wasn’t referring to verbal truth. I
was referring to,” and then there was a brief pause that was followed by a light press to
the center of your stomach. Your back laid flat against the wooden bench before the predatory loom of his figure appeared overhead, “Candor of the body. Which you, my love, are the
absolute queen of.”
With an exchanged swipe, taste forthcoming as the two of you
had intended. Too sweet, muttered against your lips – lips that curved
into ones of amusement at his feigned disfavor for your particular arrangement
of the poison. Too bitter, slipped past your teeth in retort, the air of
the syllables brushing against his breath; a dance of icy exhales in a burning
winter night. His mouth twitched at that, following your suit into similar
enjoyment of the playful critique.
“Maybe not my coffee, but sweet in other aspects, no?” He
spoke in a devilish dialect of insinuation and lust; one that, before
encountering him, was unfamiliar to you. Adoration, it managed to claw at your
chest with great vigor each and every time he glanced down at you through
darkened tufts of raven hair. His words wrapping their way around you entirely
until they sounded of music. The notes gliding across your bones as his voice
conducted your motions.
The Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect, a human rights organization named after the Jewish girl who died of typhus in Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler’s Bergen-Belsen concentration camp during World War II, denounced White House press secretary Sean Spicer for engaging in “Holocaust denial” and demanded his firing after Spicer suggested even “someone as despicable as Hitler … didn’t even sink to using chemical weapons” at a press conference on Tuesday.
Hitler, of course, gassed millions and killed millions of others with conventional weapons during the Holocaust, when his regime rounded up scores of Jews and others for extermination in concentration camps. (Spicer did not help things by later inartfully referring to those camps as “the Holocaust centers.”)
The press secretary brought up the topic of his own volition while discussing the White House’s response to Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad’s repeated use of banned chemical weapons on civilians. Read more.(4/11/2017 5:50 PM)
So… I had this idea earlier today and I’ve been working on it since 3PM. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx
The house is empty and silent, much different than when you first arrived and the last bottles of beer and wine have been tossed in the bin just outside of Harry’s kitchen. You’ve managed to tidy things up a bit, make the house less messy than when his drunk guests left almost half an hour ago and now, after washing your hands from the sticky remnants of beer that got all over them while you cleaned up, you can finally try and find him and bid your goodbyes.
When you do find him, he’s sitting on his couch, legs spread open and a hand resting on his tummy, his head tipped back and resting against the back of the couch, a frown on his forehead and his lips pressed in a tight line - if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s fighting nausea but you know the truth. You know he’s just about to pass out and sleep for the rest of the night on his couch and the only thing he’s waiting for is for you to leave - he’s too much of a gentleman to let you just leave without saying goodbye.
Smiling, you stand between his legs, one knee resting on the small bit of the couch that’s available and you lean forward, hand reaching for the curls that fall across his forehead, your fingers pushing it back in a slow rub against his scalp and he hums in appreciation of the gesture.
“Everyone’s gone.” You inform him, thumb smoothing across the frown lines on his forehead and he relaxes under your touch, his face turning softer, his lips opening around a sigh of contentment. “I’ve cleaned up so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”
“Didn’t have to.” He says and you can see his sleepy green eyes open to glare at you, but the effect of his intended angry stare is just a grumpy and pouty, too sleepy to look menacing stare. “‘M a grown man, can do my own cleaning.”
“Know you are…” You giggle, cupping his face in one of your hands and rubbing your thumb across his pouty lips. “Just wanted to help.”
This is just a lot of smut cause I am thirsty as fuckkkkkkkkk.
The moment you laid eyes on Thomas you knew you wanted him. It was an instant attraction. You gravitated towards him before you even realized your feet were moving, the second he stepped in the room. He seemed to feel the same, his whiskey eyes following your every movement. There was only one problem. Brenda.
Imagine a wild night in Rome with your husband after the last day of JibCon.
Characters: Jensen x Reader
Warnings: fluff, Jensen gyrating(Yes it’s a warning), SMUT, some dirty talk
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: I able to work this into my 30 Days of Jensen and Dean (That has gone on ENTIRELY too long.) This is fic number TWENTY-FOUR. The line, “Bring me some pie,” was requested by @percywinchester27. It was supposed to be fluff, but you can’t always get what you want. ;) This is just smutty, smut because all of the JibCon photos got me WORKED UP. (sigh) I also promised Ana so gyrating Jensen and this was the perfect opportunity for it. Not so much obviously drunk Jensen, but it’s hot either way. ;)
Okay. I’m so sorry guys, I know it’s been about 80000 years since I’ve posted but I’ve just had really bad writers block and I’ve been really busy with work and school and whatnot but here it is.
This was a request from an anon: “Could you please make an imagine where the reader is given to Mistah J because they were in debt to him. He immediately because super obsessed with her, but the reader is very scared of him <3 <3″
This is like decently close to the request just i couldn’t figure out what to write. I’m sorry!!!!!
“Please, no Mr. Joker, I’ll give you anything. You can have anything.” You saw the man beg for his life, for another chance. It disgusted you to see him like this. To see the man you once knew as your father beg for drugs. You shook your head in disgust and turned away. You had no idea why but he insisted you be there with him, maybe it’s ‘cause he knew it could very well be one of his last days, if not his last.
“Anything?” The green haired man purred as he circled your father. Your father nodded and looked you in the eyes as if he were apologizing. Confusion clouded your mind as to why he would be apologizing. Maybe it was for being a shitty father, or for making you witness this horrid interaction.
“You can have my daughter,” he stated simply. You eyes snapped open and your back straightened.
“Excuse me? No you can’t have me and what the fuck dad?” You said in disbelief.
“Oh she’s feisty, I like her. You’ve got yourself a deal there Mr. You can keep your life, and your drugs, in exchange for this lovely creature,” he said as his looked you up and down, drinking in every detail of your body.
“No. Dad what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not actually serious are you?” Your voice dropped as the look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact serious about selling you to the Joker.
“I’m sorry Y/N. There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had gotten to this point. Your heart broke as you watched the man you once looked up to pick drugs over his own daughter.
“Oh we are going to have so much fun together little miss Y/N,” the Joker snarled in your ear. You flinched as his hands came down on your shoulders.
“Dad… How could you?” He looked down in shame and walked out of the room without a word. Tears were streaming steadily down your face as you stared at the door he had just left through.
“Hm. Dads, am I right?” The Joker broke the silence in the room. “Hi doll face, I’m the Joker, the man that your father is seriously indebted to, and you belong to me now! You can call me Mr. J,” he said, extending a hand towards you as if to shake hands. You glanced down at his hand and ignored the offer. “Oh sweetheart now that’s just rude. That won’t fly doll. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gonna have to teach you a lesson then. Take a seat,” he said as he pulled you down to sit next to him. His face got serious and you knew you were in trouble. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I want, when I want, and where I want. If you disobey me sweetcheeks, you get punished. Are we clear doll face?” He gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You nodded and he released your face. “What’s your name sweets?”
“Y/N,” you said simply. He stared at you with a bored look as if he was expecting you to say more. You stared back in defiance and he let out a long displeased groan.
“Not a talker are we? I can change that y’know,” he said with a maniacal smile as he pulled his shiny gun out of the holster under his jacket. He lifted the gun and caressed your soft cheeks with the cool, hard metal. You stared him dead in his crazy eyes as he tried to scare you with the powerful weapon in his hands. His face fell as he realized you weren’t scared and you wouldn’t open up to him. “Now tell me doll, am I gonna have to find some other ways of getting you to open that pretty mouth of yours?”
“Fine. What do you want to know. You get three questions, choose wisely,” you said, boredom dripping in your words. Your father had dragged you in to a world of guns and violence, this was not the first time you had been threatened at gun point and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
The Joker raised his non-existent eyebrow and stared you down. He was vastly impressed by your cool composure and lack of fear. Most in your shoes would be trembling, begging for their dear lives but you, you just sat there, bored with his games and his old intimidation tactics.
“And who do you think you are making demands?” He sneered angrily.
“I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Question one, two more to go. Like I said Mr. J, choose wisely.”
“I like your spunk sweetcheeks. Alright, why aren’t you scared? Most people would be terrified out of their minds, why not you?” He inquired.
“You’re not the first basket case my father has pissed off. I’ve been tied down, beat, interrogated, the works. I’m used to it now. My father owes a lot of people a lot of money but what they always fail to realize is that I mean little to nothing to him. I must admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re different than the others. He’s offered me up before y’know? No one’s ever agreed but you, you fell for it,” you explained. He stared at you with a confused look spread across is tattooed porcelain skin. “Stop staring,” you said.
He stared at you open mouthed and went to wrap his hand around your neck only to retract quickly. “You doll, are special, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have. Last question, do you like the left or the right side of the bed?” He threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his infamous laugh ringing through your ears and the small room you two were seated in.
You rolled your eyes and mentally groaned at the stupidity of this man. “Right,” you said as you got up from the small couch. “Can we go now? I would really like to get out of here and take a shower. I’m assuming there’ll be towels and whatnot ready for me? Clothes maybe?” He shook his head at you and wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked back.
“Now listen here Y/N, just because you’re not scared of me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of the things I’ve done and trust me honey, I can do worse,” he spoke in a deep, threatening voice. You felt the tip of his gun press against the center of your back. You had to admit that you were a little scared. The other men you dealt with were nothing like him. He was deadly, ruthless, and he could crack at any moment. “Now that we have the all cleared up let’s get this show on the road shall we?” His mood switched instantly.
A while later you pulled up to a lavish place. You were unsure of what to expect from him but you figured it shouldn’t surprise you that he lives in such an extravagant set up. He pulled you up from your elbow and you followed him inside. It was beautiful as you had expected upon seeing the outside of the house. Gold everything, marble counters, purple accents strewn around the house.
You glanced around, taking in what would be your new house.
“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled to yourself mostly. His hands came down on your shoulders in a gentle way, his hands travelling up and down your shoulders. You leaned your head to the side allowing a pleasant stretch to the tense muscles of your neck. “Do you live here all alone?” you inquired.
“No, the maid lives here, a few of my more trusted henchmen, for security measures. Not that I couldn’t protect myself, just don’t wanna do all the work myself,” he answered. You hummed in acknowledgement and continued to scan the room around you. “The room’s upstairs, I already had some of my men pick up your stuff from your father’s place, if you need anything else just tell me and I’ll send someone out to get it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. You nodded, and dragged yourself up to what looked like a spare room. You plopped down on the bed and let out a long sigh.
So this is what my life is like now, you thought to yourself, looking around the lavish room. Joker stepped up to the doorway and stared you down before sitting down next to you on the big fluffy bed. “Why am I here Joker?”
“Please, call me Mr. J, Joker sounds… Too formal. I want you here because you’re a beautiful girl, your father did me wrong, and I want to make him pay.”
“Hah… Well jokes on you Mr. J. My father doesn’t care about me. Keeping me here is doing nothing but giving him the chance to shamelessly waste away without me yelling at him. You’re doing him a favor,” you explained. He nodded and spread a wide silver grin across his pale tattooed face.
“Y’know doll, maybe I just want your lovely company,” he said sarcastically.
“Y’know, maybe I just can’t stand your company,” you retorted. Before you could react, his hand came across your skin with a harsh sting. The force behind it made you fall back and place a tender touch on your cheek. You looked down, cowering away in fear. You loved to put on the tough girl act. Sure, you had dealt with crazies but nothing that ever came close to the Joker.
A slow tear dripped down your soft cheek. His eyes widened at the realization that he had made you cry. “Can you please leave me alone,” you muttered.
“Shit Y/N are you okay doll?” His voice was a bit quieter than before.
“Please just leave.” You were shaking, terrified to be in the same room as this psychotic, dangerous man.
“What’s wrong sweets?” You looked at him with a look of disbelief.
“You just slapped me across the face. If I’m being totally honest, I’m terrified right now. You scare the living daylights out of me. The moment I saw you I was scared for my life. I don’t want you in here. If I’m going to have to live with you I want to be left alone… I don’t want to be scared for my life. Please just go…” He looked at you, shock on his face.
“Alright. If you need something you can let someone know.” He placed a hand on your hunched back and left.
A small part of you felt bad for banishing him from your life but it wasn’t right for him to treat you in such an awful manner. You let out a sigh and laid down on the comfortable bed. Before you knew it you had slipped in to a deep sleep, forgetting about the disaster your life had become.
Taeyang has been appointed honorary ambassador for the PyeongChang 2018 Olympics!!!
There will be an official event on June 21 at The Seoul Foreign Correspondents’ Club, on the 18th floor of the Korean Press Center in Seoul.
At the ceremony YB will receive a commemorative plaque and a large business card. He’ll also greet the press and a Q&A session will follow
She finds Trini at the quarry before
sunrise, face tilted against the pearly gray sky, poised at the crest of jagged
rock. She is a masterpiece in silhouette, harsh edges smoothed by cool shadow,
baggy pants hanging low on curvy hips.
“Hey,” Kimberly says, voice low,
hesitant to disturb the quiet. “Been here long?”
Trini turns toward her, shedding
shadow as she steps off the ridge. Her face is suddenly cast in the first rays
of morning light, dew catching crystal bright on the toes of chunky, repurposed
“Just since six,” Trini answers
shrugging. “You’re right on time.” She reaches Kimberly all at once, stretching
out to tug at the hem of Kimberly’s sweatshirt. “Pink. Cute.”
Kimberly reaches out to box at
Trini’s ears, a yellow beanie pulled low over her forehead. “I could say the
Trini blocks her halfway there,
catching at her wrist with careful fingers, pulling her hand close against her
chest. “Watch it, Hart.”
Kimberly would say it started here: with her
hand against Trini’s collarbone and Trini’s lips curled into that small, just
so smile. Though the landscape is a portraiture in charcoal, a gray sky
sweeping low over the horizon, ashen quarry rock stretching to meet it, Trini
is a marvel of color.
You were horny. You weren’t going to sugarcoat it, you weren’t
going to play it off. You. Were. Horny. You’d been aching between your legs all
day as you straightened the house, took a cold shower, and glanced at the clock
every five seconds anticipating Harry’s return home. He’d been off doing press
tours and promo. You missed him in more ways than one, and your fingers were
not a sufficient replacement for him.
As you were sitting back in your shared office, fingernails
tapping impatiently on the glass desk top, the inside of your cheeks bitten
raw, did you hear the front door open. You jumped up, your desire propelling
you forward. “’M home!” Harry called from the foyer.
While President Trump handled a national security crisis right in front of dozens of patrons at his Mar-a-Lago hotel in Florida on Saturday, one resort member posted a flurry of photos to Facebook showing Trump reviewing sensitive documents, conferring with top aides, and talking on the phone.
The images also raised questions about the level of access Mar-a-Lago members have to the Trump administration — a seeming blend of government and personal business for the president.
Richard DeAgazio, a Massachusetts businessman and Trump supporter, shared the photos that show he had a front-row seat as Trump and Japanese Prime Minister Shinzō Abe handled the response to North Korea’s firing a missile in the direction of Japan.
“HOLY MOLY !!! It was fascinating to watch the flurry of activity at dinner when the news came that North Korea had launched a missile in the direction of Japan,” DeAgazio posted. “The Prime Minister Abe of Japan huddles with his staff and the President is on the phone with Washington DC. the two world leaders then conferred and then went into another room for hastily arranged press conference. Wow…..the center of the action!!!”
In an interview with the Washington Post, DeAgazio described the situation unfolding before him at dinner on Saturday night before the two left to hold a joint press conference.
“There wasn’t any panicked look. Most of the people [on the terrace] didn’t even realize what was happening,” DeAgazio said. “I thought he handled it very calmly, and very presidentially.”
This episode is not the only time the DeAgazio, a former president at Boston Capital, whose Twitter profile describes him as a “Consultant ,SAG Actor, entrepreneur, network marketer,” claimed to witness over the weekend.
In another post, DeAgazio claimed to be photographed alongside “Rick” who “carries the “football” — a briefcase that contains all the details necessary to launch a nuclear attack.
For my dear @edierone, in response to her fantastic prompt: “The directions were unclear, but they’ve clearly missed a turn or something; they’re miles away from where they were supposed to be, and definitely going to miss the last flight out.”
Timeline: Season 7, post Rush
A/N: Mega-thanks to @piecesofscully for giving it the once over and correcting my mistakes. I swear to God, I will one day learn where commas go and when to capitalize or not capitalize things…
The busy expressway they had been barrelling down has slowly transitioned and narrowed into a one lane highway. Scully adjusts her speed, guiding the silver Taurus along a soft curve through the thick Virginia forest. Mulder is quiet in the passenger seat, an unopened bag of sunflower seeds sitting untouched in the cupholder as he gazes at the passing trees through the window. He jumps in surprise at the gentle touch of Scully’s hand sliding over his knee, the soft caress startling him out of his reverie.
“Sorry. I guess I zoned out there for a little bit, Scully.”
Scully smiles, her eyes jumping back and forth from his face to the bumpy country road. “I said I think I might have missed a turn or an exit some ways back. Can you check the map?”
Mulder nods his head and reaches for the glove box, digging through receipts and paperwork.
“You ok, Mulder? You’re awfully quiet. You haven’t said much since leaving the hospital.”
Mulder speaks as he unfolds the map. “Sorry, I uh, I guess I’ve just been lost in nostalgia. This case has me reminiscing about what it was like to be a teenager, the desire to always be older and faster, the excitement for new stages of life, the angst. I think you should turn around up here.”
Scully slows down and checks the surrounding traffic before swinging the car into a U-turn.
“Do you miss it?” she asks.
“What?” he asks as he studies the Virginia state map.
“Being a teenager.”
He looks up from his lap to ponder the question before responding. “No. Yes. No.” Heaving a sigh he looks at her and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Hmm.” She pushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and adjusts grip on the steering wheel. “I miss the lack of responsibility, but I certainly don’t miss the tumultuousness of that time.”
Okay but one of my favorite things is riding Harry’s thigh. Maybe it’s been a long day and all you wanted to do was to be with him. He’s been really nice and sweet like his usual self and you two are watching TV when you take a look at what he’s sporting. It wasn’t really too special, but he’s on one of those Hawaiian button downs that shows bits of his chest and tattoos and his boxers. His disheveled hair and his scruff had been doing something for you too, and it’s when you’ve started taking action. You slung your leg over his, pressing your center against his thigh. He raised a brow at you as if questioning what you’re doing, but he never denied it. Instead, he’d placed his hands on your hips, squeezing your fleshy bits. You’d do it so subtly at first to the point that he thinks you’re just readjusting yourself against him, but the first time he hears you whimper, it’s gotten more evident. With your head tucked on his neck, he’ll push you down towards him more just to give you a bit more friction in your lower bits, “Havin’ fun, love?” he’d ask as he helps you with your movement. He’s feeling your wetness against your knickers, and it’s also doing something to him, so he’d make you pause for a second, “Can we take this off, yeah?” he was playing with the band of your underwear as you nod and lift yourself up a bit for him to pull them down to your ankles and off the way. And now the feeling of his bare thigh rubbing against your throbbing clit was driving him insane. He’s watching what you’re doing, watching how wet his thigh is getting from your actions, and watching your face contort into pleasure as you go faster and harsher with your movements. He’d place one of his hands to your face, cupping your cheek, “G’nna cum for me, love? Can feel yeh pulsing,” he says in a rough voice, “Makin’ my thigh so wet,” he bites his lip as he places his thumb just by your lip, pulling at it and you welcome his finger inside your mouth. You moan around him as you feel yourself shudder and come undone on him, rutting against him sloppily as you ride out your orgasm, and he’s just there watching the whole thing unfold in front of him. When you’re done, you rest your head on his shoulder, still trying to catch your breath. He places a kiss on your temple and press you closer to him, “Such a good girl.”