i need this movie right now

Get to know me meme

Tagged by @bk4ever

Rules: tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better

Nickname: Tsukuyomi, I’ve been using it since 2001 or so.

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

Height: Sorry I only know it in metric system. It’s 1,63. Short and kinda chubby.

Last thing you googled: “Needed forms for census” (but in Spanish).

Favorite music artists: Blackmore’s Night, Daft Punk, Asia Engineer, Michael Jackson, well anyone from the Motown in general.

Song stuck in my head: *It’s a little bitty pissant country place, ain’t nothin’ much to see…* (by Dolly Parton from the musical movie “The best little whorehouse in Texas.”)

Last movie you watched: Total Recall (the remake. Didn’t like it. The original is more enjoyable.)

What are you wearing right now: Light blue jeans and a white blouse.

Why did you chose your URL?Tsukuyomi is my nickname and I always wanted my own amusement park.

Do you have a you have any other blogs? Yes, a personal blog with reblogs, mostly old dresses, flowers, art (of dresses), inspirational stuff and sometimes, rants and things about my daily life (@sunriseamongtheflowers), a blog for my personal project, @lady–lioness in which I’m working now storyboarding the first chapter, and a blog I use as portfolio to apply for conventions and other events, @tsukuyomiartland

What did your last relationship teach you? Don’t try to fix anyone’s life. Also, the moment you see someone taking your hand when you offered a finger, RUN. And always listen to people’s advice, even if it hurts you. The advice that hurts is probably the right one. Don’t feel tempted to take the wrong way only because there are more people applauding you there. I talk about friendship, because I’ve been in a relationship with my significant one for seven years and we are marrying soon :)

Religious or spiritual?

Both.

Favorite color?

Pink. Combine it with white and you got me forever.

Average hours of sleep?

8 hours or so. Sleeping the proper hours improves your mood A LOT and helps to fight depression.

Lucky number?

7. Final Fantasy VII. Link slept for 7 years.

Favorite characters?

Link, Zelda, Impa (any of them, but specially the OoT ones), Zack, Cloud, Aerith, Tifa (from Final Fantasy VII), Peridot, Garnet (Steven Universe), Beth (from Little Women), Harle/Tsukuyomi (from Chrono Cross), Lara Croft (the classical one) Lady Oscar and Marie Antoinette (from Rose of Versailles) Marie Joseph Sanson (from Innocent Rouge) Rorolina Frixel (from Atelier Rorona) Alessa Gillespie, Lisa Garland (from Silent Hill).

How many blankets do you sleep in?

Only the same feather duvet all year. Well, just a sheet during summer.

Dream Job?

I’m living the dream.

People I want to get to know better????
Let’s see… @dysah and… @pearlls, and… @verieas and… @ingenue and @vint-agge-xx and @onisuu (even if I’m sure she made this a zillion times before) and… well I wish @xx–ingie–xx dared. And @alderion-al @blurbery @angiebluesart @yumivigo and well whoever wants.

EDIT: AND @chat-en-rose and @missdellarosa too because you rock

On trauma aftermaths that don't advance the plot

The way TV shows trauma can lead people to expect every reference to trauma to be a plot point. This can be isolating to people coping with the aftermaths of trauma. Sometimes people treat us as stories rather than as people. Sometimes, instead of listening to us, they put a lot of pressure on us to advance the plot they’re expecting.

On TV, triggers tend to be full audiovisual flashbacks that add something to the story. You see a vivid window into the character’s past, and something changes. On TV, trauma aftermaths are usually fascinating. Real life trauma aftermaths are sometimes interesting, but also tend to be very boring to live with.

On TV, triggers tend to create insight. In real life, they’re often boring intrusions interfering with the things you’d rather be thinking about. Sometimes knowing darn well where they come from doesn’t make them go away. Sometimes it’s more like: Seriously? This again?

On TV, when trauma is mentioned, it’s usually a dramatic plot point that happens in a moment. In real life, trauma aftermaths are a mundane day-to-day reality that people live with. They’re a fact of life — and not necessarily the most important one at all times. People who have experienced trauma do other things too. They’re important, but not the one and only defining characteristic of who someone is. And things that happened stay important even when you’re ok. Recovery is not a reset. Mentioning the past doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in crisis.

On TV, when a character mentions trauma, or gets triggered in front of someone, it’s usually a dramatic moment. It changes their life, or their relationship with another character, or explains their backstory, or something. In real life, being triggered isn’t always a story, and telling isn’t always a turning point. Sometimes it’s just mentioning something that happened to be relevant. Sometimes it’s just a mundane instance of something that happens from time to time.

Most people can’t have a dramatic transformative experience every time it turns out that their trauma matters. Transformative experiences and moments of revelation exist, but they’re not the end all and be all of trauma aftermaths. Life goes on, and other things matter too. And understanding what a reaction means and where it came from doesn’t always make it go away. Sometimes, it takes longer and has more to do with skill-building than introspection. Sometimes it doesn’t go away.

On a day to day level, it’s often better to be matter-of-fact about aftermaths. It can be exhausting when people see you as a story and expect you to advance the plot whenever they notice some effect of trauma. Pressure to perform narratives about healing doesn’t often help people to make their lives better. Effect support involves respecting someone as a complex human, including the boring parts.

The aftermath of trauma is a day-to-day reality. It affects a lot of things, large and small. It can be things like being too tired to focus well in class because nightmares kept waking you up every night this week. TV wants that to be a dramatic moment where the character faces their past and gets better. In real life, it’s often a day where you just do your best to try and learn algebra anyway. Because survivors do things besides be traumatized and think about trauma. Sometimes it’s not a story. Sometimes it’s just getting through another day as well as possible.

A lot of triggers are things like being unable to concentrate on anything interesting because some kinds of background noises make you feel too unsafe to pay attention to anything else. For the zillionth time.  Even though you know rationally that they’re not dangerous. Even though you know where they come from, and have processed it over and over. Even if you’ve made a lot of progress in dealing with them, even if they’re no longer bothersome all the time. For most people, recovery involves a lot more than insight. The backstory might be interesting, but being tired and unable to concentrate is boring.

Triggers can also mean having to leave an event and walk home by yourself while other people are having fun, because it turns out that it hurts too much to be around pies and cakes. Or having trouble finding anything interesting to read that isn’t intolerably triggering. Or having trouble interacting with new people because you’re too scared or there are too many minefields. Or being so hypervigilant that it’s hard to focus on anything. No matter how interesting the backstory is, feeling disconnected and missing out on things you wanted to enjoy is usually boring.

When others want to see your trauma as a story, their expectations sometimes expand to fill all available space. Sometimes they seem to want everything to be therapy, or want everything to be about trauma and recovery.

When others want every reference to trauma to be the opening to a transformative experience, it can be really hard to talk about accommodations. For instance, it gets hard to say things like:

  • “I’m really tired because of nightmares” or 
  • “I would love to go to that event, but I might need to leave because of the ways in which that kind of thing can be triggering” or 
  • “I’m glad I came, but I can’t handle this right now” or
  • “I’m freaking out now, but I’ll be ok in a few minutes” or 
  • “I need to step out — can you text me when they stop playing this movie?”

It can also be hard to mention relevant experiences. There are a lot of reasons to mention experiences other than wanting to process, eg:

  • “Actually, I have experience dealing with that agency”
  • “That’s not what happens when people go to the police, in my experience, what happens when you need to make a police report is…”
  • “Please keep in mind that this isn’t hypothetical for me, and may not be for others in the room as well.”

Or any number of other things.

When people are expecting a certain kind of story, they sometimes look past the actual person. And when everyone is looking past you in search of a story, it can be very hard to make connections.

It helps to realize that no matter what others think, your story belongs to you. You don’t have to play out other people’s narrative expectations. It’s ok if your story isn’t what others want it to be. It’s ok not to be interesting. It’s ok to have trauma reactions that don’t advance the plot. And there are people who understand that, and even more people who can learn to understand that.

It’s possible to live a good life in the aftermath of trauma. It’s possible to relearn how to be interested in things. It’s possible to build space you can function in, and to build up your ability to function in more spaces. It’s often possible to get over triggers. All of this can take a lot of time and work, and can be a slow process. It doesn’t always make for a good story, and it doesn’t always play out the way others would like it to. And, it’s your own personal private business. Other people’s concern or curiosity does not obligate you to share details.

Survivors and victims have the right to be boring. We have the right to deal with trauma aftermaths in a matter-of-fact way, without indulging other people’s desires for plot twists. We have the right to own our own stories, and to keep things private. We have the right to have things in our lives that are not therapy; we have the right to needed accommodations without detailing what happened and what recovery looks like. Neither traumatic experiences nor trauma aftermaths erase our humanity.

We are not stories, and we have no obligation to advance an expected plot. We are people, and we have the right to be treated as people. Our lives, and our stories, are our own.

The death of Finnick was, devastating…Him screaming in pain and then his last scream were he yells “Katniss” was the end of me.

The 1 Thing Your Scenes MUST HAVE

Sully is a good representation of how I want people to react when enthralled by a story I’ve written:

But more often than not, I get a reaction more like this:

Or at least, I did. I couldn’t understand why my writing produced these less-than-stellar responses. I had meticulously worded every sentence. I’d made sure there were exciting parts. I had parceled out backstory, setting, and exposition so the reader could understand what the heck was going on. So why did eyes glaze over while reading my book? Why did MY eyes glaze over while reading my own work? 

The problem, I finally found out, was that my scenes didn’t turn. 

I was cramming all that exposition in right out of the gate, so the reader knew absolutely everything … which meant there wasn’t anything to find out. The scenes were just tiny chronicles where the main character set out to do something and accomplished it with flying colors. Nothing ever happened that surprised him. And consequently, nothing ever happened to surprise the reader.  

I wasn’t withholding information, and revealing it methodically. 

I wasn’t letting the story spin in new directions. It was always chugging along the straightforward track where I’d dropped my reader.

I wasn’t letting my scenes TURN.

To illustrate what I mean, here’s an example of a great scene with a great turn from a wonderful movie: Beauty and the Beast

*Opening music that makes me want to cry from how beautiful it is*

Beat 1:

“Once upon a time, in a faraway land a young prince lived in a shining castle…” (Action: Apparently the world takes action to make sure this prince lives a cushy existence.)

“Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind.” (Reaction: And he acts like a brat anyway.)

Beat 2:

“But then, one winter’s night, and old beggar woman came to the castle and offered a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.” (Action)

“Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift, and turned the old woman away.” (Reaction)

Beat 3:

“But she warned him, not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.” (Action)

“And when he dismissed her again …” (Reaction)

Beat 4:

“The old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.” (Action)

“The prince tried to apologize …” (Reaction) 


Beat 5:

“But it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.” (Action)

“Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.” (Reaction)

Beat 6:

“The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, that would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.” (Action)

“As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope.”  (Reaction)

“For who could ever learn to love a beast?”

Turn: The 6th beat is the turn. The story has spun in a new direction, the direction the WHOLE STORY will motor towards. 

Revelation: There’s the big one of the scene turn, but I love how every action and reaction in this prologue feels like a revelation. Each one feels like it could be a scene on it’s own, but it’s told in a just few words, with beautiful imagery. There’s no fluff in this, nothing unnecessary, everything is perfectly needed. (Sorry, I just really love this opening. I can remember sitting in my little wicker rocking chair when I was four watching this in awe. This movie is one of the reasons I’m story obsessed.)

NOW let’s remove all curiosity and surprise from this scene. 

We’ll take away the atmosphere of “all is not as it seems”, the “seeking and learning significant information” feeling, the sense that we’re climbing to something significant. Instead of withholding and revealing snippets of information, after gradual beat-by-beat escalation of curiosity, we’ll dump all information right away. We’ll take this beautiful scene, and make it distinctly not a scene by removing all traces of a turn.

So! The purpose of this “section” of story is to communicate necessary information. What info? The guy used to be a terrible prince. Someone cursed him to be a beast. His castle and the people who live there are also cursed. He’s got a rose that will bloom until he’s 21. He’s supposed to fall in love with someone and get that person to love him back.  Or he’s going to be a beast forevermore. So, let’s give it a whirl.

Let’s say it opens up on Lumiere and the Beast. They’re just hanging out in the West Wing, the Beast watching the rose sparkle, Lumiere extinguishing and reigniting his left candle/hand for something to do.

LUMIERE: “So Master, it’s been years since you were turned into a beast and the castle staff was turned into objects.”

BEAST: “Yup.”

L: “I wish you hadn’t have upset that enchantress, and been a bit kinder.”

B: “Me too. Don’t know how.”

L: “Now our only hope to return to our human forms, is if you fall in love and get that person to fall in love with you.”

B: *Noncommittal grunt*

L: “Better happen soon, before that last petal on the magical rose falls. When you turn 21, it’s going to fall. And if you haven’t learned to love by then, well, we’re stuck.”

B: “I’m aware." 

L: "Yup.”

B: “Yup.”

Well, that was extraordinarily awful. 

So what about these scenes is different? (Besides one being a work of art and the other being agony in text form.) 

– One withholds information and reveals it slowly, turning the story at the end. 

– One is just an info dump. 

So how can a turn be accomplished?  There are four types of turns: 

– Surprise

– Amplified Curiosity 

– New Insight

– Spin in New Direction

A SURPRISE turn is the difference between what the character expects and what actually happens, surprising them, surprising the reader/audience that is enthralled by your story. A CURIOSITY turn is when a new mystery is presented to the reader, increasing their drive to find out what happens next. An INSIGHT one is when a scene ends by solving a mystery, answering a question that the audience has been wondering about. And a SPIN is just that, a turn that jolts the story into a new unexpected direction.

And how do they work in a scene? 

The turn happens at the end. It’s the point of the scene. Everything’s leading to it. Think of it as the period punctuation mark on the end of the sentence that is your scene. But really your reader is anticipating that turn throughout the scene.
It’s this anticipation and “gradual illumination” that’s crucial to a story turn. This is the wonderful curious feeling that keeps us turning pages. That sense that “all is not as it seems, and if I keep reading I’ll find out the truth.” which is so intoxicating. And this is accomplished with beats, the exchanges of action and reaction, each acting like a escalation on a roller coaster, each increasing anticipation for the drop. 

Turns and revelation anticipation are rather magical when you think about it. They really are (as Robert McKee says) the substance of story. (Or they’re magical to me. I said I was obsessed. Blame this movie!) 

Now I’m going to go watch Beauty and the Beast again.

You know that terribly stupid dumb movie cliche where the girl takes off her glasses and straightens her hair and she suddenly hot?

That’s Jamie Benn right now. Like, he’s no longer your best friends awkward and shy little brother. He grew a beard. He’s walking down the stairs in slow mo.

You don’t even care about the bet. You want to take him to prom.

Claudia and Stiles, June 1998.

Here’s another sneak peek for the final chappy of Home, which I’m aiming to post in June (60 drawings + Lupus = Julie needs extra time) but now it’s 42 paintings down, 18 to go!! Thanks for your unending patience ♥

confession time, here’s what i got

Summary: In which Otabek and Yuri pine for each other a lot, and manage to drag other people into their own problems. (otayuri week day 1! prompt: confessions, otayuri, side pairings viktuuri and saramila, word count: 4095)


Otabek figures out that he loves Yuri when he is twenty-one.

It’s during Yuri’s nineteenth birthday, too. His plane lands exactly at midnight, and he’s rushing to get his baggage as quick as he can to meet his best friend. He sees him the moment he claims baggage – it isn’t hard to miss his long hair or his leopard jacket – and he stretches his arms out as Yuri bolts over to him.

In the next minute, he has him in his arms, and he hears a cheerful, “Beka!” in his ears, and, oh, he realizes. He is in love.

Keep reading

for valentine’s day, even shows up at isak’s place, wearing a white buttoned up shirt, a large bouquet of roses in one hand and a box of chocolate in the other. a red, heart-shaped, chocolate box. eskild’s the one opening the door for him, and when he does, he looks at him and exclaims “oh for fuck’s sake”, shaking his head. “do you have to rub it in our faces? like, have some consideration, even” and even can’t help but chuckle. he takes a rose from the bouquet and hands it to eskild. “happy valentine’s day, eskild” and eskild takes it and stares at it before he says “unbelievable” but all even can hear is the smile in his voice 

and then even’s knocking on isak’s door, and opening it before he gets an answer. isak’s sitting on his bed, a textbook on his lap, and when he looks up and sees even, even and his proud smile and his raised eyebrows, his eyes widen a little. the thing is that even isn’t doing this seriously. he is a bit of a romantic. well, he’s a big, hopeless romantic. but he’s never given isak flowers and chocolate and it’s not a gesture he expects isak to be touched by. he sort of expects isak to look at him with an incredulous smile and he expects him to shake his head and he expects him to say something along the lines “are you for real, even?”, to which he’d reply “yup, totally” 

but isak is sort of just. looking at him, biting the inside of his lower lip, and he’s not saying anything. and even can’t quite read his eyes, so he frowns, confused, and he goes to sit on his bed next to him, flowers and chocolate at their feet and he whispers “hey you”. he grabs isak’s hand and starts drawing circles with his thumb on his palm and he asks “what’s up?” and isak looks at him, and then he looks down, and then he opens his mouth and closes it again. and there’s a silence, even doesn’t know how long it lasts, he just keeps stroking isak’s palm. and then isak sighs, looks up, looks at him in the eyes and he says “i was thinking. earlier today, like, seeing these posts on facebook, i was thinking. i’ve never spent valentine’s day with”. isak swallows, sighs again. “i’ve never been with someone i wanted to be with you know? on valentine’s day last year, i got with sara and. that’s not what i wanted you know?” he shakes his head a little, lines on his forehead. “it’s not about valentine’s day, you know? it’s just -” 

after a few seconds, isak doesn’t finish his sentence and even’s just wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. he kisses the top of his head a couple of times, whispers “i know” against his hair. even never asked isak about his past relationships, always let isak come talk to him when he wanted to, when he needed to. and isak did, sometimes, like that time when they were watching a movie and he told even “i only like boys, you know? i mean, right now you’re the only boy i like, but in general i only like boys” and even smiled and kissed his temple and said “and there’s nothing wrong with that” 

the side of isak’s face is against even’s shoulder and he inhales his scent, warm breath falling on even’s neck everytime he exhales and he says quietly “i’m just glad to have you” and he raises his chin up, and even kisses him once, replies “i’m glad to have you, too” and kisses him again, three, four times. they stay like this for a while, before isak reaches for the chocolate box. when he opens it, the first thing he notices is that there’s one missing, and he raises an eyebrow at even and even gives an innocent shrug and says “what? i was hungry”. and isak’s laughing this time, and when even sees the light in his eyes and the smile lines framing his mouth, when he hears isak sigh happily, he thinks that he can’t believe his luck, and that he’d go buy chocolate from all the stores in isak’s neighborhood if it meant he gets to keep seeing this exact look on his face 

Eric Harris’ last journal entry

“Months have passed. Its the first Friday night in the final month. much shit has happened. Vodka has a Tec 9, we test fired all of our babies, we have 6 time clocks ready, 39 crickets, 24 pipe bombs, and the napalm is under construction. Right now I’m trying to get fucked and trying to finish off these time bombs. NBK came quick. why the fuck cant I get any? I mean, I’m nice and considerate and all that shit, but nooooo. I think I try to hard. but I kinda need to considering NBK is closing in. The amount of dramatic irony and foreshadowing is fucking amazing. Everything I see and I hear I incorporate into NBK somehow. Either bombs, clocks, guns, napalm, killing people, any and everything finds some tie to it. feels like a Goddamn movie sometimes. I wanna try to put some mines and trip bombs around this town too maybe. Get a few extra flags on the scoreboard. I hate you people for leaving me out of so many fun things. And no don’t fucking say, “well thats your fault” because it isnt, you people had my phone #, and I asked and all, but no. no no no dont let the weird looking Eric KID come along, ohh fucking nooo.”
4/3/99

Be patient with me guys, It’s been a lot of years since I drew something related to Yu-Gi-Oh!… when I was a kid I used to draw Yami a lot, he was like my first love and I really enjoyed to draw him.. I’m still trying to figure how or when I stopped drawing him and why… 

The hype about the new movie is hard in me right now…

send help…

You’re My First - Clay Jensen Smut

Clay Jensen x reader

Request: Can you do an imagine where the reader gives her first blowjob to Clay who is also receiving his first? And/or leading to loosing their virginity

WARNINGS: Smut, swearing


“What do you want to watch princess?”

“I don’t care, you can pick whatever.” I’m laid up with Clay in his room as he surfs the guide. It’s a Saturday night and I rather be with my boyfriend than home alone. Granted we are alone right now, being that his parents are out at some function, but at least we are alone together. I trace circle on his clothed chest as his eyes are focused on the TV, finding something to watch. I can tell that he is pretending to be into the TV so that he doesn’t need to focus on my hand against him. I snuggle more into him as he sucks his teeth.

“There are no good movies on babe” he says, throwing the remote down as the TV stopped on Full House. 

“Then we don’t watch TV, we can do something else anyway” I say, as I slide my hand under his shirt. He looks a little nervous as he looks down at my hand. 

“Like what?” He sounded a little nervous, but flirty at the same time. I move my leg across his torso and put my lips up to his ear. 

“Anything.” I pur. He looks down at me, his eyes on mine. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I know he wants nothing more than to feel my lips on his. As if he read my mind, he pulled my face up to his, pressing his lips onto mine. The kiss was nice and slow. It’s like our lips were made for each other. His tongue grazed my bottom lip as he asked for an entrance. I didn’t allow him in to tease him and he squeezed my thigh making me yelp. When I opened my mouth he stuck his tongue in, softly wrestling with mine. I rolled on top of him and sat on his lap, never breaking our kiss. The kiss suddenly went from slow and sweet to more rougher and needy. Clay’s hands were on my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. When I started to slowly move my hips against his, Clay suddenly withdrew from me.

“What’s wrong, why’d you stop” I pant as he avoided my eyes. When he didn’t say anything, I got worried.

“Did I do something?” I ask. His eyes found mine again and quickly shook his head.

“No no no, god no. It’s just I’m getting a little um..a little-”

“Horny” I smirk, looking down between us and seeing him semi-hard. He looked embarrassed and nodded his head. A giggle at his nervous state.

“So what babe.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you.” He said looking down.

“Last time I checked, we are both virgins. And what if I’m ready.” His eyes widen and he swallowed hard. 

“A-are you sure, cause I’m not rushing at all trust me, I can wa-” I stop him from rambling on by crushing my lips on his. 

“Clay, I love you and I’m ready. I mean if your not that’s fi-”

“No! I am, it’s just we don’t have to. It won’t make me love you any less if we don’t.” I smile at his cuteness and press my forehead against his. 

“I’m ready Clay.” I pull on his shirt so that our lips collide again. Feeling his body against mine made me loose the fear in the moment and only made me want him more. I pull away to take my shirt off as he took off his. He stared at my bra and looked away when he noticed I saw. I pulled his faced back towards me and smiled.

“I’m all yours Clay.” With that, his mood lightened up as his hands cup both of my breast squeezing. I threw my head back as I felt his lips on my neck, sucking lightly. 

“Your so beautiful y/n.” He unclasped my bra and I suddenly felt so exposed and nervous. He can tell I felt weird by my face.

“Don’t be shy about your body, you look amazing.” I smiled and loosened up as his lips went to my breast. His lips attacked one of my nipples, while softly massaging the other. I bit my lip to keep me from moaning as his sucking got more harsh, making my core wet. I started to hump back and forth on his now rock hard member, making him groan against my breast making me moan. The friction beneath us was killing me and I want nothing more than to take everything off. I unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down as far as I could without moving off his lap. 

“Clay can I try something?” I pant as his sucking went from my breast to my neck, surely leaving like 10 bruises. 

“What is it babe?” He said, not breaking his series of kisses. 

“I-I um want to please you..” I felt his kissing stop as he stayed there, probably waiting for me to finish, or just not knowing what to say. Probably both. 

“You know..please you down there.” I felt so shy asking him, but I really wanted to make him feel good like he does to me. I just want to do it in a more intimate way. 

“U-um I don’t know y/n, you don’t need t-”

“I want to.” He looks at a lost for words, debating on what to say. When we takes to long, I just take matters into my own hands. I slide off of him, sliding his pants all the way down, along with his underwear. When I did, his dick sprung all the way up, smacking again his stomach. I positioned myself so that I was in between his legs with my butt in the air, looking up at him. 

“Y/n stop you don’t hav-” I quiet him by slowly taking his entire member into my mouth, almost gagging. I come back up, licking his tip while pumping him with my hand. 

“Oh my-” Clay’s eyes were shut tight as he threw his body back. I flattened my tongue against the side of his shaft before taking him in my mouth again, pumping in and out faster. 

“Fuck babe, that feels good” He’s a moaning mess above me as he looks down at me sucking him. His eyes are glued to mine as I look up at him through my eyelashes, pumping my hand faster. He’s a groaning mess as he continues to do a string of curses. Unaware of what he’s doing, Clay starts thrusting into my mouth, making me even more wet. He grabs my ponytail and that was my motivation to go faster. I take all of him in my mouth, not caring that I was gagging, as I started picking up my speed. I start to moan with him still inside me and that threw him over the edge. 

“Fuck! y/n I’m about t-” He doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he releases inside of my mouth. I swallow what’s left as he pulls me up to him, kissing me passionately, still panting.

“Sorry that I did that, I should have told you I was…you know.” I smirk at what he was trying to say, “That’s okay, I liked it.”

Clay turns us over and starts peppering kisses down my neck. He kisses all the way to my stomach as he pulls my underwear off. He comes back to my lips, smashing his with mine, his hands roaming all over my naked body. He stops and looks at me.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked genuinely. 

“More sure than anything.” I smiled. He pulled off of me and got something from his desk draw. When he came back, he hovered back over me, pulling on a condom. When he started having trouble pushing it on, I held in my giggle, stopping his hands. 

“Let me help.” I unraveled it, slowly pushing it on his member, making sure to lightly squeeze him in the process, making him groan. I wanted this, his body on mine.

“I’ll be gentle” he breathed, his voice soft, “Just tell me if it hurts.” I pulled his face closer to me, making that as a sign for him to go. He starts to slowly push into me, giving me this stretching and ripping feeling throughout my body. I try to adjust to him as he continues pushing in slowly. I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping into his mouth as I grabbed his arms tightly. I whimpered as I just waited for the pain to go away. He pulled away from my lips as he looked at me.

“Is this okay?” he pants, looking at my face for any bad reaction. I nod my head, wanting him to keep going. 

“Yes baby, keep going.” I try to focus on the pleasure, even though I can still very much feel the pain. I was slightly tense and as if Clay sensed that, he started dropping kisses against my jawline, making me more relaxed. I started grinding my hips up against his and wrapped my legs around his back. He started thrusting a little faster, his eyes shut as he started groaning. I moan, tilting my head back into the pillows. As his speed picked up, the pain slowly subsided, giving me nothing but pleasure. I felt his weight on me, his body against mine and I realized just how much he meant to me. 

“Fuck princess, you feel amazing” he moans into my neck. I tighten my grip around my neck, moaning into his ear. 

“Baby f-faster please” I whimper. He did just that, his thrust getting deeper and deeper. His body slap against mine and all I can hear are our loud moans and the headboard against the wall. He picked up his speed even more making me dig my nails into his back, surely leaving a mark. 

“Fuck baby!” He screams, drilling into me. My breast are jumping up and down as I scream louder, the pleasure becoming overpowering.

“Clay! oh my god!” The faster his thrust got, the more I felt my stomach clench up. My body started to stiffen as he kept pushing in and out of me, on and on. 

“Come for me baby” he whispers and I let go.

“Fuck Clay!” My body went limp as I exploded. He kept pumping through my orgasm as I squeeze around him and in the same second, he screamed out my name, releasing himself. With both of us still panting and breathing heavily, I open my eyes to see Clay staring back at me. He slides off of me, laying his head on my bare chest. I run my hands threw his hair, kissing it after.

“That was amazing babe” I breath out, earning a nod from him.

“If that was amazing, wait till next time.”


A/N - This was my first Clay smut!!! Hope you liked it, I did!! 

dating brad would include...

• forehead kisses

• bear hugs

• cuddle, pizza & movie dates

• falling asleep while cuddling

• neck kisses

• tickle fights

• “can I kiss you now?”

• calling him cute all the time

• “stop calling me cute, I’m manly”

• only getting into fights when he’s jealous

• him pouting when he wants a kiss

• waking up in his arms

• him complimenting you during sex

• “you look so pretty right now babe”

• playing with his hair

• this boy is definitely a top

• “come her princess”

• your parents loving him

• he’s cheeky when no one is around

• slow and sweet kisses

Oh swEET JESUS I NEED A BRAD

hey I’m new so feel free to leave requests!

When you should be doing something but end up doing everything else but that...
Sexting

Aries: “Send me a nude”
Taurus: “come FUCK me right now”
Gemini: “Want to come over and watch a movie”
Cancer: “Hey come cuddle”
Leo: *Drops an unexpected nude in your dms
Virgo: *Doesn’t know what that is
Libra: “I want to fuck the shit out of you right now”
Scorpio: *doesn’t need to sext cuz they already fucked you good.
Sagittarius: “babe FaceTime me I wanna see it all”
Capricorn: “Come choke me”
Aquarius: “Come give me head”
Pisces: “I want to bend you over and fuck you slow”

We all need some sweet fluff right now. Here, have a cookie.


“Babe, I lied,” Magnus whispers to him as Jimmy Kimmel goes through his opening monologue, talking at length about Isabelle’s movie and its twelve nominations.

Alec frowns, turning to face him. “What?”

“I lied,” Magnus repeats, and his voice trembles just slightly enough for Alec to know he is serious. “I’m not cool about this. At all.”

He smiles the most reassuring smile he can muster, bringing Magnus’ hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. “I know,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be alright. You’re allowed to be nervous, it’s okay. I’ll be just here and hold your hand.”

“If I die, I want you to raise Chairman Meow as your own,” Magnus tells him solemnly.

“He’s already my own,” he replies softly. “And you’re not going to die. You’re going to win that shit because you’re the best and Morgenstern can suck it.”

“Oh God, if he wins, I quit this career to move to a nice and warm country and become a tarot reader, I swear.”

Alec chuckles, rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. “And where would that leave me?”

“As if I’d leave without you,” Magnus retorts at once and Alec smirks.