#wonder wheel (2017)

[sesiondemadrugada]

Wonder Wheel (Woody Allen, 2017).

#wonder wheel #wonder wheel (2017) #woody allen #vittorio storaro #juno temple #alisa lepselter #santo loquasto #miguel lópez-castillo #regina graves #suzy benzinger

[jtrocks]

#justin timberlake #movies #jpg #mine #kate winslet #wonder wheel #2017

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold. 

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket. 

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket. 

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles. 

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility. 

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response. 

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space. 

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body,  his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze. 

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air. 

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips. 

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect. 

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours. 

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave. 

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck. 

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you. 

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy. 

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge. 

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more. 

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand. 

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you. 

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment. 

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not. 

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own. 

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him. 

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps. 

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.” 

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two. 

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste. 

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips. 

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you. 

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip. 

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand. 

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence. 

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

#jimin x reader #jimin bts #park jimin #jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin x you #park jimin imagine #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin x you #bts jimin x reader #park jimin imagines #park jimin bts #bts park jimin #pjm x you #pjm smut #pjm x reader #bts pjm #pjm #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fics #jimin fluff #bts smut

[ruiniel]

Hidden

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: 🔞

Count: 1.5k

Tags & Warnings: Alucard POV, frustrated masturbation, Adrian get yourself together hon, pining, romantic angst, resolved emotional tension, finally they talk, this can only go on for so long, one chapter left

Part I - Part II - Part IV

III. Moments between

He paces up many coiled stairways, clawing carelessly at the wall with one taloned hand.

Why did you do that? You’re leaving, you sounded undecided but you will probably follow, and he’ll never see you again. He could barely keep himself from telling you all the things that sprouted like poison from his heart in those moments, but he tried, tried to be the friend you needed. 

Because he is a fool who waited for too long, and in the end, he does wish you well.

Adrian slams shut the door to his chamber, wondering how he ended up here as he gazes long at its darkness, its barrenness. With clipped movements he discards his coat and boots and slowly walks forward, dropping unceremoniously on the bed with his head in his hands. 

He's a fool, yes, and an idiot besides, because the pain of the tiding you imparted tonight is only surpassed by the sweet, hot silk of your tongue on an inch of skin. 

He rises again, walking to and fro like a trapped animal in a cage.

Why the hell did you do that? You're not the kind of person who would toy with another, and yet... he couldn’t read the look in your eyes. He sits back down, wanting to both cry and scream, not brave enough to go back there and ask you. And why, to make things worse? He's come to know you and he most certainly has come to love you in so many ways, and hell knows he respects you enough to not intervene in such an important moment of your life. 

And still, the most basic instinct curls like a cornered wolf inside him ready to pounce, shattering those honorable thoughts; the wetness of your mouth won't leave his mind.

Lying on the bed, he breathes in, breathes out, trying to shut it all from thought. He tries, but his body won’t listen. He tries, even as he slowly undoes his belts and trousers. 

He shouldn't, he has no right to use the memory of you this way.  Adrian growls low in his throat, arms falling at his sides. While he can gut night creatures with his bare hands, the guilty pleasure trickling like nectar from the warmth of your tongue makes it impossible to win here.

He'll be selfish. He'll have this, at least, for his own. He slides his trousers down his hips and takes himself in hand, and his fingers are soon sticky with his slick. He’s never been easily affected by these things, but now he's so sensitive it might consume him alive if he doesn't do something to ease the pressure and it doesn't take long, either; the thought of your closeness and the conjuring of his imagination is more than enough, and he strokes almost spitefully, until he's shivering and groaning, spilling himself over his hand. 

Panting, he stares up at the ceiling without seeing it, lying still with his trousers undone and his shirt in disarray. 

At least he can think now, but that is no improvement, apparently. His low, bitter laughter fills the silence. “Pathetic...” Adrian shakes his head, eyes closing against tears that mock.

He does his best to avoid crossing paths with you for the following days. He fills his time with every chore possible and roams the forest at night, running with the animals that see him as their own when he shape-shifts. His feelings fall in the background in that state, which provides much needed respite as the time of your departure approaches. Even though he tells himself he can't and won't be there, come the time, he's on the battlement high up, watching the cart he knows is yours depart on slow wheels.

He's not even said farewell, and you hadn't sought him out, either. It's better this way, Adrian keeps repeating, close to doubling over from the grief drowning the shores of his spirit. 

He walks away when the caravan disappears from sight, descending towards the laboratory and library on a known path strewn with many memories, berating himself for his cowardice for a while, but concluding with a sigh at the futility of it all.

“You're here.”

There is no greater absurdity than the sound of your voice. Has he gone mad? But then it’s accompanied by the sight of you, sitting at one long working table, a vial in hand and a tome in the other, looking straight at him.

Adrian goes rigid, a million conflicting thoughts pinning him to the spot. “... so are you.” He dreads asking, and he's never feared anything in his life before. “Why?”

You cast your eyes down. “I decided to stay,” you say, raising your gaze to his. “Here.”

He can't quite grasp it yet, merely waiting for you to continue.

“The gist of it is... I thought long about it: about what I want, and what I don't want. Matei and I spoke... we parted amiably enough.” You sigh, closing the tome.

If you're miserable for your choice, he's the lowest of beasts for the relief bursting through him. “You're staying.”

“I'm staying,” you repeat, not quite smiling. “And you've been avoiding me.”

Adrian takes a step further, then another. “I had to.” Damn his heart, choking on the words. “I needed to,” he admits.

“No,” you rise and near. “You don't need to explain yourself. I'm sorry for... I didn't think that night, I didn't mean to...”

Damn this. “You didn't?” He looks down on you now, taller as he is, because your face shows... vulnerability, the kind he's never, ever seen before, but now he can’t stop whatever pushes him. 

You're staring at him strangely. “Adrian I... you don't know... you don't know...” You turn away, hiding your face from him and how he wishes you wouldn't, because this feels like cleaning a festering wound: necessary.

He nears you, daring to place a hand on your shoulder. “Will you tell me, then?”

Your shoulders rise then fall. “I stayed for myself, yes. I stayed because it would be such a shame to throw away my purpose... but I also stayed to be near you. I couldn't imagine myself... so far away from...”

A pause. Elation. He feels like a jester whose cunning has been strangled out of him by a mad king. “I'm happy you stayed,” Adrian says simply. The admission hangs in the air, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm between you.

You turn your head, and in your eyes there is horror melded with surprise. Your hand goes involuntarily to your chest, and he knows what you're reaching for. “How so?”

He's dangerously close to shattering, but speaks anyway. “The night I gifted you that pendant, I wanted to ask you something, but then… well.”

You swallow a tremble to your voice when you speak. “What did you want to ask, Adrian?”

You’re standing there, closer than you've ever been. Everything is turned on its head, his sadness melted by the cinders of hope. “If you’d join me, if you'd go away with me, on a trip. Just you and I, together. I know a path, I’ve been… I’ve been going for years, at around this time. It involves a lot of trekking, but the sights are splendid, worth it.” 

“Just you and I?”

You’re tilting closer, a hand on his arm.

“Yes. It’s safe besides.”

“I'd feel safe with you anywhere,” you murmur, your lashes heavier. The speed of your heartbeat rouses his blood.  “ And I really didn’t mean to… last time, but I…” Your hand reaches for his, and he can but watch with bated breath as you hug it to your chest then kiss his palm, eyes closing. “I couldn’t help it.” And as if to prove it, you gently nip at one finger.

There are times in one's life when a single moment separates a chapter from another, but it may be so short that one breath of hesitation is enough to chase it away. No, Adrian thinks. Not this time. 

His finger glides along your lips, pausing midway. “You didn’t answer,” he follows gently, bathing in the sight, scent, and sensation of you. 

You seem trapped by the gesture, lips parted as Adrian slowly wets his thumb on the lower one. He’s beginning to see, to understand. 

“Yes,” you utter, eyes lowering just as his fingers wrap around your chin and he dips his face to yours.

You fall into him when he takes an eager taste of your mouth, and Adrian thanks his innate balance but lets himself be happily affected, an arm wrapping around you as he props himself against the nearest shelf. Your hands are on him, your body leaning into his with complete trust. And when you break apart, it’s with a clarity that overwhelms him, starved and haplessly relieved.

“Sweet, sweet girl…” Adrian soothes, running both hands up and down your back; you shudder, and the rush he feels at that is beatific. He doesn’t dare speak it aloud, not yet.

But there are steps, voices. 

You both quickly tilt towards a more secluded space, wrapped around each other, watching a study group walk into the library. 

Adrian closes his eyes, reminded of the time then looks at you, placing a short kiss on your forehead. This is far from over, you need to speak, there are so many things … you both need.  “... My chambers?” 

You nod without hesitation, coiling your arms tightly around his neck.

Part IV

#adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x you #ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania imagine #character x reader #alucard x you

[readingtheentrails]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

Tagged by @missmacfire, thank you!

Okay, let's go!

1. Larissa Weems - Wednesday (2022)

Look, I'm obviously gonna pick Larissa first because I have made some genuine friends through the Larissa/Gwendoline fandom and that means she is my #1 baby girl/Menace Principal.

2. Moiraine Damodred - The Wheel of Time (2021)

It was hard to decide between Moiraine and Siuan, honestly, but Moiraine won out just because we get so much more screen time with her. She was the reason I came back to tumblr in the first place and I have such a lovely and supportive discord community thanks to her/the show. Her dedication to the mission about all else just gets me so 🫠

3. Aloy - Horizon Zero Dawn (2017)/Horizon Forbidden West (2022)

Aloy best girl 😍😍😍 I think the Horizon series might be my favourite games of all time. They are so much fun to play, the story is so interesting and Aloy is a great protagonist. She is strong, independent and doesn't bother trying to fit in. She does her own thing and I really respect that.

4. Xena - Xena Warrior Princess (1995)

Xena was so special to me as a little baby gay. The thirst I experienced was unbelievable but because her relationship with Gabrielle was (barely) subtext, it was safe for me to watch in a conservative rural environment.

5. Utena Tenjou - Revolutionary Girl Utena (1997)

This prince saves herself! Utena is iconic and this anime is one of the first shows that ever got me thinking about gender roles and patriarchy. Utena doesn't always get it right but she does try her best to help her friends.

6. Astarion - Baldur's Gate 3 (2023)

Look, I just love him. I would let him devour me with no regrets. I'm still in Act 1 of the game and he has absolutely seduced me with his charm.

7. Nadja of Antipaxos - What We Do In The Shadows (2019)

I cannot get enough of Nadja. The perfect all-powerful absolute idiot. Her own worst enemy. My beloved girlfail queen 👑.

8. The Captain - Ghosts (2019)

I love the Captain so very much. He's from an era when he literally would have been imprisoned for being open about his sexuality so he's so repressed and uptight but we see these little glimpses that are just wonderful and he's played with such care.

9. Kassandra - Assassin's Creed Odyssey (2018)

I still can't believe there are people out there who choose to play as Alexios when Kassandra is right there! She's amazing, such a badass and I never want to play another AC game because no other protagonist will ever be as good as her (also Ubisoft is evil).

10. Tissaia de Vries - The Witcher (2019)

Look, I just obviously have a thing for teachers who are a bit mean. Sorry not sorry to be a stereotype!

No pressure tagging @dianneking @weemssapphic @h-doodles @beaujes and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

#tag game #larissa weems #moiraine damodred #aloy #xena #utena tenjou #astarion #nadja of antipaxos #the captain bbc ghosts #kassandra ac odyssey #tissaia de vries

[the-hedge-hypnotist]

A Drunk Texan Stole My Identity.

I've had this blog since 2017. In those 6 years, I have been consistently active, sometimes more than others, depending on IRL factors, but in December I lost my Dad. To say that this was devastating would be an understatement. I made posts on my social media channels that I would not be active for awhile, because there was no way I could juggle things in my online life with the needs of my offline life.

The majority of people in the hypnokink community have been wonderful during this time. I received a handful of kind messages that really meant a lot. I would be remiss if I didn’t also highlight the kindness of a lot of the fetish models, I’ve worked with who reached out. They got hired for a job and could have left it at that, but many of them took time out of their busy lives to reach out. They’re great people.

And that brings me to the drunk Texan who I’ll just refer to as “James”. Although part of me wants to blast his full name all over the internet, I’m not. James decided to use my bereavement leave as an opportunity to impersonate me on Tumblr. He used the “Hedge Hypnotist” name, posted my content and claimed it was his own, and messaged people pretending to be me in attempts to hypnotize them. James has also stolen content from @qu1etdroprop (who is awesome and makes fantastic content). I’ve also been contacted by another producer who informed me that James has been pirating their content, which is not only illegal but a deplorable thing to do considering the amount of effort goes into making Hypnokink content, especially at a time when Hypnokink content is under attack.

James is a moron. While you might be thinking that he just does not know any better, let me tell you that James is in his 30s and has a kid. James knows better than to do this. His smug smile during his over a decades worth of mugshots and excuses when confronted about all of this (as seen below) lead me to think that he’s a narcissist who uses mental gymnastics to relieve himself from any shame or accountability for his actions.

Originally, I confronted James and was just going to leave it at that. There is a steep learning curve when entering the online hypnosis community and no definitive structures to educate or prepare people. Almost everyone makes mistakes in this community and, in most cases, I think they should be used as lessons to move forward in the future. This is not one of those cases. Identity theft is far outside from the typical learning curves within the Hypnosis Community and, as I’ve heard from more and more people about the interactions with James while he has been pretending to be me, letting him off with a warning is beneath the threshold of what his actions warrant.

If you interacted with James while he was pretending to be me, please let me know. The more I hear the more I’m considering legal action (something I’m becoming more and more well versed in due to insane people on the internet). If you've been wronged by him and want more information, I will be happy to give you more information.

I would advise against interacting with him. There is something wrong with him. He does not have any concept of how to operate on the internet, let alone within the hypnokink community, or even behind the wheel of a car for that matter. If his conduct online and his decade worth of mugshots are any indication, I feel incredibly bad for (as he referred to her) his “crazy latina ex”.

Here are some of his current accounts. I have no doubt that there are more and that he’ll change screen names in the near future. Please keep an eye open.

Usernames: DreamyDominant91#7395 SleepDoctor91 MasterKaa91 James Kay (Not his real last name) [email protected] Hypno Dream Master hypno-dreammaster

Also a huge THANK YOU to @pruning-the-minds-garden for helping to get the word out about this.

Apologies to all the awesome Texans in the world. Sorry you share a geographic region with this guy.

#Hypnosis community #Hypnokink #identity theft #James Kay #Texas #fuck around and find out #Drunk driver #Domestic abuser

[cinemistery]

Mickey Rubin | Wonder Wheel (2017)

#justin timberlake #wonder wheel #movies #cinema #film #indie film #movieedit #cinematography #tv series #series #movie scenes

[totowlff]

chapter thirty-three — take my breath

➝ is there a better birthday present than love?

➝ word count: 5,6k

➝ warnings: smut

➝ author’s notes: it took longer than it should have, but i think there's nothing more appropriate than posting the chapter about liesl's birthday on her birthday. enjoy!

FEBRUARY, 2017

Sitting in the Mercedes C-Class parked in the driveway, Elisabeth was silent, her head resting on the steering wheel. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and did her best to hold back the tears that felt inevitable. 

That day had been shit.

Pre-season had been a real headache. Preparations for the launch of the W08, the car of that season, were in full swing, she hadn't had a day off. To top it all off, the hasty negotiations with Valtteri to take over for Nico, who had decided to retire suddenly, without even letting Toto or Niki know, had taken up her limited time and patience, as Williams were not feeling overly charitable with Mercedes trying to recruit one of their contracted drivers.

They only managed to confirm the Finn just over a month before pre-season testing began. It took a few hours of talking with Sir Frank Williams and his daughter, Claire, for the team to release Valtteri. Elisabeth was sure that the affection they had for Toto, from when he was still an investor in the team, played a big role in the success of the negotiation.

However, solving that problem only brought on more. With a new set of regulations or that year, less than a fifth of the car was the same as the previous year. This meant hours of reviewing accounting, vendor budgets, employee rosters, and wind tunnel hours. By the end of each day, Elisabeth felt completely drained, with only enough strength to crawl into bed and sleep.

That Saturday was no different.

Elisabeth had woken up early, gotten ready, had a cup of espresso, and gone to the factory. As much as she wanted Toto's company, she didn't want to wake him. He was working just as much as she was — probably more. Rare were the nights when he didn't spend a few more hours at his home office, or even at the factory, holding meetings with sponsors. That had been the case from the night before. He’d been up late, talking with Petronas' Malaysia-based technical directors about the new fluids being developed for that year.

She had a busy morning, occupied almost entirely with a meeting to present the logistical plan designed for the season. During the afternoon, Elisabeth spoke with the marketing team about the strategies for the W08 launch. She’d also given a factory tour to Mark McLaughlin, one of Qualcomm's directors. After saying goodbye to the American and returning to her office, Elisabeth found a plate with a small chocolate cupcake, as well as a card that read “Happy Birthday, Elisabeth”, along with a picture of her holding one of the giant silver stars that the team used in celebrations.

It was her birthday.

She’d forgotten her own birthday.

— Fuck — she muttered, lifting her head from the steering wheel. Thinking about the messages she’d gotten earlier and ignored - from her parents, Lukas, and Claire, Elisabeth felt her heart tighten inside her chest. She always spent her birthday with her family in Vienna, having dinner at an Italian restaurant, reminiscing about their time in Modena. But that year, she had been too busy to even think about celebrating one more trip around the sun.

She picked up her cell phone that was lying on top of the passenger seat next to her purse, she stared at the lock screen. It was a picture of Toto, Ben, and Rosi, smiling for the camera as they posed in front of Ben’s birthday cake. Staring into Toto’s face, Elisabeth couldn't help but feel a twinge in her chest. Despite numerous congratulatory messages, there was nothing from him. The only time they had spoken that day, on the phone, was during lunch, when he told her that he would not be going to the factory in the afternoon.

“Did he forget it too?”, she wondered, uncertain. Of all of Toto’s strengths, memory was not one of them, after all. He tended to forget simple things, like dinners and meetings. She was always the one to remind him of those things. Him forgetting her birthday would not be out of the norm, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

In fact, knowing that her birthday was just another day on Toto's calendar made her heart ache even more.

Resigned, Elisabeth took the bag that was on the seat next to her and got out of the car, walking slowly towards the entrance hall, distracted by the notification that had just arrived on her phone. Typing a quick response to a question from Alison, from the Human Resources team, she walked into the living room, pausing to download an attachment from the message.

Until she heard someone clear their throat.

Lifting her head, Elisabeth found Toto standing there, holding a bouquet of lilies and white roses, an anxious smile on her lips. Her eyes flickering between the flowers and his face, she was visibly confused.

— What is this?

He looked at the bouquet, then at her.

— They're flowers, Liesl.

— Why?

Toto blinked.

— Today is your birthday. Or… did I get the date wrong?

Elisabeth gave a shy little smile.

— No, it's today.

— Oh, good — he smiled, approaching her — So, today is your birthday. And a special day like this deserves celebration.

Toto handed the flowers to her, and she felt her eyes fill with tears as she looked at them, noticing that there was a card placed between the roses and the lilies.

— Do you want to see the card? 

— Yes — she whispered.

Removing the envelope nestled in the middle of the bouquet, Toto opened it and withdrew a small note, written in his elegant handwriting.

— Read it to me — he asked.

Elisabeth cleared her throat to read. 

— “You know I don't like birthdays. I believe you deserve to be celebrated everyday. But if there's ever an ideal time to show you how much I appreciate you, it's today. Happy birthday, Liesl. I love you. From... your Toto”.

His name came out as a whisper from her lips, which were trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. Elisabeth often felt unworthy of Toto's love. She saw herself as a difficult person with a lot of complexities. Sometimes, she even felt like she was broken in some way. However, that side of her had never scared him. After all, as Toto himself said, he was also broken, in a way. Even with that negative assessment, Elisabeth had been the one to fix him. He was determined to be the one to fix her, too.

Kissing her forehead, Toto smiled.

— You like it?

— I love it, honey — she replied, wrapping her free arm in a tight hug, her face buried in his chest. Inhaling his scent, Elisabeth felt her body relax. She was home.

A few seconds later, Toto lightly squeezed her waist, as a signal for her to lift her head.

— It's not just that, Liesl.

— What do you mean?

— I prepared the bathtub for you to take a relaxing bath. I put those bath salts you like in the water, the lemongrass-scented ones. Well, that's what I think you like, since every time I get in the tub with you, your skin smells like lemongrass.

Elisabeth smiled.

— Yes, it's lemongrass. But, you know you didn't have to do all of this, right?

— I didn't have to, but I wanted to. Especially after a busy day like today. As soon as you’re done with your bath, we're going to eat the pizzas I ordered from Gino's.

Her eyes sparkled. She loved the pizza from Gino's, a small restaurant in the center of Oxford. They were the closest thing to what she ate as a kid in Modena.

— Americana and Margherita? — Elisabeth asked, feeling her stomach rumble just thinking about the slices full of cheese and spicy salami.

— Of course, as usual. Now go upstairs and relax. I'll call you when they arrive, okay?

She nodded, before receiving a peck and having the flowers removed from her hands., Elisabeth went upstairs to the second floor, going quietly to their room. As she entered the bathroom, she smelled a distinct scent of vanilla in the air. It was soft and sweet, almost cozy. When she got to the bathroom, she discovered the source of the smell — a scented candle that was lit on top of the counter. Staring at the flame for a few seconds, Elisabeth smiled.

“He thought of everything”, she thought, as she undressed and tied up her hair so it wouldn't get wet.

As soon as she sat in the bathtub, with its warm, lemongrass-scented water, Elisabeth felt her body relax. The bathroom was silent, almost as if it were enveloped in a bubble of serenity and peace. It had been a long time since the last time she had felt like this.

Elisabeth's life after joining the Mercedes operation had become complete chaos. Her time was filled with trips, races and engagements. It was a hard, inconsistent and particularly tiring routine, which not only affected her, but also her relationships with friends and family.

But it was during moments like this that she was grateful to have Toto to share the madness with. He was more than just a boyfriend or sexual partner, he was her best friend. The two of them understood, supported, and cared for each other. Each was the other's home, as Toto liked to say. She was sure of it every time she laid down in bed with him, snuggled in his arms, sleeping to the quiet beat of his heart.

With her eyes still closed, Elisabeth heard footsteps coming from the bedroom to the bathroom. She had no idea how long she had been there, but she could stay there for the rest of her life, that bathtub was so good.

— Liesl?

She opened her eyes and looked to the side to find Toto standing beside her, a smile on his lips.

— Yes?

— Is everything okay?

— Yeah, everything is great.

He crouched down beside her, leaning on the edge of the tub.

— Is your bath okay? Would you like anything? 

— I'd love for you to come in with me — she whispered, a small smile on her face. Toto returned the smile, bringing a hand to her cheek and stroking the damp skin.

— I'd like that too, baby, but that would mean letting the pizza get cold downstairs, and if I know you, you wouldn't eat it cold.

— Oh, is dinner here?

— Yes, it’s downstairs, waiting for us. Are you coming?

— Of course — she replied, leaning on the edge of the tub to lift herself out of the water. As soon as Elisabeth stepped onto the rug, Toto handed her a towel to dry off, before leaving the bathroom and asking her what she wanted to wear. A few minutes later, the two of them went downstairs together, hand in hand, with her wearing one of his old T-shirts and baggy pajama pants, towards the kitchen, where the table was meticulously prepared, with the flowers Toto had given her decorating the environment.

Between laughs, sips of wine and stories of other disastrous birthday parties, the two ate a few slices of pizza apiece. However, Elisabeth couldn't help noticing that Toto looked a little uneasy, especially when the two of them were silent. “He's hiding something”, she thought, as he got up to take the dishes to the sink.

With everything organized and the two of them in the living room drinking what was left of the wine in the bottle, she stared at Toto for a few seconds.

— Are you okay, my love?

— Yes, I’m perfect. Why the question?

— You seem… Uneasy. Like you’re anxious.

He looked at her for a few seconds before smiling.

— I'm thinking about your present.

Elisabeth pressed her lips together, serious.

— My present? Toto, you know that…

— I don't need to give you anything, I know — he cut her off — But I want to, Liesl.

— Torger — she muttered seriously.

— Come with me, baby — Toto whispered, getting up from the sofa and placing his glass of wine on the coffee table. Placing her own glass next to his, Elisabeth felt his hand wrap around hers, leading her through the house.

  She just didn't know what to expect from Toto, especially on an occasion when she knew it was no use telling him he didn't need to give her a gift. The team principal always made a point of spoiling her with something of exorbitant value, but that would barely tickle his bank account.

“You deserve the whole world, Liesl”, he always told her, as soon as she asserted that she didn't deserve to be spoiled like that. And Elisabeth knew that Toto would be able to deliver it into her hand if she wanted to. All she had to do was ask.

He led her up the stairs to their bedroom, holding her fingers gently. With her heart racing, she felt the anxiety rising within her. The two entered the suite in silence, hand in hand. Leading her towards the bed, he looked down at her with a smirk.

— Baby, can you sit on the bed for me?

She let go of Toto's hand and walked over to the mattress, settling down on it. However, instead of approaching her, he went to the mirrored closet doors and slid them open, entering the cubicle. In the silence of the room, Elisabeth felt her pulse roaring louder and louder in her ears, tension building in her muscles.

“What the hell is he up to?”, she wondered.

A few moments later, he emerged again with a small white bag in his hand. Slowly approaching her, Toto reached out, handing the package to her. As she looked at it more closely, she noticed that there was a letter ‘F’ printed on the surface, as well as the words ‘Fleur du Mal’. “What kind of store is that?”, Elisabeth wondered, staring at the bag in silence.

— What is it? — she asked, looking up at him.

— Open it — Toto just said.

Tearing off the seal, Elisabeth opened the bag and reached inside, pulling out a long piece of black satin, with something embroidered on it. Running her thumb over the fabric, she looked up.

— A piece of cloth?

Toto smiled.

— Not just any piece of cloth.

— No?

— It's a blindfold.

Elisabeth felt a lurch in her stomach.

— When I was looking for your gift, I happened to come across an article that I thought was interesting…

— An article?

— Yeah. About female pleasure.

She raised an eyebrow, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest.

— Female pleasure — Elisabeth repeated.

— Yes — he continued, taking the blindfold from her hands — I've read that many men don't know when a woman has an orgasm. That they don't know exactly what their partners like in bed. In general, there’s a… gap.

— But you’ve made me come before… so many times  — she replied softly, trying not to blush. 

A smug smile appeared on his face.

— Yes. And I know exactly when you're having an orgasm, so I don't think I'm part of that statistic. But, reading that article, I felt like… I could learn more.

She blinked.

— So I started researching more about how to improve, how to make our intimacy even more — he paused, winding the silken sash around his hand — pleasurable.

— Why? — Elisabeth asked quietly.

He smiled.

— Because your pleasure gives me pleasure, Liesl. In fact, making you come is more pleasurable to me than anything else. Watching you orgasm and knowing I'm the one who made you feel that way is… Wonderful. Hearing the sounds you make, feeling your muscles tense under my hands, the taste of your come… That turns me on more than anything. And I wanted to make it even better for you. And I found that one way to do that is by using… different things.

— You mean… toys? — she asked directly.

— Not necessarily — Toto replied, removing the cloth that had wrapped around his hand — There are many possibilities we can explore aside from that. Although, the idea of watching you squirm in pleasure while I use one on you seems tempting.

Heat rose in Elisabeth's cheeks.

— The point is, your birthday present isn't a thing, or an object. It's an experience. Something good, relaxing — he approached, bringing one of his hands to her cheek — In fact, you're already living that experience. I prepared the environment, bought the flowers, organized dinner and the bath, everything for you to feel like you deserve.

— Like I deserve...

— Good. Relaxed. Happy — he replied in a low voice, his thumb brushing her skin, his eyes locked with hers. She felt like she was being hypnotized — Now I want to make you feel even better. But, I need you to want it.

— Want…

— Do you want it, Elisabeth?

— Want what? — she asked, as if she had just woken up from a trance. Toto leaned in front of her, resting his hands on the mattress beside her thighs. He wasn't even touching her, but it felt like his fingers were burning her skin, the tingling in her belly almost unbearable.

— Do you want your gift?

— My gift?

— Do you want to have the most pleasurable night of your life, Elisabeth?

She swallowed hard.

The offer was tempting.

With the words stuck in her throat, Elisabeth just nodded her head. A shadow of a smile appeared on Toto's face.

— Words, baby. I want to hear from you.

— Yes — she whispered — I do.

A smile crept onto his face as his brown eyes seemed to darken further. Taking one of her hands, Toto lifted his torso and, pulling gently, he got Elisabeth back to her feet, not without difficulty, as her legs felt like they were made of jelly. When she managed to regain her balance, she looked at him, who was watching her curiously.

— For starters, I need you to take off your clothes.

Automatically, she brought her hands up to the shirt she was wearing, pulling it over her head carelessly. Then, she slid her pajama bottoms down her legs. With her clothes  thrown into a corner, Elisabeth put her arms at her sides, the cold air making her skin prickle. Then, she looked up at Toto, who was staring at her with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

— I meant.. all of your clothes, Liesl — he said, his voice low.

Glancing down, she found his finger gliding gently across the elastic of the panties she was wearing. They were just basic white panties, far from the sexiest pair she owned. But Toto didn't care. He had never cared about what she was wearing when they were going to have sex, whether or not she was wearing luxurious lingerie or comfortable cotton panties, as long as when she took them off, her pussy was there, wet and ready for him to do whatever he desired. 

— Take it off for me — Elisabeth whispered.

Toto tilted his head, looking at her.

— I'd love to, Liesl, but tonight I'm in control — he said, in a serious tone — And you are the one taking your panties off.

She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the heat coursing through her skin.

— As you wish, Mr. Wolff.

Sliding the panties down her legs, Elisabeth stifled a gasp as cool air made contact with the wetness between her thighs. After kicking the garment to the corner along with the T-shirt and pants, she found herself naked in front of Toto. His eyes roamed over her skin with curiosity, which made her desire grow.

However, that wasn’t the only thing exciting her. The stark contrast between the two of them made Elisabeth's anticipation ever more present. He was still fully dressed while she was completely naked. It was a clear game of power and control, and it was all new to her. After all, Toto had never been the dominating type, and she wasn’t very good at being submissive — she just didn’t have the personality for it.

At that moment, naked and at Toto’s disposal to do whatever he wanted with her body, she didn't feel vulnerable or fragile, as Elisabeth thought she would if she was ever in this situation. To her surprise, she felt confident. Powerful. Beautiful.

— Lie on your back for me — Toto finally said, after a few seconds of silence. She obeyed almost immediately, facing the bed. Then Elisabeth felt him approach — Close your eyes, Liesl.

Again she obeyed, feeling the silk of the black cloth he held in his hand slide across her face, stopping right in front of her eyelids, completely obscuring her vision.

— Are you comfortable, Liesl?

— Yes — she replied in a low voice. After answering, she felt Toto's hands land on her waist, their heat causing a wave of excitement to run over Elisabeth's skin. He gently rotated her back to her starting position.

— See anything, baby? — she heard Toto ask from somewhere in front of her.

— No.

— Are you sure?

— Absolutely, Toto.

— Good — he said. She could practically hear his smile in his voice — Now, I'm going to help you to bed, okay?

Elisabeth nodded and felt Toto take her hands and gently push her back, making her take a step, then another, until she was resting the backs of her thighs against the mattress. Elisabeth first sat on the bed, feeling the fabric of the comforter that covered the bed against her skin, the softness of it taking her by surprise. She had never realized how soft the texture was.

After hearing Toto direct her to move further back so that she would be in the middle of the bed, she laid down on the mattress with a sigh, her heart pounding in her chest. Without being able to see anything, every other one of her senses were in overdrive to compensate. Elisabeth could smell the aroma of the vanilla scented candle that had escaped from the bathroom present in the air, and she could hear the sound of Toto's footsteps as he walked around the bed. Imagining him pacing back and forth, scrutinizing her like a feast served just for him made her squeeze her tights together.

— Is there a problem, Elisabeth? — he asked somewhere at her feet, in a serious tone.

— No — she replied.

One of his hands landed on her ankle, fingers gliding lightly over her skin. Elisabeth swallowed hard, her lips pursed and heat coursing through her body in waves. She just couldn't understand how that simple touch had so much power over her.

— None at all?

— No, none.

— You're wondering what I'm doing, aren't you? — he murmured, pulling his fingers away — Imagining what I'm planning to do with you tonight.

Elisabeth didn't answer, too focused on the tingling growing between her legs. Until she felt the bed sink in on her right side, as if he were settling down with her on the mattress, one of his hands resting on her belly, just above her navel.

— Tell me what you're imagining, Liesl — Toto whispered, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin — I want to hear what you're thinking.

— I'm not… thinking about…

— You are, I can tell by the way your cheeks are red. Come on, tell me. Or I'm going to have to leave you like this for the rest of the night.

— You wouldn't do that — Elisabeth said. She couldn’t help but sound a little indignant.

— Don't doubt me, Miss Lauda — he murmured — I'm capable of a lot, especially when it comes to you.

— Oh, yes? What exactly are you capable of?

Toto laughed, pulling his hand away from her body.

— My love, I'm the one asking the questions here. And, you didn't answer the question I asked earlier.

She pressed her lips together, a little annoyed.

— I was thinking about you walking around the bed, looking at me like a feast.

— So you see yourself as a feast, Elisabeth?

— You see me as a feast, Torger — she shot back, making him laugh again.

— Is this your way of telling me to eat you?

Elisabeth didn't answer, too distracted by the image of his face between her legs causing a new wave of heat to run through her skin. And she was sure her own body had betrayed her when she felt a warm breath against her ear.

— Tell me what you want me to do, baby — Toto whispered, his hand caressing her belly again — Tell me what's on your mind.

— I'm thinking about the first time we had sex, in Sochi — Elisabeth said softly — I'm thinking about the way you touched me, asking what I liked. I'm thinking about how you slid your lips down my body, kissing my skin, until you reached my…

In the middle of her explanation, a groan escaped her lips. The hand that was on her stomach slid down as she spoke, his middle finger finding her clit and drawing small circles, slowly. If that was already pleasurable under normal circumstances, now, deprived of her sight, it was much better. 

— You can go on, I'm listening.

— I…I can't — she stammered lightly before letting out a high, high-pitched moan.

— Care for me to stop so you can talk? — Toto asked, his finger stopping to move between her legs.

— No, no, please continue — Elisabeth whimpered, her hips moving in search of more friction. However, he did exactly the opposite of what she had asked.

— I want to hear from you. Finish your thought first, then I'll continue.

Elisabeth let out a frustrated grunt, one hand groping blindly down his arm, trying to get him to move, to no avail.

— Toto...

— Tell me what you were thinking — he said, his tone more like an order than a request. Completely vulnerable in that bed, Elisabeth didn't dare disobey him.

— I was thinking about your mouth on my pussy, sucking and licking me with such passion I felt like I'd just died and gone to heaven. No man had ever fucked me the way you fucked me that night and every other night since. I love your mouth, your tongue and the way you combine every element. 

— Do you want me to use my mouth, then?

Elisabeth just nodded, a whimpering sound escaping her lips. Removing his hand from her pussy, Toto got up from the bed without saying a word. 

— Toto? Are you there?!

Silence. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the adrenaline of pleasure and the anxiety of being possibly alone and completely vulnerable had her reaching for her satin blindfold.

— Don't even think about taking your blindfold off, Elisabeth — Toto said from somewhere at the foot of the bed.

— But…

— I'm here — he said, resting his hands on her ankles, slowly pulling them apart — And I'm not going anywhere.

She felt the mattress sink between her legs, as if Toto was settling into that space. His hands repositioned her feet so they were planted on the bed and her knees bent. Elisabeth was completely exposed to him, anticipation making something in her belly tingle.

— You know, Liesl — he began, a finger idly running down her thigh — I've imagined that night in Sochi many times. I always thought about what it would be like when I finally had you all to myself. I imagined thousands of scenarios. I imagined from the most romantic scenes to the dirtiest. I imagined everything from a simple goodnight kiss after dinner to pulling you into the tire room at the Nurburgring and letting you angry-fuck me for taking you on that lap. In the end, you chose the exact scenario that I had never thought of.

— In a hotel? — she whispered.

— No. With you taking the initiative — Toto replied, planting a kiss on the side of her knee. “He's between my legs”, Elisabeth thought — You always seemed so shy, so delicate. I thought it was going to be up to me to take the first step. And then you showed up in my room, you took off your dress, and I knew you were mine. Finally mine.

His lips slowly slid over her skin, placing kisses along the way to the spot between her legs. When he was getting to where she most wanted him to touch her, Toto stopped and walked back the same way. He was teasing her.

— I didn't even know where to start when I put you in my bed. I wanted to do it all at once. I wanted to feel your taste, your heat, your touch, but I knew that, more important than me at that moment, it was you — he murmured, giving attention to the other leg — So, I decided to start by touching you, getting to know you, finding out what turned you on. Seeing you come for the first time is my favorite memory.

Hearing him say those things while touching her gently made her feel like she was melting under his fingers. 

— Please — she whimpered softly.

— What do you want?

— Please, I need you.

— What do you want me to do for you?

— Anything, just make me come, please.

Elisabeth heard a low, almost devilish giggle.

— As you wish, baby — he replied, taking one long lick to spread her wetness across her pussy, a loud moan escaping her lips as her hands gripped the bed’s comforter. His ministrations were slow and patient, as if he wanted to understand what each movement, each rhythm, each direction provoked in her body and face. It was the kind of delicious torture only he knew how to do, the way it left her legs shaking and her heart racing.

Alternating between soft touches with her tongue and vigorous sucks, Elisabeth began to feel a familiar sensation in her belly, as if it were a balloon being inflated little by little. And she knew that the moment it popped, it would be something breathtaking.

— Toto — she whimpered as she felt him descend, his tongue playing at her entrance, teasing her.

— Want my fingers to help you, baby? — he murmured against her body, the vibration of his voice making her gasp.

— Yes — Elisabeth choked out.

She was so wet that Toto’s fingers slipped inside of her easily, bending to find the right spot inside her. The spot he knew would make her back arch and the dirtiest words leave her lips.

— Fuck — she moaned, bringing a hand to his head, fingers clenching in his hair — This, yes!

The balloon continued to inflate in her abdomen, her hips moving erratically against Toto's face, trying to seek out more friction. Combined with his fingers and tongue, Elisabeth felt every second closer to orgasm.

— Yes, yes, yes, this, yes — she murmured, her breathing labored and the muscles in her body completely tense. She was almost there — Don't stop, please, please, please...

Then, the balloon popped.

Elisabeth let out a moan so loud the neighbors would probably have heard it, her body shaking with the waves of pleasure that ran through her skin. Orgasms in general were great, but Toto's were completely different. There was an extra ingredient in the mix that made them more ravishing.

It was his sweetness, his affection, his dedication to her that made her believe that, contrary to what she thought, she did deserve to be loved the way he loved her. And feeling that love in the small gestures, in the way Toto took care of her and made a point of making her feel good, made her feel filled with something she had never felt before meeting him.

Happiness.

She was still recovering when she felt Toto's lips move up her body, placing kisses on her sensitive skin, until they reached her mouth. Savoring her own pleasure on his tongue, Elisabeth brought her hands to the back of his neck, caressing it. Then he pulled away and, with one hand, removed the blindfold that covered her eyes.

After a few seconds of trying to get used to the brightness of the room, Elisabeth found Toto staring at her with a look of concern.

— Are you okay?

— I'm fine — she replied, her fingers stroking the back of his head — Why?

— You're crying.

Elisabeth blinked, feeling her eyes wet. She hadn't felt the tears run down her skin, perhaps because of the blindfold. But, now that he had spoken, she realized that, in fact, she was crying. But inside her, there was no hint of sadness or anguish.

— I'm fine — Elisabeth repeated, more to herself than Toto.

— Did I hurt you? — he asked softly, almost as if he was feeling guilty for making her orgasm.

— No, no, you didn't hurt me — she said, watching his expression. At that moment, looking at his face brought a new wave of emotion, her eyes filling with more tears. Elisabeth only felt love. Pure, raw and simple.

— Then why are you crying?

— Because I love you — she whispered.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

— You’re crying because you love me?

— I'm crying because you showed me what happiness is. You showed me what it's like to be truly happy. You made me blossom when I thought I was just a barren stump, Torger. And I love you for it.

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.

— I love you too, Elisabeth. More than I can put on words.

After a few seconds of silence, Elisabeth brought her hand to his face.

— Can you lay down with me? — she whispered — I wanna feel you close to me.

— Of course, baby — Toto answered, settling down next to her on the bed, placing a kiss on her forehead. Wrapped in her embrace, Toto’s arms resting on her waist, Elisabeth felt completely safe.

She was at home.

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x oc #wlffog #natsversion #scwlff

[theyraylovehate]

Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

-Dustin Henderson (No smut)

-Lucas Sinclair (No smut)

-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

•Marvel

-Iron Man/Tony Stark

-Captian America/Steve Rogers

-Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

-Hawkeye/Clint Barton

-Hulk/Bruce Banner

-Thor

-Loki

-Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

-Black Panther/T'challa

-Doctor Strange/Steven Strange

-Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

-Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

-Starlord/Peter Quill

-Gamora

-Spiderman/Peter Parker

-Falcon/Sam Wilson

-War Machine/James Rhodes

-Valkyrie (Fem/NB only)

•X-Men

-Professor X/Charles Xavier

-Magneto/Erik Lensherr

-Wolverine/James Howlett

-Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

-Rogue

-Jean Grey

-Storm/Ororo Munroe

-Cyclops/Scott Summers

-Mystique/Raven

-Beast/Henry "Hank" McCoy

-Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

-Havok/Alexander Summers

•DC/Young Justice

-Batman/Bruce Wayne

-Superman/Clark Kent

-The Flash/Barry Allen

-Aquaman/Authur Curry

-Cyborg/Victor Stone

-Joker/Jack Oswald White

-Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel

-Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

-DeadShot/Floyd Lawton

-Kid Flash/Wally West

-Nightwing (Robin #1)/ Dick Grayson

-Red Hood (Robin #2)/ Jason Todd

-Robin (#3)/ Tim Drake

-Beast Boy/Garfield Logan

-Superboy/Johnathan "Jon" Kent

-Artemis/Artemis Crock

-Red Arrow/Roy Harper

-Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

-Black Canary/Dinah Lance

-Miss Martian/Megan Morse

-Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm

•Umbrella Academy

-Luther Hargreeves (#1)

-Diego Hargreeves (#2)

-Allison Hargreeves (#3)

-Klaus Hargreeves (#4)

-Five Hargreeves (#5)

-Ben Hargreeves (#6)

-Viktor Hargreeves (#7)

-Marcus Hargreeves (#1)

-Fei Hargreeves (#3)

-Alphonso Hargreeves (#4)

-Sloan Hargreeves (#5)

-Jayme Hargreeves (#6)

-Lila Aryu

-The Handler

•Harry Potter

-Harry Potter

-Ron Weasley

-Hermione Granger

-Fred Weasley

-George Weasley

-Ginny Weasley

-Draco Malfoy

-Sirius Black (Older)

-Cedric Diggory

-Oliver Wood

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

-Remus Lupin (Older)

-Nymphadora Tonks

-Lucious Malfoy (Older)

-Narcissa Malfoy (Older)

-Severus Snape (Older)

-Bill Weasley

-Charlie Weasley

•Marauders

-James Potter

Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

-Lily Evans

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Severus Snape

-Regulus Black

-Lusious Malfoy

-Narcissa Black

-Peter Pettigrew

•Greek Mythology

-Zeus

-Hades

-Posideon

-Apollo

-Hera

-Persephone

-Ares

-Athena

-Demeter

-Aphrodite

-Artemis

-Dionysus

-Hermes

•Divergent

-Beatrice "Tris" Prior

-Caleb Prior

-Eric

-Peter

-Christina

-Will

-Tobias "Four"

-Zeke

Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

-Uriah

•Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

-Luke Skywalker

-Leia Organa

-Han Solo

-Obi-Wan Kenobi

-Kylo Ren

•Supernatural

-Dean Winchester

-Sam Winchester

-Castiel

-Crowley

-Lucifer

-Rowena MacLeod

-Gabriel

-Charlie Bradbury (Fem/NB only)

-Chuck Shurley

-Jody Mills

-Ellen Harvelle

-Kevin Tran

•The Walking Dead

-Rick Grimes

-Daryl Dixon

-Glenn Rhee

-Carl Grimes

-Maggie Greene

-Negan

-Michonne

-Shane Walsh

-Rosita Espinosa

-Carol Peletier

-Paul "Jesus" Monroe

-Abraham Ford

‐Tara Chambler (Fem/NB only)

-Enid

-Ezekiel

-Aaron (Masc/NB only)

•The Walking Dead Game

-Clementine

-Lee

-Kenny

-Luke

-Javier

-Gabriel

-Kate

-Louis

-Omar

-Ruby

-Mitch

-Marlon

-Violet (Fem/NB only)

IT (2017)

-Richie Tozier

-Beverly Marsh

-Eddie Kaspbrak

-Bill Denbrough

-Stanley Uris

-Ben Hanscom

-Henry Bowers

-Mike Hanlon

-Patrick Hockstetter

-Victor Criss

-Belch Huggins

•Desendants

-Mal

-Evie

-Ben

-Jay

-Jane

-Chad

-Doug

-Lonnie

-Carlos

-Uma

-Harry Hook

-Gil

•Maze Runner

-Newt

-Minho

-Gally

-Teresa

-Alby

-Chuck

-Brenda

-Aris

-Thomas

-Frypan

-Jorge

[foxes-that-run]

End game

Like all Ed features, End Game is Haylor. (Ed, the O.G. Haylor MVP) it was written a few weeks after HS1 was released. Unlike other Rep songs that were revisited and have Joe references, even when they started before they met. In fact the film clip is overtly Haylor. (below) in the BTS (at 1:55) Taylor’s gets text with a scrabble move, she considers, says it is a 'tight game' and decides to leave the other player suspended. Ed blushes.

When OOTW was released Harry’s IG went B&W for 2 years until he started solo promo, apart from a few scrabble boards (in screaming colour) I have a theory he & Taylor played remotely which is why they are colour and she included this.

Here’s some footage of Joe playing scrabble. ….oh sorry, wait, that’s Harry Styles: fan of Scrabble and texting T Swift. Look at her here in the reputation book with the players names covered.. I wonder why lol

Timeline

Ed Sheeran said he wrote his part in a hotel room in New York. He told Audacy that he went to her RI home and heard Rep then the next day wrote it in a hotel in NY. 14 July 2017. (2 months after HS1’s realease)

I was playing Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, she has a place in Rhode Island, which isn't too far so she hits me up I go around. She plays me what turned out to be Reputation and End Game and I was like man this is I really like, can I do a verse can I like do a rap verse and she was like yeah for sure. So the next day i kind of I remember I was in bed and sort of woke up and i got my laptop out but the song just looped it and I wrote wrote this verse and I went in with max martin who she did the song with and recorded it and then future the verse and then Taylor wrote a verse and then yeah we shot we shot a video".

Film Clip

The film clip is less subtle in being Haylor, it takes place in:

Miami, where HS and TS hung out at Courtney Cox's house

Tokyo, where HS went on a 1D break as his first trip overseas without the band

London, where Ed, HS and Joe all live.

Haylor Easter eggs:

0:04 the ferris wheel looks like the winding wheel.

0:21 she is a passenger in a car at night

0:44 she wears a very Harry Gucci Jumpsuit

0:48 there is a polaroid

1:10 she is a single kitten mother, except Olivia is in her Rep Era lol

1:20 the 1989 Rolling Stone shoot, now in the dark with fireworks.

2:09 Taylor 'A' Swift wears an "A" shirt see: Harry's A tattoo. (When asked Harry said "uh... for my mum" which Louis said "No it's not not it's for a mystery blonde" (2:40)

2:39 she wears the Red/WANGBT hat and cane. She also wears the jacket from her red rolling stone cover.

3:13 there are 2 white bird statues that look like his chest tattoos.

3.30 she references the 1D One Thing MV bus scene

3:43 she visits this kebab shop, a similar one with a made up but similar name is in the 1D midnight memories MV. This tik tok is also about this being an ex’s kebab shop

Lyrics

I wanna be your endgame, endgame Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah And you heard about me, ooh I got some big enemies (yeah) Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we'd be a big conversation, ah

HS and TS have both had big reputations as long as they’ve know each other. Now both A-listers dating is a much bigger conversation than one dating anyone else. Her enemies of Scooter and the Kanye are relevant to the music industry.

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see) I don't wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you) Like the other girls do

New Years Day Taylor sings “Please don't ever become a stranger, Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere”.

I don't wanna hurt you (I just wanna be) Drinkin' on a beach with (you all over me)

Harry Styles Debut was released May 2017, 6 months before Rep. Harry told Radio 1 he had played it for Ed earlier. The album lays out a lot of hurt between them Taylor may not have known about in that detail. Drinking, beaches and being all over each other are solid Haylor themes, see Video.

I hit you like, "Bang" We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

Haylor hit like a bang, they met in march, were together almost immediately, he had multiple tattoos that reference her by May and they both had new albums with songs they still perform about each other by October and November. Toe were friends for a long time first and were not yet public.

Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here's the truth from my red lips

There’s a lot of Haylor references here:

They told you I was crazy, I swear I don’t love the drama is a reference to 1989’s Blank Space

I can’t let you go, Handprints on my soul fits is a theme in 1989, MMIH, Stockholm syndrome, ready for it?, Harry’s House.

The truth from my red lips refers to Style, Two Ghosts and other lip related lyrics.

Finally Taylor uses gold to describe HS in Gold Rush: “Everybody wants you, But I don't like a gold rush, What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful?”

#scrabble #haylor #end game #reputation #big reputation #1989 era

[sesiondemadrugada]

Wonder Wheel (Woody Allen, 2017).

#wonder wheel #wonder wheel (2017) #woody allen #vittorio storaro

[jtrocks]

#justin timberlake #movies #jpg #mine #wonder wheel #2017

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

To allow himself joy, his father explains, is what takes the most effort, so Elio pretends he isn’t hollowed out by grief. Assumes the mantle of a dedicated scholar. Fakes it in the hope that one day illusion will become reality.

It’s a bitter confession - and one he’s loath to admit out loud - but as Elio watches the Alder leaves turn yellow in those last, drawn-out weeks of summer, he starts to find the good days outnumbering the bad. 

He misses Oliver dreadfully, of course; his ghost spots a cruel reminder of the larger than life presence that ought to fill them. And he still lies awake at night, fighting back tears as he wonders how a single bed can feel so vastly empty. Yet as the ocean breeze turns biting, necessitating a sweater over Billowy’s thin cotton, Elio realises he’s slowly adjusting to a life without him. 

He throws himself into the Hayden; transcribing the Seven Last Words Of Christ with all his redirected zeal.

Apologises to Marzia; though he’s not entirely sure he’s deserving of her pardon.

Spends hours in his father’s study; the no-pressure companionship working wonders on his mood as he pores over the thick stack of prospetti universitari he’d applied for last spring.

It’s a work in progress, but Elio tells himself he should be happy about the opportunities ahead of him, and by the time they’re back in Milan for the start of September he almost believes it. Pastes on a smile. Acts like this is where he wants to be. That there isn’t a gaping hole beneath his ribs where his heart once resided before it was ripped out and crushed beneath the thundering wheels of a departing regionale. 

To allow himself joy, his father explains, is what takes the most effort, so Elio pretends he isn’t hollowed out by grief. Assumes the mantle of a dedicated scholar. Fakes it in the hope that one day illusion will become reality. 

And it does.

In a way.

By November his smiles grow more frequent - more genuine - and his 

laughter no longer holds the painful echo of loss. 

He applies to colleges in the States. Auditions at conservatoires de musique in Paris, London, and Rome.

There’s still an emptiness inside his chest. A coldness that steals over him when he hears Love My Way on the hit parade. When he catches the boisterous laughter of American tourists as they cycle through the piazzetta.

But he’s doing better.

He is.

And it’s on one of those good days that Elio spends the morning traipsing about the villa’s gardens as snow falls thick and fast around him. 

Returns with numb fingers and toes to the delicious scent of Mafalda’s Hanukkah latkes. 

Picks up the hallway phone without expectation, and hears Oliver’s voice for the first time in months.

Gets knocked back to square one.

“But you never said anything,” he whispers, regret rising like bile in his throat, and when Oliver calls him by his name one last time, it feels like he’ll never have another good day again.

#cmbyn fanfic #elio x oliver #angst #call me by your name #canon compliant

[ruiniel]

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Also on ao3

Tags/CW: Accident context, Depressive character, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, There is a plot, And language nerdery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, Character-meets-world, Near Death Experience, References to Loss, Grief/Mourning, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Slow burn, References to Canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, More tags coming

Summary:

Entertained an idea as I was doing writing warm-ups for CV: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what's more they can't understand a word coming out of their mouth.

I.

You start at the sudden garble of voices on the radio and turn the volume down, eyes then back on the gray road. It's the start of the weekend and you cannot wait to get to your old, decrepit — but still reliable — family cabin set beyond the familiar wooded hills, a few hours' drive out of town. Once you manage better, you'll refurbish and mend it, keep it functional for as long as you can; too many things had time destroyed recently. 

The erosion in your ears is joined by a deafening crack of thunder, and you sigh as you watch the clouds hanging from the skies like a mass of lead.

“We needed this, didn't we?” you mumble at the car, as the trees slip by you on either side, their crowns and limbs bending under rising winds.

It should be getting better by now; you've been this way for months, but finally, things should be looking up again. 

It's not happening; why isn't it happening? 

It's not as though you didn't try getting back on track, struggling to do the things you used to do but no longer find joy in, still banging your metaphorical fists against the walls of your stubborn mind. There's a gnawing bite in the pit of your stomach which comes and goes — that you’re missing something, that something’s not quite right at certain moments, like the wrongly placed piece in a jigsaw puzzle preventing the completion of a greater picture.

The radio's still out and you forgot your phone in the back, which means you'll take the rumble of thunder for entertainment. The skies are even darker, now crested by lightning like holy wounds, cold and white-grey, phantom-like. Now here, now there, so fast they make you blink twice, and your foot eases on that gas pedal. “Never like this before…” you wonder, trying to remember the last time you saw nature so vicious.

If nothing else, it’s a great show.

You’re fairly sure the forest ahead and the faraway places beyond it are currently being drenched, and you hope the patched roof is sturdy enough to withstand nature at its angriest. “So much for weather forecasts,” you say to the water splotches crashing angrily against the windshield, until the dull pattern becomes a thrum against the rigid body of the vehicle, taking you with it in all senses. If only—

“Fuck!”

Your foot slams the brake but not fast enough, and your horror at the humanoid lump you’re trying to avoid running over freezes you but somehow both your hands still grasp the wheel, and next you're skidding to a precarious halt, to what it feels like narrowly avoiding flipping over with the whole damn thing.

Your hands are clammy on the steering wheel as you open your eyes, shivering, and your gaze flies to the rear view mirror; someone, is there. Someone is there, possibly hurt. 

“Oh, oh shit. Shit, shit-shit!” With adrenaline still pumping in your veins you jump out of the car and throw the back door open to search for your phone and call an ambulance, but it must have been flung who-knows-where while you were avoiding death — it's nowhere to be found.

A weak, strangled groan behind you has you whirling around, feet moving and hurrying towards the person now trying to rise to their knees and failing. 

You reach them, staring at a young face that goes with the earlier sound you heard, then at long, tattered hair, and a… ragged cape, dark and sleek with rain. What hits you most, what freezes you more than the pouring water, though, are the eyes. 

Staring at you wildly through the curtain of rain, too confused to not deepen your worry. So light, amber, golden. 

“Hey, hey a-are you hurt?!”

The absolute eeriness about them — him? — leaves you as stunned as the shock you just went through, all relief included.

He doesn't answer you, instead brings a long, heavily cuffed hand to his temple, mumbling something in a language you can't grasp but sounds faintly like 'cali'.

“C-what's that?” you ask. “Is that you? Or where you're from? Are you hurt?” you ask again though he looks left and right, rises, turns a few times, gazes at this hands, then at you, taking in your face and clothes, and the absolute insanity of this situation is beside you when that unusual face twists into utter horror and he plunges his —gloved?— fingers through his hair, raking them over his scalp.

You look him over, and apart from being soaked to the bone and dressed very, very strangely, he seems unharmed. “Listen, I can't find my—”

You gasp as he grabs your arm, staring at you wide eyed and asking you question after question in that language you just don't get and as you struggle you quickly and easily free yourself, only to see him slowly fall against you and is he ever heavy; barely you lead him down to the ground.

It's freezing cold in this downpour. There's a barren field on either side, the nearest town well half a day's drive away. Farther than your cabin, and of course the wiser thing to do would be not to take a complete stranger whom you cannot even understand there, alone with you. Besides, what if it's someone who would do you harm? Worse things have happened for less.

Even with these thoughts you rush back to the car, grab a lantern from the glove compartment and search earnestly for the only device you had on you — the phone. You find it, under one seat, screen cracked. You grab it and try anyway, but it won't charge up no matter what you do.

“Can't believe I'm doing this…” you sigh, throwing the device onto the front seat before you go to retrieve the first aid kit, only to realize there seems to be nothing needing splinting or bandaging. You'd seen no wounds on him, no outward sign of trauma. That might not be the whole story, you know, but what else to do?

You head back, see him rising to his feet again. Your steps become cautious. He's taller than you expected, but hunched and so confused as he repeats that word again, over and over, hugging his arms at his chest. Your sensible worries don't strike as hard anymore, and you come closer. “I… can try to keep you dry until you come to,” you say, but it's like he can't quite look at you, those peculiar eyes wild and head turning left and right, as though seeking something far above or deep below, and when your gazes finally collide, your thought flicks back to the jigsaw puzzle.

You nearly trip over in your haste to help when his knees buckle and he goes limp, falling to the ground again. His face is pale, deathly pale, long wet hair stuck to the skin.

The storm no longer rages, its cry is more wind than rain. The branches of trees still creak above as you pant here, between somewhere and nowhere, on the side of an empty country road with a stranger in your arms.

Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI

Banner illustration: Fifth Avenue at Twilight, ca. 1910 by Birge Harrison

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

#alucard castlevania x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania netflix #castlevania imagine #castlevania x reader #adrian tepes x reader #castlevania fanfiction #alucard #adrian tepes #alucard castlevania #alucard castlevania x you #castlevania x you #castlevania alucard #x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #another way #isekai fic #isekai #adrian tepes x oc #adrian tepes x you #adrian fahrenheit tepes #second person POV #castlevania fic

[into-september]

For the "always wondered" questions: What's the meaning of "into September"?

...so in those halcyon days of 2011, I left uni and got my first adult job, which as it happened involved working with teenagers who were liable to be on the internet and also knew English. My old Livejournal - at that point some nine years old - had some information that if you dug deep enough, could've identified me IRL, and since I was at that point in a fandom where I didn't really have any friends (but for the first and this far only time, a nemesis!), I decided to quietly move house.

This happened during a time of my life that was defined by melacholy. My only ambition in life had been to study at a university, and now I had no idea what more there was. Eight years after I'd moved out on my own for the first time - most of which had been spent in a Real City, and two of them abroad - I was moving back to my rural home district, to a place larger than my hometown but even further away from the rest of civilisation. It felt like a regression, but also of waiting, since the only reason I was there was because that was where I had the job offer - I was sure I'd be out of there come June 2012. (spoiler: I wasn't)

So I wanted this new Livejournal for this new stage of my life to reflect that juxtaposition of something new beginning in a place where there is no future. And, well: September is both the time when the wheel starts turning again for those of us in the public school system, as well as heralding the inevitable fact that summer has ended and winter is coming. (it's allegedly called something like "the second new year's" in France, if Arte is to be believed)

I had a legit list of new journal handles until I landed on "days of september", which I changed somewhat when I made this tumblr a year or so later. (I had some idea that I didn't want this to be traced back there, but I can't remember why) This was towards the end of The Great Fandom Migration, and that second LJ never saw much use since the handful of friends who followed it soon enough left LJ behind. The most recent post is from New Year's Day 2017.

Yes, my default userpic was the same as my icon on here. Yes, this was also a refleciton of the kind of feeling that dominated my life back then.

...so that was a whole story, the moral of which is that the month of September came to symbolise a transcient stage of my life during which everything slowed down and I had no idea where I'd go next, because I'd reached the finish line and I was in the exact same place as where I'd begun.

Also this song.

#yes i love talking about myself #blah #fandom history #me #music #ask game

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Kate Winslet in Wonder Wheel, Woody Allen, 2017

#Woody Allen #Kate Winslet