…in a warm bed, cocooned in the softest blankets, your body spooned against Harry’s as his fingertips trace the curve of your hip.
“Up yet?” he whispers into the nape of your neck, voice hoarse from a good night’s sleep in a way that raises goosebumps down your spine. He flats his hand against your belly and gently grinds his hardness against the dip of your lower back.
“Mmmm,” you hum in confirmation, breath hitching when the next little grind wipes thick moisture that’s slicked through the front of his boxers against your skin.
“Up enough to love me a little?” he almost-whispers, the desperation nestled in his voice reflecting the way he’s pressing against you and making you moisten the inside of your panties.
Yeah, you’ve got some errands to run today, some places to be, but hell if you’re not always willing to shift things to the back burner when this man wants you, and you give him your answer by rolling over on top of him and pressing his shoulders flat against the mattress so that you’re straddling him and he’s on his back. His eyes are as swollen with sleep as you imagine yours are, lips puckered for you, wet and cranberry colored. You press a kiss to that mouth, sighing when you smell yourself on his breath from the things did to you last night.
“Want it gentle, if that’s okay,” he says even softer as he snakes a hand down between your bodies and pulls your panties aside. “Still a bit sore from last night,” he admits sheepishly, and you pull back to see a little grin play at his lips as both of you remember the savage way he’d fucked you, the moment he’d screamed for God and the orgasm that hit so hard there were tears.
The memory almost brings a fresh set of tears to your own eyes as you nod and roll your body against him. “Yes, love. That’s okay.”
Harry maneuvers himself out of his underwear and you guide him inside of the place that you keep wet for him, his body shaking under the force of his own arousal as he sinks in deeply. You flatten your torso against his, your hair cascading over both of your faces as you wrap your arms tight around his neck. You set a slow pace pace, riding him in lazy figure eights, biting your bottom lip against the excruciatingly delicious feeling of his thick cock dragging around in circles inside of you.
“God, this pussy…” he whimpers, fingertips digging into your hip as he rocks his hips upwards against you. “So fuckin’ tight… after all the the times I’ve stretched yeh, you’re still so, so fuckin’ tight.”
“Always gonna be this way for you,” you remind him, a hot promise against his collarbone as you grind down a bit harder for him.
You continue to ride him gently, unfocused on your own orgasm if you’re honest, just completely caught up in the way that Harry moans your praises, grabs at your hips and bucks up sloppily against your sex. He is desperate for you, and this morning it shows, and you’d be hard pressed to think of anything more fulfilling this.
“Don’t hold back, if that’s what you’re doing,” you say against his collarbone when you feel the telltale trembling of his abdomen. “We’ll take care of me later, okay? Want you to let go now.”
He moans at that and reaches up to fist his hand in your hair in the way that he does when he’s just barely holding on. “Sure?” he asks, even though his strained voice and taught limbs tell you his body is about to make the choice for him, with or without your blessing.
You nod, the curtain of your hair shaking around you both as you keep riding him, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in concentration. You’re spurred on by the realization of how lucky you both are to have the first sensation you feel today be that of one another, but you try not to let it rile you. He’d asked for gentle, hadn’t he? So, that’s what he’ll get from you. If he wants it rougher, you’ll let it be of his own accord.
He holds you against him impossibly tighter, his arms shaking as they dig into your back. “I love you,” he huffs. “Christ, I love you. I love you and m'yours.” They are desperate promises and frantic truths, tumbling from his lips freely, uninhibited by the intensity of those last few moments before orgasm. “M'gonna cum for you, sweet girl. Already. God, look what you do to me…”
You lick an encouraging stripe up his bottom lip and he makes a sound that’s close to sobbing, pushing his hips up in staccato as you relish every word he wheezes into your mouth. Things like, “s’all for you” and “every last fuckin’ drop” as he finally loses control.
He bucks up so hard you see colors against the back of your eyelids, oranges and reds and yellows like the sunrise outside your bedroom window. Colors that burst bright as he gasps and pulses and squirts the culmination of your love making inside of you. You stay right against his chest, cocooned under the covers, letting him rock into you until he’s drained, until you giggle, until the both of you can see a little clearer and until it’s time to start the day.
This is in celebration of Bucky Barnes reaching 100 years old and in part with @bucky-plums-barnes 100 banging kinks which I am so excited to read all of them!, the list of kinks is HEREalong with the guide lines HERE! Enjoy little sinners x
“How long have you been planning this” eyeing the large stand up mirror that Bucky was placing at the foot of the bed. The thing was huge and reflected everything; you sat kneeling naked on your shared bed. You watched intently as Bucky stood back admiring his handy work.
“First you were eager to explore all of my…what was it? ‘Seventy years of repressed and unexplored kinks’ this I’ve been planning since you gave the green light sweetheart. Don’t back out on me now”
“Just didn’t expect you to be into mirror’s that all” you smirked at him; his equally naked form couldn’t hide his arousal from you. His dick stood to full attention it was practically waving at you, your own arousal made the skin between your thighs slick as you shifted your weight on your folded legs. You watched as Bucky crawled up the bed towards you, he captured your lips into a searing kiss. Cupping your hands to his cheeks you let Bucky push you down onto the mattress, you sighed as Bucky moved to you neck. He sucked at your sweat spot causing you to turn your head towards the mirror, you moaned at the reflection. You’re bodies were pressed together; you knee was bent up to accommodate as Bucky settled between your legs. It was erotic you couldn’t deny that.
“You know we can’t see much from this position,” Bucky murmured against your skin. Before you could respond he flipped you onto your hands and knees, you squealed in surprise as you now faced the mirror. Splaying your hands on the mattress you steady yourself as Bucky aligned your hips. Leaning over you, you watched his reflection as he kissed your shoulder his eyes never left yours in the mirror.
“I want to watch sweetheart, I want you to watch us,” you groaned closing your eyes briefly as Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around to circle your clit. Crack! A swift tap to your backside made you eyes shoot open in surprise and arousal.
“I said watch doll” you looked up to see him smirking at you as he brought his cool metal hand to massage to sting from your ass.
“Fuck Bucky” you wined wigging your hips, your core ached for any type of friction. You looked to Bucky through the mirror; he had a dark look in his eye. He was enjoying this too much, kinky bastard.
“So needy (Y/N) some thing to do with the mirror?” you shivered as Bucky ran his flesh hand up your back with a feather light touch. You sobbed dropping you head to the mattress, you could feel your body vibrating. You needed him your body needed him.
“Hold on baby” you hardly had time to brace yourself before Bucky slammed into you; you shot your head up with shock and pleasure. His fingers dug into your hips as his own snapped into you with a bruising pace. You watched your reflection in the mirror; your skin was flush with a slight sheen. Your breast swayed as your body jolted back and forth. But it was the sight of Bucky that stirred your arousal, we was glorious. His toned body towered strong above you; you watched the expression across his face. His eyes were dark as the sound of your bodies colliding filled the air; it was raw and animalistic as Bucky grinned at you.
“Enjoying the view doll?” Bucky grunted
“Yes, yes, yes” you chanted in time with Bucky’s movements. You’re body felt heavy as Bucky reached around to pull you up, pressing you up against his chest. You watched as his metal hand gently wrapped around your neck and his flesh and trained down between your legs. His fingers worked fast circles on your clit.
“Watch yourself (Y/N) you’re so beautiful” Bucky nuzzled into your neck, his blue eyes were bright as his hair fell across his forehead. Your left hand anchored its self on his flesh wrist as your right hand reach up to pull him by the hair, biting him on the bottom lip you sucked it into your mouth as Bucky picked up his speed. You cried out with each thrust feeling your orgasm looming, Bucky’s breath came out in short burst. As he dropped his hand from your throat squeezed your breast, he rolled his nipple between his fingers adding more pleasure to your body.
“Oh god Buck, I’m…I’m” you gasped as your head rolled on his shoulder, still keeping eye contact with him. He nipped at your neck smirking at you.
“I know baby… I…I’m right with you” he growled, having his verbal permission. Bucky’s lips on your neck, his predatory look boring into through the mirror and the whole image of the two of you going at it. Your orgasm hit you like never before, if it wasn’t for Bucky holding you up you would have fallen face first onto the mattress. Your thighs shook as your orgasm rippled over you as the endorphins in your body sored.
“Oh shit… fuck” the guttural cry from Bucky’s own orgasm drew your attention to his reflection in the mirror. His mouth hung open as his eyebrows pinched together as he shot his load into you, with a moan Bucky fell forwards taking you with him. Shooting your hands out you braced you both against the mattress, you laughed breathlessly about what just happened.
“The mirror stays” you gasped as Bucky’s weight shifted on your back, he kissed in between your shoulder blades softly humming in agreement.
I'm sorry if this is too much haha >_< 1,8,14,19 and 20 for yoonmin. I love your account 💕
1. How did their first time go? Their first time was really, really intimate and soft. Jimin practically pounced on Yoongi when they were alone together in the dorm. And Yoongi, not wanting to influence the younger in any way, let Jimin do whatever he wanted with him.
8. Which kinks do they share? these two love spanking… they got a thing for the booties, clearly
19. The most romantic sex they’ve had so far? After Bangtan won their first Daesang, Jimin was a heaping pile of tears and Yoongi really took care of him that night. Made the younger join him in a hot bath, full of bubbles and salts and his favorite fizzy bomb. Jimin between Yoongi’s legs, leaning his back against the older’s soft chest. and all Yoongi did was jack him off, planting wet kisses in the crease of Jimin’s neck and along his shoulder while he came in the water. But it was sensual and loving and Jimin will never forget it.
20. The roughest sex they’ve had so far? Naked, face pressed against the mirror of the dance studio, Jimin was being fucked by Yoongi from behind. It was such a turn on… being able to watch themselves in the reflection. Yoongi’s knobby fingers pressing into the meat of Jimin’s hips as he thrust into him. Jimin’s hot breath fogging up the glass as he panted with pleasure. And ultimately, watched Jimin cum all over the mirror, his cock flopping wildly while Yoongi bucked into him. Pulling out to pump himself dry all over Jimin’s sweaty ass.
For non face products i’ll keep easy to apply lipsticks and chapsticks in my purse. Something I can put on without looking in a mirror or something that’s hydrating but still looks nice on the lips. I’ll usually do the whole lip liner + lipstick thing in the morning but mid day I don’t reapply that whole lip, i’ll put on an easier lip to last the rest of the day.
Dior Addict Lip Glow, this gives your lips a doll like pink flush, doesnt really look like lipstick but hydrates + adds color. These also come in a few shades now, but I have the classic rosy pink shade.
With only a week left of his first 100 days in office – traditionally a milestone for American presidents – Donald Trump sat down with the Associated Press to reflect on his accomplishments (sic) and preemptively brag about future ones. This remarkable artefact, a transcript of which AP then released in full, captures, more than any other piece of media (except perhaps Trump’s Twitter feed), the…
(Scenario) If Eren could see his mom again for just one day, what do you think would happen?
I decided to write a small little drabble for this. I hope that’s okay with you, anon! I just wasn’t sure how to approach this as a long scenario, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! It’s angsty and kind of bittersweet, but…:P Also, there are mild spoilers for chapter 90, so you’ve been warned!
He’s standing in the flower field in Shinganshina, the gentle breeze and sound of the cicadas buzzing around reminding him that it was summer now.
It was summer?
Whipping his head around to stare at the dream-like recollection of his childhood, Eren tenses at the sound of grass crunching beneath someone’s shoes. His heart, heavy and uncertain, nearly bottoms out when a voice that he had nearly gotten the sound of calls out to him.
He turns so fast that it destroys the flowers he was standing on, but Eren doesn’t care. All he can do is stare ahead in disbelief, mouth agape and eyes as wide as the ocean itself, at the woman who stands across from him.
Her eyes, as fierce and as kind as his memory allows him to remember, soften and she reaches out her hand. “Eren?” she repeats again because it’s been six long years since she has last seen her child.
His feet move and Eren swears he has never run so quickly in all his life to reach her. With a shaking hand, he holds his mother’s out-stretched palm, tears filling and stinging his eyes as bitter resentment fills his lungs to the point where he thinks he’s drowning in it.
“I couldn’t–I couldn’t save you,” he chokes out and crumbles beneath her, his hands sliding from her own in order to clutch desperately at her apron. Eren can’t look her in the eye in fear of what might be reflecting there, so he presses his face into her leg as if he were a child, the sensation of her fingers carding easing some of the pain that had been contained inside of him for so long.
Carla sighs, allowing her son to fall apart in front of her. Her fingers skim over his ear before she lightly tugs, softly reprimanding, “Eren, I never blamed you for anything. I’m proud of you for the man that you’ve become. My time here is short, but you need to know that I am alright and that I’ll be waiting for you.”
A sharp pull on his ear snaps Eren back to reality, the fading scenery bringing him to a crashing realization that she was leaving. “But if you come anytime soon, you are going to be in so much trouble, Eren Jaeger. I love you.”
“No, mom!” he screams, the weight of her body disappearing and he finally looks up to see her smile. Just as he is about to frantically call her name again, he hears it.
Shooting up from where he was laying, Eren gazes around the room he shares with Armin and the rest of the 104th boys, his hair plastered against the back of his neck and the sides of his face.
He is seventeen now, residing in Shinganshina to help the Survey Corps restore the district so people could live there once again.
When Eren is alone, he presses his palm into his face and cries when realizing that his ear still stings from being tugged at.
“Hello again :) Can you do an imagine of like, first time talking to him over Skype because you guys are long distance and you guys met on twitter so you’ve never seen each other and just cute fluff stuff”
I loved writing this, it was such a cute request I couldn’t resist doing it right away. I hope you enjoy it!
I was in my bedroom getting ready for bed. I pull back my covers, getting a little too excited for sleep. I slip under the covers and sigh in happiness as that first second of coldness surrounds me before it slowly becomes that perfect warmth. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of cars driving along the busy street outside my apartment window. The streetlamp outside emits a glow that passes my blinds, creating a small amount of light in my room. As I’m falling into a nice, deep sleep I’m quickly taken out of it by the buzzing of my phone. I groan loudly, reaching my hand out to my bedside table I feel around for my phone. Once finding it, I grab it and pull it back towards me. I press the home button being completely blinded by the brightness of my phone screen. After my eyes adjust to the light, I smile widely when I notice it’s a message on Skype from Calvin.
Would Renperor be the type to remember a birthday or even care about one? I wonder what he'd do for Rey...
I think I’m coming down with something, but I wanna write this one before bed this is hurt/comfort, for both of them
Just like the year before, she counted the day after it passed. Older. A new number attached itself to her, a little bigger than the last. She was a young woman now, truly, but she felt no older than before. After all, she’d aged ten years in that desert.
She had been living in the palace for a little over two years and had seen birthday celebrations come and go. Her husband’s was a grand ordeal, one he detested with every scorched fiber of his being. He made appropriate faces to the holonet and then shut down, locking himself in his chambers. She had never asked, but had heard whispers that an awful event had occurred the same day years ago.
It was no surprise he never asked about hers; he wasn’t a gentle creature, his mind focused on the immediate, not the future. Kriff, she was lucky to get his bored attention for a few minutes, why would she expect anything more?
Mingyu looked at you from between your legs, his lips wrapped lightly around your clit, and pulled away with a sly grin on his face when you began bucking against his mouth. He gave your folds a long lick before standing up and moving to stand next to the bed, adoring your naked, aroused state.
“Come here, baby girl,” he said with a low voice, beckoning you with his finger, and smirked when you first propped yourself on your elbows, then got on your knees on the bed and moved to the edge, stopping in front of him. He grabbed your ass and swallowed your gasp with a deep kiss while his fingers slid between your ass cheeks, the tips only ghosting over your hole before they continued down to the backs of your thighs.
“I see you’ve got an idea,” you mumbled against his lips, playing with his hair a little. He nibbled on your lower lip and nodded, grinding his clothed hard-on against your lower stomach.
“Oh, yes I do,” he whispered, moving his hands back up to your ass while side-eyeing the large mirror on the door of your grand-sized wardrobe. “See that mirror?”
You broke the kiss and turned your head to the direction of your wardrobe, biting your lower lip at the reflection of you pressed flush against Mingyu, his upper body bare and the button of his jeans already open and waiting for you to pull them down. You turned back to him.
“You want to watch?” you asked with a small frown, unsure if you had caught his drift. He leaned down to kiss your neck sloppily.
“I want us to watch,” he whispered by your ear, sucking lightly on the skin below it while his hands kneaded your ass. “I want you to see the faces you make when you’re having it good with me deep in your ass…”
You sighed contently at the mental image and moved one of your hands from his hair to his crotch, palming him through the denim. “Well, let’s get to it, then.”
Mingyu got rid of his jeans and boxers and got the lube, asking you to get on your hands and knees. He remained standing while prepping you, stretching you open with one, two, and finally three lube-coated fingers, only adding each one when you told him to, your cheek resting against the mattress.
“I want you,” you finally said sharply, pushing yourself against Mingyu’s digits. He grinned to himself and pulled his fingers out, helping you turn around so that you were facing the mirror and got behind you on his knees. He ran his hands over your back and ass a couple of times before spreading your cheeks a little in order to apply some lube first to it and then his cock.
“You good, baby?” he asked while aligning himself with your entrance. You looked at him through the mirror in front of you, biting your lip at the sight as you nodded. Your eyes were glued on Mingyu’s face when he began pushing in, and when he shut his eyes and threw his head back with a quiet groan and his Adam’s apple bobbing a little, you couldn’t help but moan, especially when it was combined with the feeling of having him fill you up.
When he was all the way in and you were aroused to no end, Mingyu leaned down and whispered to your ear, his eyes locked with yours through the mirror as he reached or your breast, squeezing it. “Quite a sight, huh? And it’ll only get better.”
Mingyu stayed true to his words - some time later he was pounding into you desperately, his eyes switching between the mirror to see your blissful expression as you moaned, barely able to keep your own eyes open, and the way his thick length was stretching you wide. He loved seeing you that way, and only tightened his hands on your hips when he felt the familiar warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach.
“Too bad the best sight is always here,” he muttered and gave you a sharp thrust, his fingers moving to your clit as he brought you to your orgasm. You had never seen your face at that moment and had to admit that you finally understood Mingyu’s fascination with it, and even though Mingyu had seen it countless times, his eyes were immediately glued to the mirror when he felt you clenching around him and your thighs get stickier when his own hit them with every thrust.
write another jealous narry fic based on the lyrics of tusk by fleetwood mac!!! <3
2.3k, canon compliant narry
camera flash goes off while Niall’s cutting his steak into bite-sized pieces.
He likes to do the whole thing at once so that he can scoop a bit of mashed
potatoes with the bite of steak on the end of his fork, pop it in his mouth,
and then go for the green beans. The perfect mouthful. He looks up at Harry
with the most unamused face he can muster.
The fact that The Pale Emperor and it’s songs got zero Grammy nominations but No Reflection got one in 2012 is bullshit. The Pale Emperor is one of the best albums of 2015. Marilyn Manson deserves a Grammy.
CAN U WRITE WHERE REMUS FINDS SIRIUS MAKING OUT WITH A MIRROR OMG I'M LAUGHING PLZ WRITE
Remus stood in the doorway to their dormitory bathroom with his arms crossed, his nose wrinkled, and a look of incredulousness on his face. Sirius Black was currently pressing his lips against the mirror and kissing his own reflection. Remus covered his mouth to keep from laughing as he witnessed it.
Carefully, Remus cleared his throat and Sirius turned around, a blush rising to his cheeks. “How long were you standing there, Moony?”
Remus chuckled. “Long enough to see you snogging the mirror,” he responded, pushing off the doorframe and walking over. “Surely the great Sirius Black can find someone to snog him.”
Sirius huffed indignantly. “Of course I can. I just looked good today, that’s all.” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and smiled, doing a little turn that had his school robe flapping behind him. “Don’t you think, Moony?”
Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you to go fishing for compliments,” he stated, going over to the sink to clean his teeth. “What’s going on Sirius?”
Sirius slumped his shoulders and hovered around the sink. “It’s nothing.”
Remus looked at Sirius through the mirror and gave him a pointed look that made Sirius shuffle nervously. Remus went along brushing his teeth and waiting for Sirius to spill the beans.
Sirius sighed heavily. “What if I liked someone but I wasn’t sure they liked me back?”
Remus spit into the sink and thought about it for a moment. “Well, what is she like when she’s around you? Are there any signs they might be interested?”
“I think so,” Sirius said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I mean they always are looking at me.”
“That’s a good start,” Remus said, feeling a lump form in his throat. He always got a bit tetchy when someone had a crush on Sirius. He couldn’t help it, he just didn’t like it. Although he felt like he should have been used to it by now. Sometimes it felt like most of the girls at Hogwarts had a crush on Sirius at one point or another. The rest seemed to have a crush on James. But he really hated whenever Sirius developed a crush of his own. It wasn’t very often, Sirius didn’t seem to care for most of the girls at school, but sometimes one would catch his eye. “So who is it then?”
Sirius averted his gaze. “I don’t want to say,” he murmured softly. “In case nothing comes of it.”
Remus straightened up and leveled his gaze at Sirius. “Come on, just tell me.”
Sirius shook his head. “You’’ll laugh at me.”
“Why would I do that?” Remus challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. The last thing he would do if Sirius actually liked someone would be mocking him for it. Sure, they all teased James about Lily, but that was because he was a massive prat about it.
Sirius pressed his lips together in a thin line. “What if…what if it wasn’t a girl?”
“Oh,” Remus said, struck dumb for a moment as he blinked in surprise. “So you have a crush on a boy then?”
Remus felt his heart plummet into his stomach. This was too much to handle. He couldn’t function if Sirius had a crush on a boy. It would break him completely. “You know, it’s none of my business,” Remus responded quickly. “Sorry for prying.”
Remus turned on his heels and fled quickly out of the bathroom, bumping into James on the way out. “All right, Moony?” James asked, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You look a bit caught off guard.”
“A bit,” Remus agreed, relaxing into James’ comforting touch. “I was just talking with Sirius.”
“Oh,” James said, nodding in understanding. “Finally admitted his crush, has he? I told him he should tell you.”
Remus frowned. “Why should he tell me?”
James made a face just as the bathroom door opened again and Sirius stepped out looking a bit pale. “You didn’t tell him?” James asked him accusingly.
“I was going to and then he ran away!” Sirius said, letting his lower lip protrude in a pout. It was the same look that had made Christina Fellows swoon three days earlier.
“Well you probably did it wrong then,” James said, dropping his hand from Remus’ shoulder in favor of putting his hands on his hips as if about to scold Sirius. “I knew you’d cock it up!”
“I did not cock it up!” Sirius snapped defensively. “I didn’t even have an opportunity to cock it up.”
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Remus shouted, interrupting their bickering.
Peter appeared from around the corner. “What’s the hold up, gents?” he asked, sliding over to their little group by the bathroom door. “Something wrong with the toilets?”
“No, nothing is wrong with them,” James said evenly. “The same cannot be said for some people.”
“Give it a rest, Prongs,” Sirius muttered bitterly.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked, looking between his three friends.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out,” Remus answered impatiently.
“Oh, did Sirius finally tell you he has a crush on you?” Peter asked, smiling as he unknowingly let the cat out of the bag.
Three things happened simultaneously. James laughed hysterically, Sirius lunged for Peter, and Remus gasped in surprise. They all ended up on the floor in a heap, Sirius trying to hit Peter but his arm couldn’t reach with James on top of him. “Geroff me!” he growled, trying to get to Peter and strangle him.
“Sirius!” Remus said, grabbing his chin and forcing Sirius to look at him. “Is that true?”
Sirius nodded miserably. “Yeah, Moony, I’ve got a crush on you. But you weren’t supposed to find out this way.” Sirius managed to kick Peter in the shin.
The four of them managed to untangle themselves and Remus helped Sirius up. “Then why were you kissing the mirror?”
“You were what?” James asked, grinning broadly.
“Shut up, Prongs,” Sirius said, giving him a shove. “I’ve seen you snog the back of your own hand.”
“Sorry Moony, he’ll never love you as much as he loves himself,” James teased, making Peter cackle behind them.
Sirius shot them a look that said they were both dead men. They decided to make themselves scarce, slipping past them into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Remus shuffled awkwardly. “Tell me the truth, Sirius.”
Sirius groaned in displeasure. “I was practicing telling you,” he admitted solemnly. “And then I was practicing how I hoped it might go.”
Remus smiled and stepped forward into Sirius’ personal space. “So you want to kiss me, then?”
Sirius glanced up at him. “I want to do a lot more than that.”
Remus blushed bright red as he thought about it. “How about we start with a kiss?”
“Sounds like a good place to start,” Sirius responded, both of them leaning in until their lips pressed together. Remus hummed happily and tangled his fingers in Sirius’ hair. The kiss was chaste and sweet but it still made Remus tingle all the way down to his toes.
When they pulled away, they were both smiling. “Better than your own reflection?” Remus teased, pressing their foreheads together.
“Well, your lips are a lot warmer than the cold mirror,” Sirius joked back.
“Such high praise,” Remus quipped. “See if I ever kiss you again.”
Sirius whimpered. “But Moony, how can you resist?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. “I can’t even resist my own reflection!”
Remus chuckled and pulled Sirius in close. “I suppose I can’t,” he whispered, capturing Sirius’ lips again. “I’m powerless against you.”
“That’s right,” Sirius murmured against his lips. “Knew you’d give in eventually.”
“Complete and utter surrender,” Remus agreed, knowing whole-heartedly that that’s truly what it was.
Additional comments: Established relationship, Fluff and cuddles
I was hit with an intense need for cuddles at 2:30 am last night, so I wrote this really fast before I fell asleep. It’s pure fluff.
Adrien offered one last smile to the photographer as he finally escaped the building. The moment he was out of sight the happiness fell from his face and a deep exhaustion replaced it, covering his entire body like a thick curtain; his shoulder hunched slightly, his head tipped down, and his steps became slower and more lethargic. He only made the journey home by reminding himself of what awaited him. Not the expansive, shining, pristine halls of his childhood house, but the tiny, cramped, messy rooms of the apartment that he and Marinette had claimed as their own. He let out a small sigh of longing as he pictured the space. For all its quirks and difficulties, it was home. And Adrien couldn’t wait to get there.
From what you’ve said, it seems that we’ll have to learn something of what makes you tick as a man in order to understand what motivates you as an entertainer. Would it be all right with you if we attempt to do just that—by exploring a few of the fundamental beliefs which move and shape your life?
Look, pal, is this going to be an ocean cruise or a quick sail around the harbor? Like you, I think, I feel, I wonder. I know some things, I believe in a thousand things, and I’m curious about a million more. Be more specific.
All right, let’s start with the most basic question there is: Are you a religious man? Do you believe in God?
Well, that’ll do for openers. I think I can sum up my religious feelings in a couple of paragraphs. First: I believe in you and me. I’m like Albert Schweitzer and Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein in that I have a respect for life—in any form. I believe in nature, in the birds, the sea, the sky, in everything I can see or that there is real evidence for. If these things are what you mean by God, then I believe in God. But I don’t believe in a personal God to whom I look for comfort or for a natural on the next roll of the dice. I’m not unmindful of man’s seeming need for faith; I’m for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers or a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. But to me religion is a deeply personal thing in which man and God go it alone together, without the witch doctor in the middle. The witch doctor tries to convince us that we have to ask God for help, to spell out to him what we need, even to bribe him with prayer or cash on the line. Well, I believe that God knows what each of us wants and needs. It’s not necessary for us to make it to church on Sunday to reach Him. You can find Him anyplace. And if that sounds heretical, my source is pretty good: Matthew, Five to Seven, The Sermon on the Mount.
You haven’t found any answers for yourself in organized religion?
There are things about organized religion which I resent. Christ is revered as the Prince of Peace, but more blood has been shed in His name than any other figure in history. You show me one step forward in the name of religion and I’ll show you a hundred retrogressions. Remember, they were men of God who destroyed the educational treasures at Alexandria, who perpetrated the Inquisition in Spain, who burned the witches at Salem. Over 25,000 organized religions flourish on this planet, but the followers of each think all the others are miserably misguided and probably evil as well. In India they worship white cows, monkeys and a dip in the Ganges. The Moslems accept slavery and prepare for Allah, who promises wine and revirginated women. And witch doctors aren’t just in Africa. If you look in the L.A. papers of a Sunday morning, you’ll see the local variety advertising their wares like suits with two pairs of pants.
Hasn’t religious faith just as often served as a civilizing influence?
Remember that leering, cursing lynch mob in Little Rock reviling a meek, innocent little 12-year-old Negro girl as she tried to enroll in public school? Weren’t they—or most of them—devout churchgoers? I detest the two-faced who pretend liberality but are practiced bigots in their own mean little spheres. I didn’t tell my daughter whom to marry, but I’d have broken her back if she had had big eyes for a bigot. As I see it, man is a product of his conditioning, and the social forces which mold his morality and conduct—including racial prejudice—are influenced more by material things like food and economic necessities than by the fear and awe and bigotry generated by the high priests of commercialized superstition. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m for decency—period. I’m for anything and everything that bodes love and consideration for my fellow man. But when lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday—cash me out.
But aren’t such spiritual hypocrites in a minority? Aren’t most Americans fairly consistent in their conduct within the precepts of religious doctrine?
I’ve got no quarrel with men of decency at any level. But I can’t believe that decency stems only from religion. And I can’t help wondering how many public figures make avowals of religious faith to maintain an aura of respectability. Our civilization, such as it is, was shaped by religion, and the men who aspire to public office anyplace in the free world must make obeisance to God or risk immediate opprobrium. Our press accurately reflects the religious nature of our society, but you’ll notice that it also carries the articles and advertisements of astrology and hokey Elmer Gantry revivalists. We in America pride ourselves on freedom of the press, but every day I see, and so do you, this kind of dishonesty and distortion not only in this area but in reporting—about guys like me, for instance, which is of minor importance except to me; but also in reporting world news. How can a free people make decisions without facts? If the press reports world news as they report about me, we’re in trouble.
Are you saying that…
No, wait, let me finish. Have you thought of the chance I’m taking by speaking out this way? Can you imagine the deluge of crank letters, curses, threats and obscenities I’ll receive after these remarks gain general circulation? Worse, the boycott of my records, my films, maybe a picket line at my opening at the Sands. Why? Because I’ve dared to say that love and decency are not necessarily concomitants of religious fervor.
If you think you’re stepping over the line, offending your public or perhaps risking economic suicide, shall we cut this off now, erase the tape and start over along more antiseptic lines?
No, let’s let it run. I’ve thought this way for years, ached to say these things. Whom have I harmed by what I’ve said? What moral defection have I suggested? No, I don’t want to chicken out now. Come on, pal, the clock’s running.
This is my typical everyday makeup look.
#1— Bare face, wet hair.
#2— Pixi Poreless Primer all over; Make Up For Ever full cover concealer in no. 4 applied under eyes, on eyelids, sides of nose, and on blemishes; clear Vaseline on lips.
#3— MAC Pro Longwear foundation in NW20 mixed with some Rimmel Clean Finish Matte foundation in no. 440 to match my body’s tan; Skindinavia Finishing Spray spritzed all over; MAC SkinFinish Natural presses powder in Medium; bareMinerals Mineral Veil loose powder in Original; NARS Light-Reflecting Pressed Setting Powder to last all day.
#4— Cargo Bronzer in Light to contour; Milani Baked Blush in Delizioso Pink applied liberally; for eyebrows I used Stila’s eyeshadow in Sandstone mixed with Bliss.
#5— First I apply L’Oreal eyeshadow in Seashell all over lids; then Stila “In The Light” eyeshadow palette with lots of the shade Kitten in the inner corners of my eyes and lids and dark brown shades in crease; draw severe cat eyes with Maybelline Eyestudio gel liner in blackest black.
#6— Two heavy coats of L’Oreal Power Volume Black Matte Smoke mascara; for lips I used Revlon Sky Pink Matte lipstick; and by then (a little over an hour) my hair air-dries :)
The final press release for season 6 (episode 22) of The Good Wife is now out in the world. Despite the fact that the Kings have promised some sort of boffo Alicia/Kalinda scene, and despite the fact that Bishop’s lawyer Lester will spend the episode hunting Kalinda down, once again the name “Kalinda” is nowhere to be found in the episode synopsis. That’s 0 for 22–Kalinda has NEVER been mentioned in a season 6 press release. In the year she, a series regular, an Emmy winner, a breakout fan favorite, is leaving the show! Consider the endless “Farewell to Cristina” commercials building up to the departure of Sandra Oh from Grey’s Anatomy. Consider the Will-centric episodes (reflected in the official press releases) that preceded Will’s death last season. There’s something fishy going on, and it runs very deep into bowels of the show. I don’t know why CBS thinks it’s perfectly fine to treat Archie this way, but from my little fan-based perspective, it’s not fine. AT ALL!!