back when Antoine finds your sweet spot upon changing the angle again. He nudges it with the head of his cock hard enough to have you blowing up towards him, arms wrapping around his neck and teeth sinking into his shoulders in order to try and stifle your moans.

Antoine can feel his release burning low in his stomach, his cock flexing and throbbing as he grows closer to climax. You’re so tight and warm, but he needs to hold back and wait, so he rolls to a stop for a moment in an attempt to catch his breath and ease back. He wants to fuck you for as long as possible and really, that’s how it always is because you’re you — you, who he loves so much he sometimes feels overwhelmed by his own feelings. You, who looks absolutely breathtaking right now. You, who he can imagine spending the rest of his life with. 

So, as soon as he can focus and therefore doesn’t have to worry about coming too soon anymore, he continues to thrust into you, losing himself in the now familiar rhythm once more. You squirm and moan beneath him, touching him wherever your hands can reach, and moves up the bed when Antoine’s thrusts become harder and harder.

He plants his hands against the headboard of his bed so he won’t smack into it with every move.

“God damn, you feel so good, wanna fuck you forever,” he mumbles, rocking hard enough for his abs to burn with the effort.

“You’re one — oh — to talk ,” you moan in response, hips pushing up to meet his thrusts. You tighten your legs around him, pushing him deeper into you.

You rock into each other until eventually you arch your back and come with a loud moan, Antoine’s name on your lips, and clench hard around him as you ride out your orgasm for what seems like an eternity.

Antoine grits his teeth at the feeling, grabbing the headboard more firmly to give him the leverage to dive harder into you, needing to get off finally. You are still moaning and clutching at him, allowing Antoine to fuck you as if you just can’t get enough of the feeling of him buried deep inside you. Honestly, you can’t.

It’s only one, two, three thrusts later that he comes, comes so hard that his head swims for a second, eyes blind. With one last, weak thrust, he collapses down onto you, arms too shaky to hold him anymore.

“Oh, god,” you moan, running your hand through Antoine’s hair and kissing his shoulder.

“Yeah,” is all he replies.

noshitnoms  asked:

I legit just bought a pillow. It came in pillow shaped packaging with a zip and a little green handle for ease of carrying. ~*aesthetique*~

What kind of… you could just. You could just carrying it in your arms. Who thought of this. 

“We need a pillow shaped package.” 

“Well why not use a regular bag.” 

“You fucking imbecile, because it’s not shaped like a pillow and it doesn’t have a green handle or zipper.”

“You didn’t even mention a green handle, okay, sold.”

But at the same time I’m oddly charmed by this… it sounds really cute… with a lil zipper and green handle… damn, they’re doing something right then I guess.