#rich cole

[beautifulsweetschaos]

Gwayne Hightower is giving rich, cocky boarding school boy who’s never been in a real fight in his life vibes 😂🙏🏻

[nando161mando]

[skrunklydoo]

movieverse lostshipping punk cole x decora/mori kei (you pick) geo chat am i cooking

[delusional-ninjago-fangirl]

Yung cole headcanons you ready to cry

Coles father was emotionaly abusiv and when cole realized that that wasn't normal and told one of his teachers they didn't take him seriously

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

rich girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as bullying, manipulation, cheating, noncon/dubcon, Lloyd being Lloyd, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your long awaited ascension to the Home Owners Association proves more than you bargained for. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, side of Cole Turner

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

You go home but can’t forget about what happened. You’ve never in your life dealt with someone like that man. He was so bold and brazen and shameless. Much different than your husband.

Even if you still don’t know what he did to land in the crosshairs of the HOA, you can assume it wasn’t very dissimilar to your own encounter. You hope they’ll understand when you tell them you couldn’t get a signature. You delivered the message but you can’t help that that man didn’t want to listen.

You find it hard to calm down as you try to focus on chores instead of your failure. All this time you spent trying to be a part of the in-crowd and now you’re falling flat on your face. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this. Maybe Cole is wrong.

As you scrub dishes, the lazy tones of your music playing from the little bluetooth stuck to the tile, a sudden squeeze around your hips makes you jump. You cry out and spin, splashing your husband as he stands behind you. He closes his eyes as the water soaks the front of his shirt, your yellow gloves dripping with soap bubbles.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you,” you squeal.

“It’s fine,” he uses his sleeve to wipe his face, “I know you didn’t. I wanted to scare you.”

“Ugh, you know I hate that,” you pout.

“So,” he grabs the dish towel from the rack and dabs at his button-up, “tell me all about it. How was your first meeting?”

He turns to lean in the crook of the counter, watching you expectantly. You seal your lips and face the sink again. You plunge your hands into the water and shrug.

“It was okay,” you say, “I... I have an assignment so... uh...” you don’t know how to tell him what happened. You think maybe it’s better he doesn’t know. “I’m working on it.”

“An assignment?” He tilts his head, “exciting. What is it?”

You chew your lip and put another plate in the dishwasher, “just you know this guy...” you gulp dryly as you grasp for a lie, “he has this thing on his lawn so I’m just supposed to you know, get him to move it.”

“Wow, hard-hitting stuff,” he chuckles, “you’re like a police officer or something.”

“Not really. I mean, he could just ignore me,” you frown guiltily. That’s exactly what happened.

“Hm, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, baby,” he coos as he stands straight, “what’s for dinner?”

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the roast,” you strip the gloves off your hands and shut off the faucet, “I guess... I could do chops?”

“Ah, sounds delicious,” he creeps closer as you open the fridge, “and dessert?”

“Dessert? Well, erm, I could do like sorbet or sponge cake--”

He comes around the door and hugs you from behind, “I’m not talking about food, honey,” he rocks you and reaches to close the fridge door. He taps on the calendar, “ovulating... right?”

You look at the days circled with hearts. Oh yeah. Your heart flutters and you turn in his arms, touching his chest. You’re almost too anxious to get into it but you missed it last month. You can’t risk it again.

“Yeah, I uh, sure am,” you chime.

“Mm,” his blue eyes turn smoky, “do I really have to wait until after dinner to have my dessert?”

You giggle, more uneasy than aroused. You’re just not ready for it but you also don’t have the heart to deny him. Besides, you’ll just be too tired later.

“That’s up to you,” you run your hands across his shoulders, “are you feeling peckish?”

“Starving,” he snarls and his hands circle your waist, “babe, I wanna try something new.”

“New?” You ask.

“Mm hmm,” he bites his lip, “take your clothes off... but keep the apron on.”

You look down and back at him. You grin crookedly, “oh?”

“Trust me?”

“Of course,” you quaver and step away from the fridge, the door falling shut behind you.

He stands back and crosses his arms. You notice his pants twitch as he watches you. You untie the apron and let it hand loosely from your neck. You reach to unzip your dress and shimmy out of it. As you go to roll down your nylons, he tuts.

“You can keep those too.”

Your cheeks are on fire as you unhook your bra and pull it out from under the apron. As you roll down your panties, he lets out a gritty breath. His hand covers the bulge in his pants. You tie a bow in the back of the apron, cinching your waist as your tits threaten to spill out and the cool air tickles your bare bum.

“Will you use your mouth?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt, his hands eagerly clumsy.

“Is that what you want?” You ask. He’s not usually this adventurous. In the kitchen?

“Sure,” he pushes his pants down and groans as his dick catches in the elastic of his briefs, “god, I’ve been thinking of this all day.” He frees himself and sighs, “of you, baby.”

He beckons you forward as he pumps himself. You bend your knee and he tisks again. He pets your chin and looks you up and down.

“Not on your knees, just bend over,” he directs, “I wanna see your ass.”

You nearly gasp. He doesn’t often swear, even in the heat of the moment. You do as he says, bending and craning your head to level yourself with his tip as he aims it towards you. He’s pressing against you before you can even open your mouth.

His other hand comes up to grip your head, clamping your hair in a fist, as he forces you onto him. You gag and catch yourself on his thighs, teetering as you arch your feet. He rocks his hips, holding you still as he falls into a steady tempo, not waiting for you to warm him up.

His dick scrapes in your dry mouth. He groans as he tilts into you, deeper and deeper. You trail your hand up to cling to his shirt, moaning as you try to signal him to slow down. You can tell he’s been waiting but you’re not ready. You need a little longer to warm up.

“Mm, honey, you look so good,” he touches your back as he rocks you, “mm, yeah.”

He pushes further in, hitting the resistance at the back of your throat. He tugs your hair, angling your head as he buries himself in your throat. You spasm and choke around him. He’s never gone that deep. He lets out a shuddery growl.

“Yeah, so good,” he praises and slows, making long thrusts as moves his hand around your neck, feeling his intrusion. Your eyes well and you slap his chest. You can’t breathe. “Just a little more.”

He pushes until your lips are to his pelvis and slobber smears around your mouth. He relents as you clutch the front of his shirt and slides out completely. You cough and drag yourself up as you cling to him. You bat your lashes at him and press the back of your hand to your mouth.

His long lashes flutter, “sorry, baby, was that too much?”

You clear your throat and shake, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I was just excited,” he touches your shoulders, “come on, better not waste it. I feel it, this is the time.”

You wobble forward as he nudges you towards the counter. He turns to stand behind you, surprising you again. You’re always facing him, usually under him. He has all sorts of new ideas. He tickles your spine then grips your shoulder, leaning into you until you bend against the counter.

He rubs his tip along your butt, tracing the shape down to your folds. He bends his knees and comes up under you, prodding at your entrance until he dips inside. You whimper as he stretches you. You’re barely wet yet. You're so dizzy you can’t get into it.

He rams to his limit and you’re back on your toes. You brace the counter as he falls into a rapid motion, pounding against your ass. Flesh slaps loudly as he ruts without restraint, a hand on your hip to keep you from slipping off.

“Slow, please,” you beg through pained huffs, “Cole, you’re hurting--”

He grabs the back of your head and pushes it down, your cheek touching the marble as he rolls his pelvis into you. He hammers until your walls feel ready to split and roars as he empties himself into you. He slows only as the slickness coats you and seeps out around him.

He holds himself as deep as you can take him. You shake and keep one hand over the lip to the counter as you reach with your other between your legs. Ow.

“Was that good?” He exhales.

You shake and extend your arm back to flick him away. He slides out and his cum drips onto the floor between your feet. You stand and cup your cunt as you face him.

“That was... a lot,” you babble.

“Oh,” he seems genuinely shocked, “I’m sorry, honey, I guess I got carried away.”

“Mm, I know but... that was so... different,” you hiss at the rawness in your folds.

“I... I thought you’d like it.”

“I...” you look at him and frown. You don’t want to ever disappoint him. “I did, it’s just... it was so fast.”

“Right,” he lets out a breath, “I can make it up to you. How about tomorrow?”

You smile and nod. He has a business dinner tomorrow. He won’t be home until later, but you know he’ll get to it. When he can.

[workingforitallthetime]

7/3/24

[whydervi]

Ok fine I give in

I’ve been holding back my hyperfication

I will (might) post more frequently because ninjago is all I’ve been thinking about for a month

I need help

[alicent-targaryen]

MICHAEL GRAY ▸ Peaky Blinders, 5.3

[blondeaxolotl]

Every time I look at him...

All I can see is him...

[jazzandother-blog]

Charlie Parker watching Dizzy Gillespie perform in New York, circa 1947.

( English /Español)

It is said that Charlie Parker once said: "I couldn't stand the stereotypical harmonies that anyone was playing at the time. I kept thinking there must be something different. Sometimes I could hear it but I couldn't play it...".

"Yes, that night I improvised for a long time on "Cherokee". As I did so I realised that, by using the upper intervals of the harmonies as a melodic line and placing new harmonies more or less in tune underneath, I could suddenly play what I had heard inside me for so long. I was filled with life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Se cuenta que una ocasión dijo Charlie Parker: "ya no aguantaba más las armonías estereotipadas que cualquiera tocaba entonces. No paraba de pensar que debía de haber algo diferente. A veces lo podia oir pero no lo podía tocar..."

"Si, esa noche improvisé durante mucho tiempo sobre "Cherokee". Mientras lo hacía me di cuenta de que, al utilizar los intervalos superiores de las armonías como línea melódica colocando debajo armonías nuevas más o menos afinadas, podía tocar de repente aquello que por tanto tiempo había oído dentro de mi. Me llené de vida.

Fuente: El Jazz, by Joachim Berendt

LISTEN ´´CHEROKEE´´ HERE:

Charlie Parker/ Yardbird In Lotus Land/ Live in Los Angeles, 1946 -

Charlie Parker - alto saxophone

Benny Carter - alto saxophone

Willie Smith - alto saxophone

with:

The King Cole Trio

Nat King Cole - piano

Oscar Moore - guitar

Johnny Miller - bass

Buddy Rich - drums

[nando161mando]

[saintsunfyre]

i think we should start calling people who hate criston cole misandrists.

[solroswaslost]

Erick had his own butler.. should I bring him back??

I think his name was Sylvester

He's very pretty...

[rainofthetwilight]

imagine....ninjago arabic dub, but everyone has different dialects instead of just speaking in fus7a

lloyd is syrian, kai and nya are lebanese or libyan (probably libyan), jay is morrocan, cole is egyptian, zane is iraqi, pixal is jordanian, and wu is stuck in fus7a lmao

arin is yemeni, sora, jordana and percival are lebanese (basically imperium as a whole r lebanese), wyldfyre is egyptian, euphrasia (and the cloud kingdom) is syrian, and ras would probably be any khaleegi dialect except iraqi (I'm sorry I cannot see him have any dialect other than a khaleegi one that's not iraqi, he's not deserving of iraqi it's too good for him 💪), and judging by cinder's voice in french he prob might be jordanian?? Ig???

[atopvisenyashill]

wait okay “middle class” houses (is there a word for this that is historically accurate? like is it just gentry?)

baelish - petyr is basically like New Money

cassel

clegane

cole

connington (?)

dalt

fenn

haigh (vassals of the freys - there’s a bunch of em just running around)

hasty (of bonifer fame)

lorch

poole

seaworth

westerling/spicer (? for similar reasons)

[seanshakur]