crisp blouse

City Trippin'

Cigar smoke, stale beer, urine…

Pizza, car exhaust, french fries,

An old man feeding pigeons…

The click of high heels, Halston

Time stops…all heads turn…

Chestnut hair, tight gray skirt,
crisp white blouse, jaw-dropping
curves, a hint of red lipstick…

I could not see her eyes, God how
I wanted to see her eyes…

Time starts again as she enters
an office building…

The old man with the pigeons
grins at me and winks.

Azuki Lynn


Peggy: As Kidada grew older, it became clear that she wouldn’t be comfortable unless she was around kids who looked more like her. So I searched for a private school that had a good proportion of black students, and when she was 12, I found one.

Kidada: That changed everything. I’d go to my black girlfriends’ houses and–I wanted their life! I lived in a gated house in a gated neighborhood, where playdates were: “My security will call your security.” Going to my black friends’ houses, I saw a world that was warm and real, where families sat down for dinner together. At our house, Rashida and I often ate dinner on trays, watching TV in Anna’s room, because our dada was composing and performing at night and Mom sat in on his sessions.

Rashida: At this time, anyone looking at Kidada and me would have seen two very different girls. I wore my navy blue jumper and crisp white blouse; K wore baggy Adidas sweatsuits and door-knocker earrings. My life was school, school, school. I’m with Bill Cosby: It’s every bit as black as it is white to be a nerd with a book in your hand. 

Kidada: The fact that Rashida was good at school while I was dyslexic intimidated me and pushed me more into my defiant role. I was ditching classes and going to clubs.

Rashida: About this time, Kidada was replacing me with younger girls from Fairfax who she could lead and be friends with.

Kidada: They were my little sisters, as far as I was concerned. After I graduated from high school, I found my passion: trend forecasting. I enrolled at L.A.’s Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, and my academic problems went out the window. All it took was finding something I loved for me to get A’s! While I was there, designer Tommy Hilfiger noticed a cover of Vibe magazine I had styled. He offered me a job in New York, being his muse, and he left me work in every part of his company–designing, marketing, advertising, modeling. Tommy got urban music. I was working with the hottest hip-hop acts: TLC, Snoop Dogg, Usher.

While Rashida was going to Jewish religious services with her boyfriend, Kidada found a new “little sister” in the young singer Aaliyah.

Kidada: Aaliyah and I talked on the phone dozens of times a day if we weren’t together. I never bought one of anything–I bought one for me and one for Aaliyah. So did she.

Rashida: But instead of bonding with Kidada, I rejected her–not because I wanted to, but because my boyfriend was telling me not to be dominated by my older sister. My boyfriend didn’t want me to be at Kidada’s 25th birthday party, so I skipped it. When I called her to apologize, she was so beyond anger, she murmured, “Whatever.”

Kidada: That hurt. A lot. But I had Aaliyah.

Peggy: I loved watching Kidada and Aaliyah together. They were going to be lifelong best friends. They wanted to get married in a double wedding, have their first kids together.
Rashida: When I heard about Aaliyah’s death, I dropped everything and went straight to L.A. Kidada collapsed in my arms. She said, “Now you’re going to have to step in and be my little sister.” I said, “I’m ready.” Being together during Kidada’s must vulnerable time made us realize we were irreplaceable to each other.

Stay Professional!


You managed to get your first job at a prestigious and famous marketing firm. Nothing was going to stop you from working there. A few distractions may be problematic but.. there was a man that stood out unconventionally well. Despite being the CEO’s only son, his face alone is enough to win over the nation’s heart 10x over. An interesting romance that’s sure to get you screaming.

Fluff & Angst: Jungkook x Reader

A/N: Hey! I’ve been MIA but I’m back with something for you :)

“Yes Ma’am I understand.” You lowered your head politely and stuck on a smile that tortured your face muscles. You were lucky enough to land a job straight out of university and you knew it was going to be tough but.. the extent as to which you were being used and bullied by higher ups was unbearable.

“If you understand then don’t make this mistake again! You ruined my morning.” The head of department of advertising scolded you over a small mistake of pouring too little milk into her coffee.

After she left, you lifted your head up and rolled your eyes at the amount of bullshit you dealt with on a daily basis. It was kind of getting tiring.

“Should you really be pulling that face right now?” An unfamiliar and cool-toned whisper sent shivers down your spine.

“No sir! My mistake, my apologies.” You immediately brought the radiant smile back to your face, not knowing who it was but it didn’t matter because everyone here was basically of much higher power than yourself. You had to show respect even if it killed your hidden inflated ego.

You heard the heavy clacks of his Armani shoes as his strides led him closer to you. He carefully examined your petite frame in comparison to his tall, dark and handsome nature.

“Are you new here?” His low tone sounded velvety and smooth as dark chocolate. It felt like eerie music to your ears.

“Yes sir.. It’s only been a few months since my arrival.” You bowed your head to this unknown yet alluring man. His presence was overwhelming and the entire office was silent- all eyes and ears on the two of you.

“Enjoy your stay, Y/N-sshi.” His husky voice trailed off behind him before he disappeared into the elevator with another unfamiliar man behind him.

How’d he know my name..?

You face-palmed after noticing the shiny golden name tag attached to your crisp white blouse.

“You should really stop drinking.” Your friend tightly gripped onto the soju bottle in which you refused to let go of.

“Let me relieve my stress! Work has been so much hell for me.” You managed to pour yourself another shot glass that was quickly downed, the stinging sensation brought tears to your eyes.

“…Don’t you have work again tomorrow? You’re going to get such a terrible hangover Y/N.. You should probably stop.” She quickly picked up the soju bottle that was almost empty and chucked it into the bin.

“I don’t care.. I don’t even want to work there anymore.” You managed to growl out, the alcohol taking it’s toll on your body.

“Hey! You should feel so privileged that you get to work in such a fine company. Look at me! I’m still working 3 different part time jobs because I can’t find a job. Do you want to be like me?” Your friend lectured you, peeling you off the desk and chair to take you home.

“Oh wait..” You slurred out, vision blurry and body-coordination out of reach.

“I think I left my house-keys in the office. I might need to go get them..” It was hard to articulate let alone walk straight.

“My god Y/N. Please get your life together.” Your friend buckled you up in her car and drove you to your work place that was still surprisingly operating.

“Tell me where your office is. I’ll go find it.” You just giggled to yourself, completely unaware of your actions. “It’s okay.. I’ll go get it myself. They’ll think you’re a bad bad intruder.” You slurred your words and sounded like a 4 year old. You shot her winks in her direction.

She just laughed and nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“I got this! I work here!” You giggled, completely out of your mind.

Miraculously, you managed to make your way to the elevator. You pressed on the button and tried your hardest to not collapse from the alcohol intake. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t hold your body still. You steadied yourself by resting your head on your palm and walked into the elevator as soon as it ‘dinged’ with no further precaution.

That was when you smashed into an unknown figure once again, despite your pride in keeping yourself steady for some time, the balance was taken right out of your body and you landed- bottom first on the shiny tiled floor. You were ticked. You had no control over your mouth and lord knows what kind of mess you were about to get yourself into.

You groaned in pain and massaged your scalp, hoping the loud thumping in your head would somehow disappear.

His eyes lowered down onto the ground to find you mumbling curses. He was surprised at what you were doing at the office so late at night. But being the gentleman he was, he gently reached out his hand to pull you up with ease.

His skin was surprisingly cold and you were picked up with such little effort, it felt refreshing to feel something so cool as your body felt like it was boiling. You started unbuttoning your white blouse and unzipped the bottom of your pencil skirt from your knee up to your lower thigh and continued to casually strip in-front of the unknown man.

His cold fingers put your actions to a complete halt followed by his cold tone that sounded familiar.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He raised an eyebrow, a somewhat surprised and confused expression spread upon his flawless face.

“Let go. It’s hot.” You mumbled, weakly pushing away his cool hand and continued to take off your shirt, struggling to do so, you wobbled back and forth before almost falling again- he had caught you by the waist and looked down to see you: flustered and abnormally drunk.  

“Ugh.. don’t touch me. I don’t need your help.” You weakly pushed him away again, this time a little more audible than before. He was surprised at the way you were treating him.

“Suit yourself.” He let go of his gentle grip on your waist and continued to watch you struggle to walk and read the buttons on the elevator.

“What are you doing here so late.” His question sounded more like a demand as his curiosity was slowly starting to eat up his mind. “It doesn’t matter.” You missed the buttons and started to get irritated at your lack of body coordination.

A cold smirk spread upon his face and he chuckled at you.

“What are you laughing at? Do you think you’re some kind of powerful being? Are you another one of those annoying bosses that won’t stop yelling at me for making their coffee wrong. God people here are so…”

He stopped chuckling and raised a single eyebrow. He calmly slid his hand into his pocket and continued to scan you from head to toe.


He examined your messed up bun that consisted of hairs sticking out and bobby pins falling out. He looked at your peachy red face and smelt the very noticeable stench of alcohol that leaked from your body. He noticed the beads of sweat that formed around your forehead and the heat of your breath that also smelt of alcohol. You were a mess.

“Y/N return home. I may not know of your intentions here but you’re not in any condition to do whatever you’re planning to do.”

“Blah blah blah. Stop nagging with you?” You retorted like a 4 year old, closing the gap between his face and yours. You were just a few millimetres from his face and he could feel your warm breath on his cold lips. It sent shivers down his spine and he was caught off-guard for the first time in years. He noticed your collarbone clearly visible and cleavage from your unbuttoned blouse but refused to look at it despite his obvious chances.

“Would you like me to call a driver?” He offered, somehow sounding half-assed so you took it as an insult. What really were his intentions?

“Listen here you.” You poked his toned chest and spoke with a slurred and drunken accent.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but I’m just trying to get back home and go to sleep so I can come back to this hell tomorrow morning and cry over how dumb this shitty company is.”

Once again, he was hit with things he thought he would never hear coming from a very new employee. Amused, he chuckled once again unable to hide his interest in her.

“Would you stop laughing? What do I need to do to stop you?” You smiled weakly at him, completely drunken with stress and alcohol, you had no control over what was about to happen.

You closed the gap between your lips and kissed him softly, the taste of alcohol spread to him as your tongue intertwined his and turned into something a little more passionate. He didn’t stop you so you assumed this meant a green light to continue. His lips tasted kind of addictive and cooling. You ran your hand up his smooth cheeks, through his perfectly combed hair and ruffled it before fiddling with his thin black tie and blacking out completely.

What in the fucking world just happened?

Part 2 

@leonygunawan said: HI ITS ME AGAIN!! i want to request a zach dempsey imagine where y/n are very close friends to jeff and at the night of the very very tragic accident y/n were with zach when clay called you THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE YOU💖💖

Author’s Note: Warning! Character death ahead.

Originally posted by void-obriens


“Zach,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and planting your hands on your hips as you stand in front of the TV. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes. We are not watching Transformers again. We’ve seen it three times this week.”

“But we watched Titanic all last month,” he pouts. 

“It’s a classic!”

“A classic that you constantly feel asleep to ten minutes in and then managed to miraculously wake up right when they hit the iceberg.”

You scoff. “‘Cause that’s when the good stuff starts happening!”

Keep reading


Originally posted by kths

pairing: taehyungxreader
word count: 2.6k
warnings: smut;

The blank screen stared back at me just as it had since the past half-hour. The thirty-seventh document in need of evaluation was no different than the others – plain and repetitive. If I’d have known, Mr. Kim had given me five copies each of the same document just in different orders. Every day stacks of paperwork were plunged atop my desk by the devil himself. He wouldn’t spare me a word, not even a glance. A fraction of my sentiments dwelled on the flames of agitation fed by the silent treatment he was giving me. But what difference was I when all I did was watch him disappear through my doorway without a word? He surely kept his word from that night.

‘I’m gonna punish you hard as soon as this trip is over.’

Keep reading

Shut Up and Drive

This one is for @misswhizzy - hope you enjoy <3

You were laid back in Dean’s arms, crammed between him and the steering wheel, kissing him lazily, Dean’s breathing slowing, his muscles gradually relaxing from the fantastic orgasm you’d just given him.  

You had both been working all day, full-on fed suits and badges, clipped questions and Dean’s official-looking glare, trying to intimidate the truth out of the few witnesses that had seen what had happened.  Turned out it had been a hoax, a bunch of idiotic teenagers trying to freak out their friends, and Dean had done a good job of scaring them right out of ever thinking of doing such a thing in the future.  He had been pissed off when you had climbed into Baby together, frustrated at the waste of time and the fact that he’d been wearing that damned suit all day long.  He hadn’t seemed to mind you in the skirt, though, because his eyes had traveled over you at every opportunity.

You had tried talking, but he had been in a mood, his FBI persona manifesting itself as if it were real, and you had finally given up, looking out the window as he had turned the music up a little more.  You had almost decided to lean against the window and grab a nap on the way home, but you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes from his profile, that stubbled jaw line, the almost pouty set of his lips as he had stared straight ahead at the road.

You had slid over close to him, snuggling up on his shoulder, and he had given you a crooked little smile as he had put his arm around you, pulling you close as you had kicked off your heels and pulled your legs up beside you on the seat. You had let your hand rest on his thigh, the rock hard muscle there warming your blood a little from just that simple touch.  You had stretched up, nuzzling your nose against his scruff, reaching for his tie and loosening it slightly, undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt and then kissing his neck.  "What’re you doing?“ he had asked, a little growl in his voice, but you hadn’t let him intimidate you.  You had just smiled, then continued, kissing and nipping at his neck as your hand had returned to knead his thigh, stroking from his knee up to his groin, smiling as you had felt his growing arousal.  "Liz.  I’m driving here.”

“Yes, you are.  And you always say you’re the best driver around, so why don’t you prove it?  If you can’t focus, you can always pull over.  I’d understand if you couldn’t handle it.”  You had thrown down the gauntlet, and his eyes had narrowed as he had glanced over at you.

“Baby, I can take anything you can dish out.”

And so the game began.

You had unbuttoned his shirt a little more, taken off his tie and tossed it in the back seat, and had moved your hand beneath his shirt while you had continued kissing and biting at his neck.  Your fingers had brushed over his nipples, teasing at him until they were hard as little pebbles, and you had wished you could just rip the shirt from him and attack them with your tongue and teeth.  But he was driving.  Sigh.  So you had contented yourself with using your fingers and nails gently, loving the occasional sharp intake of breath it had elicited from him. The bulge in in his suit pants had grown immensely in that few moments, and finally you had taken your hand from his shirt and let it glide slowly up the length of his thigh until you could squeeze him gently.

“Fuck, Liz,” he had growled, his hips shifting a little in the seat as you had slid his zipper down.  He had been fully hard, his black boxer briefs straining to contain him, and you had smiled as you had petted him like a puppy.  "Son of a bitch, babe, you’re killin’ me,“ he had moaned, and you had let out a breathy little laugh as you had brushed your lips over his ear.

"You seem to have a little problem here, agent.  I may have to investigate further,” you had whispered, and he had twitched under your hand, a low groan vibrating from his chest.  You had coaxed him to raise up off the seat just enough to get his pants down to the middle of his thighs, then you had run your nails lightly along the waist of his boxers, sending a shudder through him, goosebumps raising over his skin as you had finally slipped your fingers under the waistband and worked the last barrier out of your way.

You had sat up for a moment, removing your jacket and tossing it to the back seat, unbuttoning one more button on your crisp, white blouse, smiling again as Dean had cursed under his breath.  Then you had hitched your skirt up your thighs so you could kneel on the seat, stretching out a little so you could get in position, trailing  your fingers over his velvety smooth head before letting your tongue follow suit.  You had pressed little kisses down his length, then licked him from base to tip, and looked up at him through your lashes.  "I think you have a fever, agent.  And some swelling.  You may need treatment.“

"Stop fucking teasing, Liz,” he had managed to say, his voice tightly controlled, and you had run your hand over his steadily leaking tip, coating your palm and taking hold of him as you had smiled.

“Yes, sir.”  Without further warning, you had taken him in your mouth, and his hips had bucked up a little at the sudden sensation.  You had sucked as you moved back up, swirling your tongue around the head and over the slit, both of you moaning as you had tasted him.  You had begun moving in earnest, taking him in as far as you could as your hand gripped and stroked the rest, sucking hard as you moved up each time.  He had sworn, his voice wrecked, and turned off the highway, pulling over into a shallow ditch and throwing the car in park.
It hadn’t taken much longer after that, you had been determined to give him one of the best orgasms of his life, and you hadn’t disappointed.  He had come with a shout and several little growled curses, his fingers gently tangled in your hair as you had swallowed him down.  Then he had pulled you up into his arms and kissed you, and several minutes later, you were still there.

You nibbled at his jaw, your arms still around his neck, and then leaned back to look into his heavy-lidded green eyes.  "Well, you almost made it,“ you teased, a victorious little smirk on your lips.  His eyebrow raised as he stared back at you, a predatory gleam dawning in those forest green eyes.  

"Well, ‘agent’ - you can dish it out.  But can you take it?”  He sat you upright, then reached for the door, stepping out as he tucked himself back in and zipped up.  He reached for your hand, and you hesitantly took his as he helped you out of the car.  He pulled you against him, hard, kissing you fiercely as his hand pulled at your skirt until he was underneath, fingers gliding up your thigh and slipping beneath your panties to cup your ass and squeeze.  He kissed you breathless, then stepped back abruptly and smirked before climbing back into the car, sliding over into the middle as he patted the driver’s seat.  "Let’s go.“

Oh, shit.  This was a bad idea.  You were already riled up from pleasuring him, and he was dying for revenge.  But he wasn’t giving you a choice, so you squared your shoulders, raised a cocky eyebrow at him, and climbed in behind the wheel, turning the key.  He just watched you as you pulled back onto the road and headed back to the highway, but as soon as you hit the pavement, his hand was gliding up your thigh.  You focused with every fiber of your being on that stretch of road in front of you, determined to keep it together.

You hit 60 mph, your abdominal muscles contracting as Dean’s fingers moved to the inside of your thigh, then fluttering lightly over your rapidly dampening panties, so lightly that you barely felt it at first.  But he increased the pressure as he stroked between your legs, leaning over to whisper in your ear.  "Liz, baby, you’re already wet for me.  How are you gonna make it home?”  He nibbled at your earlobe, slipping his fingertips beneath your panties and letting out an evil chuckle at your soft gasp.

“I hate you,” you ground out between your teeth, and he laughed softly again.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, his tongue sweeping around the shell of your ear before his lips began to nibble at your neck.  His index finger was dipping shallowly into you,  and he moaned softly, sending a shiver through you.  "Watch it, babe, you’re - uh - speeding a little.“

You glanced at the speedometer, taking a deep breath as you tried to refocus and back off the almost 80 mph that you were traveling.  Damn it.  "Dean, not fair.”

He slid his finger in deeper, nipping at your neck.  "Oh, really…  Seems to me you’re the one who had an unfair advantage.  You got to use your mouth.  I’d love to use mine, Liz.  All you have to do is say, “You win,” and pull the car over. I’ll make you feel so good, baby.“  He was sucking a mark into your neck, and you fought to keep your eyes from closing at the bliss of his lips on you, his finger plunging deeper and deeper into you.  And then he sat up, leaning over a little as he put his other hand up your skirt, and grasping your panties in both hands, he tore them apart.  "Much better,” he purred into your ear, settling back against the seat and cupping your sex in his hand, his thumb brushing over your clit as a strangled noise escaped your throat.  "Give up?“

"Fuck, no.”

You could feel him grin as he continued to kiss your neck, and then you stiffened for a moment as he slowly, so slowly, slid two fingers inside, and you could feel yourself clench against them as he let out a loud sigh.  "You are so wet for me, baby.  Do you know how crazy that makes me?  I want to taste you, Liz, I need to taste you.  Come on, baby just give in.“

Your teeth were clenched hard, your knuckles white as you held the steering wheel in a death grip, your eyes staring resolutely at the road as you fought to keep your composure.  "No!”

He nuzzled his nose in your hair and whispered, “Okay.  Have to up the ante, I guess.”  He moved his left arm from behind you, reaching over and somehow making it look easy to backhandedly unbutton your white blouse, pulling it free from the waist of your skirt, and then slipping your bra strap down your shoulder far enough to pull the cup down, exposing your breast.  Oh, damn, he was really determined to win.

He moved his body over farther on the seat and leaned in to take your already almost painfully hard nipple between his plush lips, laving it with his tongue as he mirrored the rhythm he was rubbing over your clit.  You were beginning to tremble, stubbornly refusing to cave in, but when his teeth nipped at you and he sucked the sensitive nub hard into the heat of his mouth at the same time he curled his fingers inside you, you whimpered like a child and took the gravel road turn-off at a speed that normally would have alarmed you.  You stopped in the middle of the road, slamming the car into park, and ground out the words he was demanding, “You win, okay?  You win!”

“That’s my girl,” he said, grinning, but the heat in his eyes showed that he was just as relieved as you were.  He kissed you hard, his hand cupping your breast and kneading at it as he removed his hand from between your legs, and he helped you turn, pulling your legs to the seat as he reached to the back for your jackets, tucking them behind you to cushion your head.  

You were half-sitting against the driver’s side door, one arm draped over the back seat for support as he worked your skirt up, somehow cramming himself into the space left and lowering his head between your thighs.  Both of you were moaning, breathing hard in the small space as he licked over you, murmuring, “God, you’re so sweet,” before moving to nip gently at your clit and then sucking it hard as he  plunged his two fingers back inside you.  He sent you, whimpering, into an orgasm so intense that you couldn’t breathe for a moment, your thighs clamped tight around his head as he savored the taste of your release flooding over his tongue.  

You felt him kissing your inner thigh, carefully pulling your skirt down to cover you  as you slowly regained more awareness.  He placed a gentle kiss on your exposed breast, then put your bra back  in place and buttoned your blouse again as you watched him, your body still unwilling to move.  He took your hand and pulled you upright, cradling you in his arms as he bent to kiss your lips softly. “Want me to drive the rest of the way home?” he asked, smiling, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Once the two of you got rearranged, he put an arm around you and headed back to the highway with you cuddled up on his shoulder.  "Glad you finally admitted that I won, Liz.  You should know better than to mess with the master,“ he teased.  

You snuggled a little closer, letting your eyes drift shut as you smiled.  "Just shut up and drive.”

Part 2 - Or We Could Park - Parking Is Good, Too


Originally posted by fieryjimin

Its late at night. But hearing your voice gives me a reason to look forward to another beautiful day, another day to see your beautiful face.

pairing: jimin | reader
words: 1.9k
genre: fluff
summary: Jimin wants to talk. Just not with you.
a/n: it was 1 am last night, and i just thought of this idea and i kinda just 

“And I swear, this was by far the most amazing dream I had of her, like the ferris wheel dream was just wow but this one made me fall harder for her,” the animation and exhilaration in his voice was a tad bit thunderous for you at 3 am in the morning.

I mean, I could have just hung up and tell him to fuck off, I need my beauty sleep.

But he didn’t stop. Nothing stops Jimin from his moment to bask in the spotlight and talk for hours because when Jimin got something juicy to say, he will say it there and then. Only that it was just surprising for him to disrupt your night, ringtone piercing through the still silence of your peaceful slumber, to just tell you about his dreams because, really, he doesn’t do that at all.

Keep reading

Let me know if you guys like written stuff...

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Alex had been sent to his room again. Not because he had done anything that needed to be punished, but because his mom needed the rest of the house to herself for an hour or so, as she always did in the evenings of Friday through til Sunday.

Every weekend for the past four years, since she had broken up with Alex’s father, Mrs. Glover had started inviting guests over. When Alex was younger he had assumed that these guests were her work friends. Mrs. Glover always wore her best business attire on the weekends. A nice clean skirt and a crisp white blouse.

As Alex got older he also started to notice that that clean skirt stopped half way up her thigh and that crisp blouse was skin tight and unbuttoned half way. He also couldn’t help but notice the trim of her lacy colored bra underneath her shirt, or the way those bras pressed her breasts together to form a tight curved line for her ample cleavage. She was a bigger woman, but not in any way unattractive. Her face, arms and tummy held little fat- at least relative to the amount of weight she carried in her chest and bottom.

He also noticed her guests were a lot friendlier than simple business friends.

It was only a few months ago Alex decided to venture out of his bedroom on a Saturday evening while his mother was entertaining a guest. From halfway down the stairs he could see clearly into the living room where her mother was sitting on the couch, exaggerated posture tilting her chest upwards, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the tight arch of her lower back. There was a man standing in front of her, eying her, head to stiletto-clad toe. He seemed awkward standing there, unsure of himself, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. He seemed out of breath and sweaty as his shaky hand reached into his jacket pocket. When he pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket and laid it on the table, Alex’s mother moved with all the confidence and certainty the man lacked.

She gracefully slid down onto to her knees in front of him, her fat ass sitting on the heels of her hard black stilettos, creating two deep furrows in her otherwise perfectly rounded butt. Within seconds her deft fingers had the man’s belt, buckle and zipper undone and his pants were in a pool around his ankles. Alex wanted to gasp but found himself paralyzed with fear. He shouldn’t be seeing this, he should have stayed in his room and played video games or watched TV or jerked off or anything!- why was he even thinking of jerking off right now? How could that thought even occur at this moment? He hit himself in the head with a clenched fist and shook the thought away- but his eyes never left his mother.

Her hands were on his thighs now, followed by her lips. She worked her way up his legs, cherry lipstick leaving a trail of gentle kisses. She brushed her face against the front of his underwear and Alex noticed a distinct shape pressed against the fabric, twitching as his mother brushed her mouth upwards against the strangers concealed shaft, lower lip dragging along the way. She was purring softly, moaning between his legs. Her hands had reached around, creeping their way up his ass until her fingers hooked the elastic around his waist and began to pull slowly downwards.

His ass was exposed first as the backside of the elastic band came down, but the front of his legs were slowly revealed, the middle was still held up by his rigid cock. As she pulled further down his cock bent down and down, until the band peeled over the head of his shaft and his swollen cock snapped back up furiously, slapping his mother under the jaw.

With no pause, no hesitation, Alex’s mother, the woman who had given birth to him, fed him, clothed him, changed his diapers, raised him and his brother his whole life, that very woman- now on her knees with her skin tight skirt peeled up half way up her ass and her tits threatening to spill out of her too small bra, took that strangers cock into her mouth.

She was absolutely ravenous. Her moans got louder and louder, a wordless plea that grew tremendously the deeper she took his cock. She jerked his cock with one hand and licked the shaft from balls to head, she bobbed up and down taking just the head, she wrapped her arms around his hips and pulled herself down onto his cock until his heavy balls rested on her chin, she sucked, she popped, she groaned, she was a proper little bimbo whore.

The man loved every second of it. If he was awkward and shy at first, now you would have never guessed.

“Ah, jesus fuck, that’s right bitch, suck that dick. Take it like the little slut you are.” He was gently thrusting into her mouth as she bobbed up and down. He put a hand on the back of her head to help guide her but she brushed it away. “You a good little slut? You a nasty little cum dumpster?” His mother moaned an agreement with his dick still in her mouth. “Yeah you are, what a good little girl, your daddy’s good little cock sucker.” He put his hands on the back of her head again and tried to guide her once more, and once more she brushed his hands away. He did it a third time, only this time he started humping faster, and deeper. Before it had been small strokes, just the head in and out, but now he was forcing himself in as deep as her throat would allow.

His mother was shocked, whatever was happening it was clear she didn’t want it. She tried to push his hands off, so he answered by pushing her head backwards until her head was fully flattened against the couch cushion. Her back and neck were bent backwards and the man continued to force his cock into her mouth.

She wasn’t moaning or sucking or popping anymore. She was yelling a gargled plea that caught in her throat every time he jutted his dick downwards once more.

Alex was terrified. This had gone wrong. He wanted to run down and tackle the man but he was too scared to move. He only knelt there on the stair watching between the balusters. With every thrust of the strangers cock parting his mother’s painted lips her breasts were thrust up and down, the copious fatty tissue rippling within her bra, just barely staying covered.

With a final prolonged groan the man buried himself in her wet mouth and held still. Legs quivering as his hips bucked against her face in unison with his cocks orgasmic contractions, feeding her every drop of cum whether she wanted it or not.

When he was all spent and released her from his grip, Alex’s mom gasped for air and came up flailing her arms at the man, slapping him repeatedly.

“I TOLD YOU I DON’T DO THAT!” She was yelling as loud as she could without disturbing her son upstairs, as far as she knew.

“And I was told you were a desperate little bitch.” He was reaching into his jacket pocket again and pulled out a $10 bill. He let it fall to the table. “Here- for your trouble.”

She slapped him in the face. “ONLY ANOTHER 10, YOU DISGU-” He slapped her right back.

“You’re an uppity little bitch aren’t you. You’re lucky your man doesn’t take kindly to getting his girls all bruised up or I’d lay you down a bit harder than that.” Alex’s mother was nursing the side of her face, petulance in her eyes.

“Well then I guess he won’t be happy when he sees whatever mark you just left on me will he?”

“Woah, woah, woah bitch. You hit me. I hit you back. Get over it. In fact, I think you owe me something for the pain you just caused me.” He was smirking, pants still down.

“Get the fuck out. I’ll make sure you never come here again.” Alex’s mom was standing now, scooping her hand into her bra to adjust her tits one at a time.

“Well that’s no way to treat someone you just assaulted. I know your man doesn’t like his girls getting hit, but I’m sure he understands self defence. In fact, I got it all on film. See that in your pretty little plant there?” He pointed to a flower pot above the fireplace. Hidden in the corner was a phone pointed towards them. “Now, I’m sure he won’t really give a shit about me getting a little rough with you. A blowjob is a blowjob right? But I don’t think he’ll be happy to see one of his best paying customers getting slapped by some up-jumped cunt who’s too high and mighty to take a load in her mouth.” She said nothing. “I take it you agree? Nothing left to say?”

Her eyes were pure hatred. “What do you want?” She said, every word venom.

“You’re gonna bend over that couch right there, tug that tight little bra of yours down a bit so those fat titties spill out for me, and you’re gonna hike up that skirt. You’re gonna do all of this and whatever else I want without a word of disagreement or I’ll slap you again, do you understand?”


He slapped her.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Alex was shocked. He wanted to call the cops but was too scared to look away incase something happened. What would he say anyways? ‘Hi my prostitute mother is being abused?  He wanted it all to be a dream or for the man to stop or for his mom to fight him off- anything. But she just turned around her back to the man, giving him a full view of her wide set ass. For the first time Alex saw her from the front. Her breasts were massive, and when she pulled her bra down, they spilled out like a pair of overflowing water balloons. They pooled hard against the ridge of the couch where she took her position, knees on the mattress and ass in the air. The man pulled her black lacy panties down. From the angle he was at Alex could only see the massive curve of her ass and the top of the line that cut down between her two cheeks. The man was positioning himself behind her. He reached around her and stuck his fingers in her mouth.

“Get them nice and wet bitch.” She sucked deeply on his fingers. “Adda girl.” He withdrew his fingers and pulled her ass cheeks apart and started feeling her, gliding his slick fingers up and down her crack. With a sudden thrust her eyes flared open and she turned around gaping.

“Not my ass! Get out it hurts, please!” Instead of a slap he just started thrusting his two fingers in and out of her. She had nothing to do but accept it. She laid her head down on the edge of the couch, tears in her eyes as he violated her. Her sobs quieted the longer he did it but she whimpered throughout.

Then he was ready. His cock felt up and down her ass just as his fingers did, and he held the swollen head of his cock against the tight knot of her asshole for the longest time, savouring the moment. And then he plunged. Not gently, not in small strokes, but all at once. The full length of his cock, burying itself in her asshole. She cried. Loud. Loud enough that had Alex not come down earlier to see what was going on, he would have heard her then and come anyways. She made no effort to stifle herself. It wouldn’t be possible if she had tried.

Alex was sick to his stomach with fear. But he realized something even more horrible. His cock was absolutely iron hard.

For the next two hours the strange man in Alex’s living room owned his mother. This wasn’t the sex he thought he knew about, there was no love or passion. This was animalistic. The stranger had mounted her like a breeding bitch, plowing into her tight little shit hole with reckless abandon. She whimpered and clutched the cushions in a death grip, vying for release. Her heavy breasts beat upon the couch with every thrust and her thick, perfect ass molded itself to his hands as they gripped her tighter and tighter.

He stood high and mighty and tall while his mother was bent over like a dog. Being used. He commanded her to get back onto her knees. She obeyed, falling to her knees just in time to catch the man’s second load of cum on her tits. His cock was like a faucet, there was so much cum in his balls the first blast didn’t come out in tight ropes, it was a continuous stream for a solid 3 seconds before the muscle contractions kicked in and he fired 9 full blasts of thick white jizz all over her breasts. Alex couldn’t help but wonder how big his first cum shot must have been if this was his second! He also remembered how he hadn’t seen a single drop fall from her mouth the first time either…

When he was done Mrs. Glover’s tits were entirely covered. It was as if she had tripped and fallen into a bucket of white paint, tit first.

No words were spoken. The man pulled his pants up and reached into his pocket, threw an assortment of pocket change on the floor and left. Alex silently retreated up a few steps so he wouldn’t be seen as the man made his way to the front door. When he was gone Alex peeked again and saw his mother, red face and tearful, picking up the coins, thick globules of cum dripping off of her breasts onto the carpet with heavy plop’s. When she was done she looked down at herself all sticky and dishevelled, checked her phone and made her way towards the stairs. He scurried back to his room, well aware of the unbelievable erection in his pants.

He was back in bed with the door shut before she even got to the first step. His dick was so hard it hurt. He was breathless and felt sick. There was a pit in his stomach that swirled from his chest down his abdomen and even lower… and it wasn’t all bad. He felt light headed and before he knew it he could feel his cock in his hands. He jerked off the whole night, trying to think about anything but his mother as he did. But he couldn’t stop the images from popping in his head. He tried hard to think of anything else, but in the end all he could think about while he stroked his cock, was his mothers breasts, beating upon the back of the couch like a drum while she was fucked from behind.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Scariest Man

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1026
Summary: It’s Halloween, man. And you get ready for your little gathering.
A/N - This was supposed to be a drabble but kinda got turned into a one shot. Oh well.

Originally posted by tastemyblogg

You were on batch number three of your baking goods. You’ve already made zombie cookies, graveyard tarts and now you were waiting for the cupcakes to cool down so you could fill them with green goo, red blood and black ectoplasm. Of course, you didn’t really put those in your cupcake because first of all, eww, but second of all you worked close enough with these freaking monsters to know if this stuff looked real or not.

As you were sprinkling the cookie crumbs over your graveyard masterpiece you felt strong arms wrap around your midsection and a nose nuzzle into your neck inhaling your scent, you smelt like flour and cookies, you thought that would be disgusting and put Dean off but he began kisses up your neck to your jaw. You removed both of his hands from your waist, grabbed hold of your shoulder and spun you slowly to face him.

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@m4dh4ttey266 ​ came up with something wonderful called Shiptale (or undership). It’s a place where all ship children from the different Undertale AU’s get to hang out. One suggestion was that there would be a school where they all go and that the creators of the characters are their teachers. I absolutely love the idea of everyone’s OC’s hanging out together so here’s my first interpretation of it, featuring @m4dh4ttey266​‘s US!PapXUF!Pap child Cajun and my GrillbyXMuffet child Maisie

Maisie was grateful for the free period between monster history and multiverse theory, it meant she could go outside for what her friends jokingly called ‘her smoking break’. Maisie didn’t smoke of course, she just liked to let her fire burn freely for a while. It didn’t take her a lot of effort to keep the swirling flames she had for hair to subdued pigtails, but if she did it all day long it did give her a slight headache. So she really enjoyed taking some time to sit outside and let her purple sparks fly upwards. She usually sat on a bench by the gym building, overlooking the sports field and opposite the primary school building.

That’s what she was doing that afternoon when she saw a tall skeleton climb out of an upstairs window.

“What on earth…” Maisie muttered and she watched with great interest how the skeleton jumped to the next windowsill, judged the distance to the ground and jumped.

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Originally posted by suitelikechocolate

Author’s Note: Yes, I’m Canadian. Yes I spell colour with a “u”. Yes this is inspired by a gif. Yes I was supposed to post Part 4 of Dinner today. No I did not post it. Yes it’s because I’m trash. Yes it’s because I was inspired to write this instead. Hope you like this Soulmate Fic! There will be a part 2!!

Word Count: 1474

Part 1

Before him, your world was black and white. You experienced like a 40’s motion picture. Day in, day out, your life was the same. You woke up, did your morning routine, went to work, came home, worked out, and slept. Repeat again. And again. And again.

By some random chance, you stumbled upon a man being attacked one day. You briefly debated whether or not you should help. Not because you were a bad person. Honestly. Only because you didn’t know how to and you didn’t want to make things worse.

But something drew you to him, like pollen drew bees.

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I wasn't going to, but then I had to

You know how animators do those little touches you just love sometimes? There’s one in Crystal that’s both amazing, and that breaks my freaking heart, and it’s right here:

Ami’s uniform blouse.

I’m going to preface this little love-rant by answering the eternal lurking question: no, this is not just a screencap error. I picked this particular frame because it has Usagi standing right next to her in a similar pose for comparison, but also because it’s from Masquerade–the episode with far and away the best animation so far. What we’re gonna be talking about has been true of every single one of Ami’s appearances so far.

On the right, we have Usagi, with her loving and attentive housewife mother. Her blouse is crisp, clean, bright white with a lovely and well-tied bow. The sleeves have a well-kept contrasting trim, and that bow in the back is so starched you could bounce a quarter off it.

And then … and then there’s Ami. Gray, dingy blouse. The sleeves hang down over her hands, that cute contrasting blue cuff has apparently been torn off, the seams slide off her shoulders, and the hem hits her mid-hip instead of at the waist–that’s a Makoto-sized shirt, not an Ami-sized one. The fabric is heavy and slouchy, almost like she’s wearing a sweatshirt; this uniform blouse has never seen an iron, and probably no bleach, either. In fact, if you look at the skirt compared to the blouse, and you had to learn to do laundry the hard way, you might think–I did–“did she actually put a bright blue skirt in with a white top?”

But it doesn’t stop there. The bow on the front of her uniform is too small, and it droops. A red bow on a white shirt would result in a whole schoolful of girls with unevenly-pink blouses, so it seems pretty likely those sailor collars and bows actually come off and go back on for washing purposes; Usagi’s is picture-perfect, but Ami’s has been tied back on by someone who’s not very good at such things. The shirt hangs down over where the bow should be on the back, but there’s a weird puff in the fabric in the Masquerade shot that shows her back–the bow is under there. It’s just as sad and droopy as the one in front. And although Ami and Usagi are shown as being pretty much equal in height, Usagi’s skirt is consistently longer than Ami’s–there is not one single part of Ami’s uniform that fits her right.

Let’s review what we know of Ami’s family: no siblings, Dad ran out and Mom’s never around. Coming from a similar background at a similar age–mom across the country caring for a terminally-ill parent, dad working two full-time jobs, and I was in the “gifted and talented” program–I can tell you what happens when you’re 14 and no adults are home. You have to do the dishes for everyone, but there’s no dishwasher soap so you put Dawn in the dispenser and come home to a watery, sudsy mess all over the floor. You try to vacuum, but invariably the canister fills up and you can’t get it out to empty, or the belt goes in the middle of the floor. You clean the bathroom, but can’t seem to get rid of the odor, and only find out much later the problem is that you can’t flush tampons down a septic system and now there’s sewage all over the bathroom floor. And you ruin a lot–a lot–of clothes. And the reason for every single one of the above comes down to the same thing:

People never told you how to do it, and if asked, they would say “Oh, she’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”

A lot of people seem to be looking at Ami’s character design and saying “oh, well, she wants to hide.” But the truth is, there is so much more here than wanting to hide.

I see a mother who never taught her to do laundry and isn’t home to do it herself. I see an Ami sitting in the laundry room crying because she prewashed everything to take out extra dye just like the labels said, why did the blouse turn this color? I see a hurried start-of-the-year shopping trip to pick up clothes that “should” fit Ami “soon enough, if they don’t already,” wedged in between a dozen other responsibilities, and a bag dropped off on Ami’s bed or backpack with a note that says “got your uniforms, will call tonight, love you–Mom” and not even the slightest indication that Ami should try the things on to make sure they’re not too big or too small, or that a return trip to rectify any errors would be made.

I see a girl who, on some level, is dully embarrassed by her too-small bow and unstarched blouse, but that embarrassment is just background noise to the larger embarrassments of her life because she probably started wearing those ill-fitting uniforms in elementary school, unraveled hems held together with scotch tape or safety pins until she learned how to sew a straight-stitch because uniforms that required repair or replacing were always a subject put off until “my next day off” and then forgotten, and the concept of school clothes that fit the way they’re supposed to is so alien that she can’t conceive it even belongs in her life. She knows it’s not right–she’s a perfectionist who stresses out over being one point away from full marks, she is painfully aware of her substandard uniform–but she also doesn’t know how to change it, how to fix it. Communication has broken down so completely that asking for money for a new school blouse is a thought that just doesn’t exist.

The entire story of Ami’s home life is crammed into her school uniform. It’s brilliant. And heartbreaking.

And more than anything, what I really want is that after Miss Domestic Mako-chan joins the team, I want Ami to show up at school one day smiling, and happy, and proud … in a neatly-starched white blouse, with a fluffy red bow.

All Your Gods are Teenage Girls

Athena with her crisp white blouse, comfortable jeans, and dark hair in a neat bun. Leader of the chess club and debate club with a tongue sharper than the blade she keeps in her back pocket.

Artemis with her grey t-shirts, black leggings, and long hair in a braid. Captain of the archery team, going to animal shelters after school with her girl gang, falling asleep under the light of the moon.

Hestia with her warm sweaters, black leggings, short curly dark hair, and warm brown eyes. The smell of cinnamon and home, handing out hot chocolate to the kids at the local orphanage.

Aphrodite with her sundress and heels, blonde hair in perfect curls, red lipstick always on hand. The smell of roses, the coy smile and endless eyelash batting, running a beauty and self-love blog.

Persephone with her burnt caramel skin, long brown hair woven with flowers, and floral crop tops. Walking through fields of flowers, watering her ever growing flower garden, sneaking out with her boyfriend.

009. Youtuber Preferences: Favorite Outfit

This was a request. Thank you so much. Helped me get some YouTuber mojo back.


“Are you all ready? It’s about to get very girlie up in here.” Looking directly into the camera, Caspar stood in front of you while you opened up the two doors that led into your very packed wardrobe. It had been requested by a variety of his followers on Twitter that you do a video with him and specifying it be something fashion related since people commented that you had cute accessories when you were in his video. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t realized about yourself, but since Caspar promised a foot rub if you did it, you happily obliged. 

“Oh, thanks for cleaning up for us, [Y/N]” Your boyfriend joked as you revealed your not so huge closet, but very large collection of garments. A few pairs of folded jeans fell to the floor almost as soon as the door opened up. Rolling your eyes at him, you bent over at the waist to pick them up. 

“Well, I guess we’ll start with jeans…” You laughed, slapping your hand over the folded three pairs. “I believe these are all…yep, they’re all Paige jeans. That’s my favorite. It’s pricey, but they last.” Talking to the camera, you bobbled your head back and forth on your shoulders. All you wanted to do was ask Caspar to do all the talking since you hadn’t a clue if you were actually very entertaining. 

“They look nice on your bum, too.” Caspar added in, his hands already going through your main rack and taking a look around. “This is weird…” He pulled out an orange sweater with an array of poms sewn on it, tossing it over his shoulder in your direction, but it fell down to your socked feet so you bent down and picked it up. “You have a lot of weird jumpers…” He noted, mumbling to himself. “My girlfriend is just a weirdo.” He looked over his own shoulder and whispered to the camera. 

“You have weird taste, too. I’ve done your laundry.” You were on the ground, sitting on your knees, putting away the jeans and jumper neatly on the floor. 

“Oh this, I remember this.” Caspar completely ignored your comment and pulled out a cotton playsuit that he considered to be quite tribal. “I like this a lot. You wore this all over Florida around PlayList Live, remember?” It was a rare moment of seriousness, Caspar shifting his attention between the garment in his hand and you on the floor. “You had your big sunglasses on and your flippy-floppys…you looked good.”

“Awh, thanks, doll.” You blew him a kiss from the floor, but Caspar slipped right back into his default setting of being a clown and fixed you with an uneven stare. 

“I said you looked good. I’m not going to date you.” He joked and put the romper away, going back to scouring through all your things.


On your bed, flipping through one of your old Vanity Fair magazines, you could hear Finn groaning plainly, but it didn’t make you hurry out from behind the divider any faster.

“Finn, be patient.” You hissed while wiggling your black skirt over your hips. “It’s not like I’m just meeting your parents, I’m meeting your entire family.” It was his and Jack’s birthday dinner coming up and all of his relatives would be there. You two hadn’t been together very long and you wanted to make a great impression, not just a good one. Jeans and a crisp floral blouse would make a good impression and that just wasn’t enough.  

“You could show up in hot dog costume. They won’t care.” He grumbled, closing your magazine as he came to a picture of Anne Hathway and tossing it lightly to his feet that were hanging over the end of the bed. “We’re not going to make it to the movie if you take any longer.” He pointed out, causing you to poke your head out from behind the divider to see the time on your clock. He was right. You two were pushing it. 

“Okay, well is this okay?” You rushed out, pulling your dress down and the hem of your shirt, not sure how you felt about the two together. “I won’t wear these shoes obviously.” You nodded down at the silver pair, a random gift from one of your friends just because. 

“I like the shoes.” Finn commented, looking away from the skirt you were moving back and forth at your sides to see the kitten heels. “I think this is nice.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re bored and want to go?” With your head tilted to the left, you asked him with a serious stare. 

Finn sat up completely and rested his feet on the ground, reaching out his arms for you to take hold of his hands which you happily did out of reflex. 

“Nope. I like this. You look like a princess off duty or something.” He laughed, not sure if that sounded very fashionable or not. Finn would never claim to know anything about trends and beauty, but he knew what he liked and he liked your ensemble. 

“Okay. Let me change back into my jeans and we can go…” You went to rush back behind the divider, but his hands stayed over yours and kept you in place. 

“No. Wear this out. I like this.” Nodding, he urged you before standing up right in front of you and leaning forward to rest a kiss on your unglossed lips.


He loathed following you and Zoe around on one of your many shopping sprees. While he was happy you two were in your element, it felt like torture to Joe. He always just offered to sit in the nearest Costa, drinking hot chocolate and eating biscuits, while you two went about spending and trying on everything you could. So, he didn’t complain when neither you or his sister asked him if he wanted to come along this time. He happily sat at home on his computer editing his latest video.

“Hey, where’s [Y/N]?” He didn’t move, just called out when he spotted Zoe back in the house, walking by his room with a few shopping bags in hand.

“She went home.” Her voice like a song, Zoe answered back from her next door room. 

Joe had just assumed you would come over and he wanted to ask your opinion on a few different clips for his videos since you never just agreed with him, you were very open with your ideas and opinions. He picked up his cell phone from behind him, resting on his pillow, and texted you to come over. 

It wasn’t until after you had had supper with your own family that you came by the Suggs house, feeling quite lazy. You hoped that Joe would be feeling the same and you both could just lie down together, watch game shows and talk about nothing. 

“Thanks for greeting me at the door.” Sticking out your tongue, you caught him off guard as you entered his room. “Your Mom answred it and said you were up here being a hermit.” You walked in happily, feeling quite comfortable in your boyfriend’s bedroom as you had spent countless hours in there before. 

Joe’s eyes never left you, but you couldn’t exactly locate what part of you they were on. Did you have food in your teeth? A grass stain on your bum? Maybe, he thought you looked fat? Maybe he wasn’t used to your hair up. 

“What?” You turned to face your whole body to him, dead on, and studied his perplexed face right back. 

“You look really good.” After swallowing hard down his throat, he admitted to you as if he had never seen you look nice before.

“I think you’ve just been staring at the computer all day. I’m the first live women you’ve seen all day besides your mom.” A funny refusal to a compliment, you rebutted before climbing onto the bed and sitting right down beside him, ready to help him upload his video to the world. 

“No. You just look good. I really like…” He motioned up and down to the perimeter of your body silently. “This. Whatever this is. You look great. I wish the sun was still out, I’d take you out and show you off.” He swung his hand behind you, pulling you nearer to him by the waist and kissed you slower than usual. You had just been expecting a peck, but he took his time and acted like your mouth was a leisure game. 

“Well, I’m glad I picked this up today then.” Smirking into the kiss, you managed to murmur. 


He likes you when you’re at your comfiest because it reminds him of the morning the two of you met. He was biking to the nearby diner, a family owned greasespoon, to meet with Louis, Ben, and Finn, and was peddling as fast as he could, a little worried he would be late and a little excited to pitch his ideas. 

His tires screeched against the pavement when he abruptly stopped in front of the spot, walking his bike to a sign that he could chain it to. After locking it up, he wiggled the cell phone from the pocket of his black trousers and spotted two unread texts. One from Ben saying he was stuck in traffic and one from Louis that said that he was on his way, but that his friend, [Y/N], was there and had a table already. The diner was a hot spot on weekend mornings, known for their delicious buttermilk pancakes with strawberry sauce and extra greasy sausages. 

Jack looked around the crowded place, noise coming from every corner not unlike it did in his brain, but he wasn’t sure who he was looking for. It took him from a moment to spot you, bundled up in layers with your hat still on, waving at him from a booth in the back. You were reading a torn up paperback, holding it open on page 186 with your other hand with a plate of maple french toast in front of you, powdered sugar covering the pieces like snow.

“Hi, I’m Jack…” He grinned, reaching out to shake your hand.

“I know. Hi.” From ear to ear, you grinned back and quickly wiped your syrup licked fingers on a napkin before returning his handshake. “[Y/N.]” Quickly, you introduced yourself. “Excuse my outfit, or whatever you want to call it,” Babbling, you looked down over yourself and chuckled. “My room mate took my clothes out of the wash and left them on the floor, so I got creative. And Louis didn’t tell me I’d be meeting a bunch of people.”

“You look great. You look very warm.” Jack noted, not at all concerned by your attire, since he meant what he said. It was a nice day out, but the air conditioning was blasting through out the diner. “Are you and Louis a thing?” He asked while putting his messenger bag down by the chair he had chosen, located right across from you.

“No, no, no, no, no….” Almost instantly, you told him and shook your head along with your answer as if to emphasize it. “We’re just buddies." 

"Good.”  He was pulling out his laptop, smiling to himself. Jack didn’t usually ask people about their relationship status as soon as he met them, but it was the way  you had spoken about Louis before and, maybe, he also wanted to know what you looked like outside of your cozy clothes.


“I don’t recall the choreography calling for so much butt grinding…” Looking behind you, you stared right at Mazz as your noses touched. You two always flirted even when the dance didn’t call for it, but you two always seemed to be dancing together and you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

“You can’t be rocking those little shorts and not expect a boy to be on you like Miley to a pole…” He quickly responded with somehting that only he would say, his fingers tapping at your hips as he held onto them for dear life. You already knew that Mazz liked your boots, commenting on them a few days ago when you two had met up for drinks with friends, but now you would have to remember to wear the shorts more often.

“I have seen girls in far shorter…” You noted, pulling away from him to rush across the studio floor and pause the song as you were both distracted now. 

“Yeah, well they don’t look as good as you.” Simply stated, as if he was reciting the words of God, Mazz confidently said. He was sliding across the floor, dipping his head and then looking up at himself in the wall mirror. He looked up and over to his side to see if you had just watched him, he wanted your opinion, but you were bent down at the waist, hovering over his plugged in Ipad, and searching through his songs. Mazz licked his lips and walked right over to you, latching his hands onto your sides and pressing himself against you. “I think the dance requires you to touch your toes a little more.” He snickered and while you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help yourself but wiggle your butt to and ‘fro just to bother him.

stardustmelody77  asked:

I think many of us would love to see a scenario where Sheldon, once he got over the shock of seeing Amy in the school girl outfit pulls her into the apartment and then what happens after. If you are willing, we are excited to see what you would do with this. ;)

Thank you for the request.  I kind of wanted to write this one anyway, so here goes.  I can’t say that this is what I actually believe happened, but I think this is what I want to have happened.  Sheldon liked the outfit even if he didn’t understand why.  So much of what Amy does confuses him, but I think he likes it a little.

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Things That Go Bump in the Night (The Team Building Exercise Remix)

A/N: For @lifeinahole27. Happy birthday, dear Sarah! I’m so happy I stumbled on this fandom and on you. As I’ve already told you, I adore your writing and for your gift I decided to adopt a tradition from a couple of my past fandoms and remix one of your fics that has been sitting in my head since you posted it.

Link to Sarah’s fic below, for those of you who haven’t read it. Go enjoy it!

Summary: Emma might have a thing about ghosts and ghost stories. Killian might find it endearing.

Original Fic: A Different Kind of Team Building

Words: 2740 | Rating: Light M | ao3 | ffn


It all started with a coffee mug.

It was his first day in his office in Boston and he was lost in a warren of office-lined halls, trying to determine the best way to navigate from the corner conference room to his office. Sidestepping to allow Ruby and her overstuffed filing box to pass, he grazed his hip along the desk of one of the assistants, sending a coffee mug teetering over the edge and shattering across the floor. He apologized profusely and tried to sop up the mess, but was shooed away from the mess before he could be much help.

It was only later Killian found out the desk belonged to Emma’s assistant and the mug was Emma’s prized one. At least that explained the scowl Emma kept shooting him those first few weeks.

Or so he hoped.

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When it comes to trying to stay fabulous and frolicious in the summer heat, I think simplicity is key! A sheer blouse with jeans and sandals is not only cool, but looks crisp and chic! 

Blouse: Macy’s

Jeans: Old Navy (thrifted)

Sandals: Target

gonewasanytraceofit  asked:

Prompt: OQ, back from New York. Making love and Regina gets emotional "Robin, I can't ever let you go away again" :$

In the spirit of your quote…

He’s never seen her like this. Not in the weeks of threats they’ve face in this land, nor the months of uncertainty in the Enchanted Forest, nor the darker nights when he walked through the castle kitchens searching for a drink or the grounds seeking out his son, and found her curled up alone with watery eyes, missing a son of her own. 

“What is it, love?” he asks gently, palm coasting up her bare back.

She shakes her head, nestling her face closer into his neck, her arms tight almost to the point of painful around his shoulders, her slight form heavy on his, not an inch of space between them.

He reaches blindly near their legs for the blanket that usually rests on her office couch, the couch that had made them desperate for each other, until clothes had been shoved aside, breaths stolen and gasps drawn out in their frantic need for each other. They’ve been together before, since his return, but he thinks with a rueful grimace that perhaps the roaring fireplace and cream couch were not the best place for an evening without the boys. They have good memories from the place, wonderful memories, the trust and disbelief and warmth in her eyes as she told him the beginning of their story, the way her very being lit up with the return of her heart, and their hands dared to wander more freely than before. There are good memories from today, too, her beautiful if fleeting smile, and uninhibited moans, and his consequently stuttering heart. But perhaps, like so many things in her life, he has tainted it enough that the bad outweighs the good. 

(My feelings for you were–are real. He cannot bear the way he made her cry, but even worse is the way she smiled so radiantly in the moment before. All of it for nothing, for the deceptive scheme of a lunatic who fooled him so completely he’s become the reason for so much of his soul mate’s–his own soul’s–pain.)

He tries to tug her shirt closed around her, an effort to halt chills that have nothing to do with the temperature, but she stops him with a firm hand; she will allow nothing that creates space between them. “I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair, clinging every bit as tightly as her, his gut twisting as her silent tears begin to dampen the hollow of his neck and leave her shoulders trembling. 

She shakes her head vehemently, and if that’s not exactly what she’s thinking of–the last time she cried with him in this room, because of him, and he walked away–then he’s at a loss to understand why–

“I thought that I wasn’t supposed to have this,” she finally manages, her voice even despite the tears he can still feel against his skin. She shifts a little, turning slightly on her side, and he is glad of it, for he can now see her out of the corner of his eye as she presses a kiss to his shoulder. “And then you came along and I thought maybe I was.”

He smiles gently at her, using his thumbs to sweep away her remaining tears, his love for her aching even more fiercely in his chest, though he wouldn’t have thought that possible. She looks determined now, to make sense of her own thoughts. Her brow furrows, “And then you left, and I thought I–wasn’t, again.”

His heart constricts with guilt, with longing for her, even though she’s right here, for the woman he so fervently tried to convince himself could be happy, and yet vividly pictured alone in this room with her grief, red lips pursed as she fought the tears pooling in her dark eyes; for the woman he tried not to see as he walked away, and yet couldn’t get out of his mind. Tears drip from his own eyes, but he stays silent as she finishes.

“I want to trust that I’m the one who–that I have some measure of control over what I have. But I–” the tears threaten again–he can see them, hot and insistent in her glassy eyes–, “I’m so tired of being afraid. I have so many good days, and then today I–”

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he rushes out, catching her hand and twining their fingers together, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”. Idiot, he is, dragging her through these horrible memories, as if he hasn’t caused her enough pain for several lifetimes, as if it doesn’t make his stomach bottom out in panic when he thinks about it.

How much more powerful his words would feel to him if he had not caused so much of her uncertainty. These months may have taught her that she controls her own fate, but why, he silently demands, his hands clenching into fists in anger at himself, why did more pain and loneliness have to be her teacher? 

“No.” She shakes her head, finally stopping to meet his eyes. her free hand stretching out from where it’s wedged between their bodies to cup his jaw, the touch grounding him and evening out his stumbling breaths. “You were wonderful today. This was lovely.” She clears her throat to banish the roughness of tears. “That’s the problem. I’m starting to trust being–happy again, and it scares the hell out of me.”

A tear slips out of one of her eyes, landing on the warm skin of his shoulder. He bends his neck to press his forehead into hers, nudging his nose into hers, breathing in the warm vanilla of her perfume, the fresh sandalwood of the soap she borrowed in their shower because she’d run out of hers, the crisp cotton of her blouse, still a little damp with their sweat. He revels in the rightness of it, the way they fit, the way it is home to him. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he tells her, though he knows, he knows it isn’t that rational, that fear can’t be so easily banished, especially in someone whose every hope has been crushed before her, an expectation turned to dust. He catches her eyes, smiling gently at her. Her gaze is so open to his, wide and vulnerable and unflinching, and his heart aches all the more for it.

There is nothing more to say, no comforting words she does not already know, has not already heard a hundred times before. What he can do is hold her close and endeavor to give them both, for each scarring memory, a thousand healing ones.