#simmons' attires

[taylortots-world]

On The Clock

Summary: Reader and Sam get a little sidetracked while working a case.

Warnings:‼️ NSFW‼️, smut, 18+ minors dni! , mentions of voyeurism, oral sex:(f receiving)

A/N: Enjoy! Feedback and re blogs are much appreciated.

Read part two here.

Sam, Dean and myself picked up a case in a rural area over in Ohio. A series of murders all strung throughout a specific town, the town being rather small. Nothing the three of us haven't seen before. Dean left Baby to Sam and I while he went and played bad cop with some of the potential suspects.

Sam and I were dressed in fed attire. I wore a knee length pencil skirt, paired with a white dress shirt and blazer. Sam wore a charcoal suit, paired with a white dress shirt and tie. He looked incredible. I'd occasionally glance over at him and take him in. The way he drove, one hand on the wheel. The occasion beard scratch. Fuck. Stay focused Y/N. When Sam started growing his beard out, it awoken something in me. I don't know how or why, but I have never wanted him more. Needed him- craved him.

Once we pulled into the parking lot of the local police station, Sam pocketed his keys and rolled his head to look at me. "You ready Y/N/N?" I gave him a small smile, nodding. "Ready as I'll ever be Smith." 'Smith' was the last name printed onto the ID Sam was currently using. Mine had 'Simmons' printed onto it. Courtesy of Dean of course. We made our way inside, Sam holding the station door open for me. I gave him a nod and brushed past him. I stepped up to the front counter. Sam and I flashed our IDs in unison. "Special Agent Simmons, this is my partner Special Agent Smith. We'd just like to ask the sheriff a few questions." I glanced up at the secretary as I tucked my ID into the inner pocket of my blazer. He was a younger gentleman with dirty blonde hair. "Of course, just a moment." He pressed his lips together giving us a small smile as he began to punch the sheriffs number into the phone.

***

After speaking briefly with a deputy, Sam and I were left waiting for the sheriff. We walked around the station in hopes of finding someone else to question, but we had no luck. Throughout our visit at the station, I couldn't stop staring at him. I'd sneak the occasional glance, trying to be as subtle as possible. We turned a corner, planning on heading back to the waiting area. Soon as I turned the corner in front of Sam, he yanked on my arm before pulling me into a dark room. He reached up and pulled the string, a single lightbulb illuminating the small room. I glanced around, taking in our surroundings. We were in a janitor's closet. It smelled of chemicals and artificial lemon. I gazed up at him, cocking a brow. "What are you doing? Why are we in here Sam?" I was genuinely confused why he'd yank me into a random room.

He exhaled with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you mad at me or something?" He allowed his arms to fall to his side, palms facing upwards. I squinted my eyes at him, giving him a confused stare. "No? Why would I be mad at you?" His gaze softened. Sam was a pretty gentle and kind guy, until you gave him a reason not to be.

"I just, I don't know." He shrugged, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "You just what?" My brows remained lifted as I continued to stare up at him, waiting for him to respond. "I keep catching you staring at me and I can't tell if it's because you're mad or something else." My stomach slightly knotted. Shit. My "subtle glances' hadn't been as subtle as I was hoping for. I felt my face slightly heat as I averted my eyes to my feet. He took a small step forward, using his knuckle to tilt my chin upwards to meet his stare. "You know you can talk to me, right? Tell me anything." He spoke softly as he gazed down at me, his knuckle still resting on the underside of my chin.

This was it. This was my moment. No. No it wasn't. What are you thinking Y/N? You'll mess up everything. "Oh fuck it." I breathed out before smashing my lips against his. He was slightly shocked within the first second, but that did not stop him from kissing back. His hands found my hips as our mouths worked with each other. His tongue occasionally brushing against my bottom lip, sending chills down my spine. He must've noticed that I was standing on my tippy toes. His hands slid down my waist, over my ass and to the back of my thighs. "Jump." He mumbled into my mouth. I quickly jumped, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I felt his lips curl into a smirk against my lips as he backed me into a wall. Without breaking the kiss, I quickly pawed and toyed with his tie. He gently took my hand, holding it away. "What's wrong?" I asked slightly worried as I tried to catch my breath. "This is about you." He whispered. I clung to him as he turned, setting me on top of a shipping crate. "What are you-" A smirk remained on my face as I watched him kneel before me. "Cases always leave me starving. So I'm spoiling my dinner and skipping straight to dessert." Every word he spoke went straight to my core. I could feel myself throbbing. "Sam- what if someone hears us? Or finds us?" He glanced up at me as he slid my shoes off. "Does it look like I give a fuck? Let them find us." He lowered his face to mine and whispered "Let them hear how good I make you feel." I playfully nipped at his ear before he returned his attention to my clothes. I lifted my ass and tugged my skirt up , scrunching it up around my waist. He hummed lowly as he examined my panties. They were a lace pair in dark blue. Not the sexiest pair I own but definitely not the worst either.

His large hands wrapped around the back of my legs, pulling them up to rest on either of his shoulders. I slightly arched my back as he ran his beard against the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. "Sam- please.." I felt myself getting wetter by the second. "I'm gettin' to it baby. I like making you squirm." He let out a dry laugh before pulling my panties aside. My throbbing and sleek pussy now on display. "God, you're so beautiful.." He said in a whisper like tone as he lowered his head once more, placing gentle kisses to my inner thigh.

My hips slightly wiggled under his touch as he got closer to where I wanted him most. He flattened his tongue against my core, licking a stripe up to just below my clit. My breathing began to falter, soft moans and pants leaving my lips. He ran his hand up my torso, gently massaging and kneading my right tit. His lips wrapped around my clit, his tongue lightly flicking it. I could cry at this moment. It felt so good. He knew exactly where and how to touch me. "Fuck Sam-" I moaned out, planting a hand in his hair. "You taste amazing-" He mumbled , his words vibrating against my clit. I shut my eyes and threw my head back, enjoying the bliss of Sam Winchester. He carefully eased two fingers into me. His fingers worked in and out of me quite easily, considering I'm soaked. "Just like that-" I rasped out. I felt him smirk against my pussy. His tongue still flicking and sucking my clit as his fingers worked in and out of me. The room was full of our moans and the squelching of my wetness against his fingers. "Fuck I'm gonna come-" I rasped out, slightly tightening my grip on his hair. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of me at the same pace. His tongue moved against my clit slightly faster, throwing me over the edge. My orgasm ripped through me like an F5 tornado. My legs slightly shook as they clung to the sides of Sam's head. "Holy fuck." I said with a slight laugh afterwards. He stood up, wiping my slick off of his chin. "I want round two." He smiled at me as he held out my shoes for me. "Deal. Except next time, it's going to be all about you."

[agentoli]

Implant Miniseries: Delta [pt. 1]

Words: 2.5k

TW: panic attacks, mention of death, mention of blood.

Summary: Simmons gets to share his brain with a computer chip, and he is terrified. Luckily, Grif is there to help his friend keep his cool.

Notes: Grimmons warning (mild). It's been a while since I've actually written anything, so apologies if the consistency is a bit wack.

In the brightly colored waiting room sat a rather dreary man, who sat with his elbows on his knees and hands loosely clasped. Between his feet lay his helmet, freshly polished and free from any damage. He preferred it that way. Despite his job and its dangers, he found solace in routine.

Simmons bit his lip as his green eyes flickered around the childish room, never settling for more than a second lest he fall back into his muddled thoughts. Although, he dipped briefly into the torrent to wonder where his orange companion was. Grif had assured Simmons he would be there for the operation, just in case. At the time, he had callously brushed it off as he always had, waving a hand to dispell the 'silly' notion.

Yet, he felt his nerves grow more erratic as the clock ticked forward. Did the man actually take his deflection to heart? What happened to the Grif that didn't care what others said? And why did he actually wish the heavy set man was here to calm him down?

All of a sudden, his armor felt a bit to tight, and the air was a tad thicker than before. Simmons could feel his pulse quicken in his chest. He grimaced, hands gripping tighter onto eachother. Not here. Not now. You should feel lucky.

Simmons nearly jumped to his feet as the door hissed, sliding open to reveal a larger man in casual clothes. His dark curls spilled wildly over his shoulders, matching the disheveled look the rest of his 'fresh out of bed' attire.

The man's dark eyes meandered over to the figure in armor, a lazy smile growing in his face. "You look like a mess."

Summons scoffed, straightening his posture. "I look put together. Unlike you, I got ready this morning."

"Uh, yeah. 'Cuz you're about to mind meld with a computer chip." Grif practically fell into the chair besides his armored friend, shoving a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulled out a handful of hard candies, one of which he dexterously popped in his mouth.

The paler man frowned, "Nice breakfast. Hoping your sugar will crash in time to avoid drills today?"

"Simmons, you know me so well." Grif offered a piece without looking.

He froze, blinking for a moment. "Since when do you share your food?"

"If you don't want it, thats fine—"

"No, I'll take it!" Simmons' vooce squeaked out, swiftly snatching the small treat away. He fumbled for a moment with the wrapper before shoving it into his mouth. "Eugh, milk chocolate? Seriously?"

"Beggars can't be choosers. 'Sides, there's no way I'd carry around dark chocolate. That stuff sucks." Grif swallowed another candy, rolling the wrappers into a ball.

Simmons watched his hands, no longer consumed with the ticking clock or how garrishly the waiting room was decorated. His eyes drifted slowly to his face. The stubble, the warm brown eyes, the greasy curls, the flawed skin... He blinked, looking away. 'No! Do NOT think about Grif like some crushing schoolgirl!!'

"So, you're getting an AI, right? How's it feel to he the first sucker on Team Bravo to get one?" Grif hummed, tilting his head to look at his redheaded companion.

The man turned his gaze back to meet Grif's. "Scared...? Like somehow I'll mess up?"

Grif made a face, huffing amusedly. "Dude, how do you mess up getting an implant? If anyone would screw it up, it's Doc, and you know his track record."

"I don't know... what if my AI doesn't like me?"

"That, I can see..."

"Grif!" Simmons whined, pouting. "Aren't you supposed to be giving me a pep talk?!"

"If you wanted a pep talk, you should've asked Donut, or Sarge. Me? I'm an impartial third party." Grif leaned back with a hum. "You gotta realize you aren't the first one to get an AI."

"Sure, but we all know Church is a freak." Simmons replied pointedly.

The disheveled man laughed into his fist. "Don't let him hear you say that."

"What's he gonna do? Cry to The Director? Like they'll do anything." He huffed and folded his arms. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Church is in some torrid love affair with them. First to get an AI, Captain of Team Alpha, always first pick for missions. It's unfair."

"Hey, less work for me."

"Every day I question why they stuck you in Bravo."

"If it were up to me, I'd be Charlie all the way."

"You want to be bossed around by Donut?"

"On second thought, maybe Sarge isn't so bad..."

Before the conversation could continue, another door slid open, and an unarmored man stepped through. He had tied his black fluffy curls back and wore a white surgical mask. Simmons remarked on how clean his scrubs looked, usually they were stained with the previous patient's bodily fluids. His eyes were heavy behind his circular glasses. Woth a deep inhale, Doc finally spoke. "Richard Simmons, the operation is ready to proceed. You will need your full suit of armor for this, though you may keep your helmet off." He spoke far more professionally than usual. Had he been like this with Church a few weeks ago?

Simmons blinked, feeling his blood pressure spike again. This was it. It was time. Millions of what-ifs filled his head like a discordant choir. His vision blurred, fading at the ends.

A large, warm hand on his own stilled the waters enough to see clearly, a quick glance confirmed the culprit to be the perfect messy man with perfect messy features. If Simmons wasn't so terrified, he supposes his face would turn red. Instead, he nodded to his friend and stood up, making sure to grab his helmet as he walked towards DuFresne.

"Hey, before you go." Grif commanded one more moment of his attention, waiting until the man turned to look his way. With the softest, kindest smile Simmons had ever seen, the tired agent spoke, "Good luck, buddy."

Simmons had to look away to hide the warmness that crept upon his freckled face, although Doc recieved front row seats. The medic raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he turned into the medbay.

The maroon agent followed, an odd serenity forcing his usual anxieties to settle down and dissapate into the well of conflicting emotions still stirring in his heart. He was led to a hospital bed and told to sit while the medic performed his usual check-up routine. Simmons wasn't really paying attention, mind fixated on his companion's dopey smile and warm hand that he swore he could still feel even through his gauntlets.

"Simmons?" He was pulled back to reality by a gentle hand on his shoulder and questioning eyes. Admittedly, DuFresne was a gorgeous man, but yet his heart never fluttered like it did when he had to wake Dexter up and saw his sleeping expression, or whenever Grif laughed so hard he had to lean against him, or— "Simmons!"

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You were spacing out." Even, professional, unfeeling.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous." He lied, because the truth was a lot more embarrassing and something he did not want to voice.

Doc held his gaze for a moment as if studying his expression for any dishonesty. Apparently satisfied, he moved over to his desk and pressed a button. A quiet beep sounded off, and within minutes two more people walked through the medbay doors.

Instinctively, Richard lowered his gaze, content to stare at The Directors shoes than dare meet their eyes. Beside them was someone leagues less terrifying, though all the same intimidating.

Vic spoke first, his odd mannerisms spilling out even in his 'no nonsense' tone. "Alrighty duderino. Congrats on being numero dos to recieve an AI! How are you feeling?"

"Uhm... okay. I'm nervous, of course, but I'm—"

"Happy to hear it comrade!" Vic cut him off, and Richard wished he could just swallow his tongue.

A more controlled voice spoke next, "Richard Simmons, are you fully prepared to take on this responsibility?"

He only nodded, remarking on how shiny The Director's shoes were.

"Very well. Vic, you may hand over the storage device." They turned slightly to speak to the Counselor.

DuFresne carefully took the black cube in his hands, moving back towards Simmons. Another gentle touch commanded the agent's attention once more. "You will feel a slight pinch and something close to a jolt of electricity. Try not to flinch to much." With the warning, the hand pushed Richard's head down to expose his neck port, courtesy the procedure a week prior to prepare for the implantation.

Simmons closed his eyes, finally allowing his thoughts to rest on Dexter without reeling in embarassment. As much as he hated to admit it, the image of his orange companion brought him comfort. He must have gotten carried away as he scarcely felt the pinch. Although the shock did well to force his attention. He seized up, hissing in pain as thousands of needles stabbed into his spine and skull, his hands clenched to tightly that if it werent for his gauntlets his nails would leave angry red cresents in their wake.

The idle beeping he had heard before quickened, and suddenly the gentle grasp on his nape turned to two forceful hands on his shoulders. Was he being held down? Why did everything sound so far away? Who was yelling? At him? The only thing Simmons could accurately identify was the sensation of every nerve ending screaming out in discordance.

"..mons!......ap ou... ri... Breathe!"

'I can't open my eyes, I can't breathe, I'm trapped. I'm going to die—'

<Richard Simmons, you are not going to die.>

A lifeboat appeared.

<It seems my implantation has triggered a panic attack.>

A hand reached out.

<You are not in danger.>

He was dragged from the torrent.

<You are safe.>

He could finally breathe.

Simmons' eyes slowly peeled open, squinting as bright florescent lights hit his ill-adjusted eyes. Something held him in a tight, warm embrace. He unconsciously leaned into it, noting how sweet his first breath of air tasted. The ringing in his ears slowly faded, giving way to muffled chatter from distorted voices he struggled to put names to.

<That does not matter. Focus on stilling your mind.>

Whoever kept breaking through the fog, Simmons figured he should obey. Focus on my rapid mind, focus on the warm anchor keeping me grounded, focus on breathing.

<I will not let harm come to you, Simmons. You are safe.>

"Is he alright?" Finally, a second voice pushed past the walls. Still, he wasn't sure who.

A louder voice responded, likely the thing wrapping itself around him judging by how it rumbled. "He isn't shaking as much as before. Just, give it a little longer."

"No... I'm fine." Simmons managed, ignoring the coarse feeling in his throat.

The anchor hummed, questioning, "Are you sure? You seemed pretty freaked out."

Richard finally waved away the cloud muddling his senses, fully taking in his surroundings. With that, he pushed his 'anchor ' away and stumbled to his feet. "Grif? What the hell?!" He cringed at how squeaky and hoarse he sounded.

He was met with a concerned frown. "Are you sure you're all there? The AI didn't eat your brain or anything, did it?

<No, I didn't. I am incapable of consumption.>

"What?"

"I said—"

"No, not you, the disembodied voice! You guys don't hear that?"

Confusion spread across the other occupants, each giving odd glances to eachother (save for The Director who remained stoic). DuFresne carefully approached him, slowly raising a hand to hold the agent's chin. Simmons stood extremely still as the medic tilted his head in every direction, keeping up as another hand pulled at his eyelids to stare into his green eyes.

When Doc finally sighed, the tension in the medbay started to dissapate. "That voice you are hearing is your AI. Grif, can you pass me his helmet?" His voice was much more amicable than before, shedding all monotone professionalism in favor of a soft, reassuring tone.

The casually dressed man obeyed, setting the meticulously maintained helmet in the medic's hands, watching as it was then offered to the armored agent.

Simmons mindlessly fitted it over his head, making sure it clicked into place. Within moments, a holographic figure flickered to life a few inches from his visor. The maroon agent jumped back, swatting at the image. "ACK!"

"Please do not do that." Now subjected to the acoustics of the room, the disembodied voice left his mind.

He looked owlishly at the others, pointing at the hologram with a series of strangled breaths. The charade earned another muffled chuckle from Grif. "Yeah, we see it."

"He is an AI. Delta." Doc subtely corrected, making a few notes on his clipboard. Grif raised an eyebrow but chose to let any comments die in his throat. After a few moments of hurried writing, the medic returned his inquisitive gaze to the maroon agent. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy, slightly uncomfortable, and there is this buzzing in the back of my head." Richard relayed.

"Okay... How is your connection with Delta?"

He tilted his head, "I'm sorry?"

"Does he feel fuzzy or distant in any way? Can you feel his presence?"

"No, it's pretty clear."

"Great! One last question," DuFresne twirled to swipe a stress ball from his desk. "In the interval between this ball resting in my hand, and it touching the floor, what is it's top speed?" Without waiting for a response, the medic tossed the item up and let it fall to the floor.

<Approximately 10 meters per second.>

"10 meters per second." He parroted, pausing afterwards to glance at the green holographic soldier, then back at Doc. "That was..."

"Incredibly lame?" Grif interjected, lightly punching his companion's shoulder.

Simmons whipped around to grab his shoulders, a wild look in his eyes hidden behind his visor. "No! It's amazing! Do you realize how efficient this will make me?! Grif, I have a miniature computer in my brain that can make calculations in a fraction of the time it would take for me to even react! This is a dream come true! Sarge will finally acknowledge how useful I am and give me a promotion!!"

Grif patted one of Richard's forearms, "Uh, you know that's not how Teams work, right?"

"HUSH! Now is not the time for your argumentative comments! I need to test Delta out!!" He began shaking the heavy-set man.

"Chill out! You just got done with implantation. Don't you need to recover or something?" He glanced over at DuFresne, hoping for the medic to back him up.

Instead, Doc smiled. "Actually, we were expecting him to conduct a combat test."

Once more, Grif looked like he wanted to argue, but a quick glance back towards his friend killed those words. "Fine. I'll stick around to watch you get your ass beat again."

[blakeswritingimagines]

I'm Crazy For You

Summary: Going on a blind date sounded fun.... until your date comes off as a weird creep with a bar at his house.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: DUB-CON, Sex on the first date, mention of drinking and something going in reader's drink, Yandere Spawn, Rough sex, No protection.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Al Simmons/Hellspawn character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The dimly lit restaurant provided the perfect atmosphere. Al sat at a secluded table, cloaked in darkness, waiting for his blind date to arrive. As the door chime signaled the arrival of a new guest, his attention was drawn to who walked in. Your eyes met across the room, and he couldn't help but notice the hint of vulnerability in your eyes and how you exuded an aura of innocence and fragility. Al's heart skipped a beat as he gazed across the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of tenderness and protection towards this stranger. The dimly lit restaurant seemed to fade into obscurity, his focus solely on you. You nervously adjusted the clothes you had chosen for the date, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You walked into the dimly lit restaurant and caught sight of a man seated alone at a secluded table, his features partially hidden in the shadows. As your eyes met, you felt a shiver run down your spine, his gaze holding a sense of protectiveness that both intrigued you.

He observed your nervous mannerisms as you adjusted your attire, and he couldn't help but notice the conflicting emotions on your face. As you approached his table, his eyes fixed on you, taking in every detail of your appearance. The vulnerability in your eyes and the aura of innocence surrounding you drew him in, speaking to a twisted part of his nature. He stood up as you reached the table, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. You tried to suppress the nervous flutter in your chest as you took in his towering frame, feeling a mix of trepidation and attraction. Your eyes met his intense gaze, your heart rate quickening, and the air between you charged. He offered to take your coat, and you nodded silently, slipping it off. His touch was shockingly gentle as he hung it on a nearby hook, a stark contrast to his imposing presence. His eyes never left you as he hung up your coat, noticing every small movement and reaction. The combination of trepidation and attraction in your gaze intrigued him, and he couldn't deny the pull he felt toward you. He pulled out a chair for you, gesturing for you to sit. As you settled into your seat, the dim light highlighted the contrast between his imposing demeanor and the surprising gentleness he exhibited in his actions.

You sat down gracefully, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. He took his seat across from you, the table separating you but not lessening the intensity of his gaze. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and underlying tension. He leaned casually back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you, studying you intently, as if trying to unravel the mysterious package wrapped in vulnerability and innocence before him. The restaurant buzz faded into the background as your focus remained solely on Al. The way he observed you made you feel both exposed and desired. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips like a predator silently acknowledging his fascination with his prey. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes studying every detail of your nervous mannerisms and innocent air. He leaned back in his chair, his casual demeanor contrasting with the intense focus in his gaze. The silence between you weighed heavily, filled with unspoken words and a charge that crackled like static. He observed you closely, noting the fragility that seemed to cling to your every movement as if you were a delicate bird in a world full of predators. He longed to draw you closer, to protect you from the cruelties of the world, but there was a hunger within him that threatened to consume. He studied you for a moment before finally breaking the silence. "You seem nervous," he observed, his voice low and velvety, yet tinged with an edge of protectiveness. "Is this your first blind date?"

You felt yourself get flustered by his notice, a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability passing over your face. "Yes, it is," you admitted quietly, "I'm…a bit out of my comfort zone here, to be honest." You fidgeted with your hair, averting your eyes for a moment like a sick moment of dread. "I've never really done something like this before.." He noticed the mix of vulnerability and embarrassment making you even more endearing to him. His protective instincts flared as you confessed this was your first blind date, and he found himself drawn to your innocence, your vulnerability like a magnet. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. "Don't worry. I won't bite… unless you ask nicely." He said with an undertone of a tease. The teasing lilt in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You raised your gaze to meet his eyes again, and you found yourself lost in their depths for a moment. "Is that an open invitation?" you teased back, a flicker of bravery igniting within you. His lips curled into a slight smirk, amused and intrigued by your unexpected banter. The protective instinct within him was mingled with something more primal, and he found himself liking the slight fire that had ignited in you. His eyes darkened with an inexplicable possessiveness. "Careful," he warned, his voice sultry. "Keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it." He winked before looking through the menu.

A treacherous part of your mind wondered what exactly he meant by that. You attempted to distract yourself, quickly grabbing a menu and burying your face behind it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a heady mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. You had never felt like this before, and you were both thrilled and terrified by the power he seemed to hold over you without even trying. As you hid behind the menu, feigning distraction, he noticed the quickening beat of your heart and the way your body tensed. He silently chuckled to himself, finding your reaction both adorable and incredibly sexy. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze still fixed on you. Even as you attempted to shield yourself behind the menu, he could sense your excitement, your vulnerability, and the undeniable effect he had on you.

As the date progressed, his protectiveness turned into something more possessive. He found himself becoming fixated on you, noticing every little detail, from the way you played with your hair to the way you laughed at his jokes. He became increasingly possessive of your attention, not liking it when other patrons or even the server tried to interact with you. Every time someone else directed their focus toward you, he would find a way to redirect your attention back to him, whether through a subtle touch, a well-timed chuckle, or simply an intense gaze. Your unease grew as he continued to dominate the conversation and your attention, his persistent possessiveness starting to grate on your nerves. His every touch and every gesture felt controlling as if he was trying to claim you as his own. You tried to maintain your composure, but a spark of irritation flickered within you, like a match struck in the dark. Though a part of you felt a twisted attraction to this side of him, the part that craved independence and autonomy bristled under his possessive demeanor.

Despite your growing discomfort, his possessiveness flared hotter at any hint of irritation or resistance he detected. He noted the growing frustration in your eyes, and it only served to heighten his possessive nature even more. Every time you attempted to redirect the conversation or distance yourself, he found ways to pull you back in, his touch and presence dominating your senses, a wolf circling its prey. You struggled to maintain your composure, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. Anger, irritation, and a hint of fear twisted together, a turbulent storm within you. And yet, with each passing moment, as his possessive nature tightened its grip, you found yourself fighting the undeniable pull you felt towards him, the strange and forbidden desire to be claimed by him. It was as if there was a part of you that craved to give in, to be possessed and controlled, but your self-preservation instinct fought back, a battle waging between your heart and your mind.

He could sense the internal struggle you were going through, the war between your rational mind and the twisted desires he had awakened within you. Each time you resisted, each time you attempted to pull away, the possessiveness within him flared hotter, his need to dominate and claim you growing stronger with every passing second.

He continued to assert his control over the conversation, every touch and glance sending a silent message, a warning that you were his, and he was not letting go. "Wanna go back to my place for drinks?" Despite your conflicted emotions, a shiver ran down your spine at his suggestion. You tried to remain composed, but his possessive tone and the promise of a private place sent another shiver of anticipation through you. The rational part of you screamed to say no, to break free from his hold and just say goodnight after paying your own way, but the strange and forbidden desires within you whispered that you didn't truly want to resist. You found yourself torn, but the words that left your lips were not the ones you had intended. "Yes," you heard yourself say, your voice surprisingly meek and yielding.

As the word "yes" left your lips, his eyes darkened with a mixture of triumph and satisfaction. He knew he had won; your resistance had crumbled, and you were now his to possess. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he leaned in closer. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You have no idea how long I've been craving you." He quickly settled the bill before standing and coming around your side of the table, holding out his hand to help you out of your chair and put your coat back on. You couldn't believe you had given in so easily, yet a part of you was strangely excited by the control he had over you. You placed your trembling hand in his, a rush of both fear and anticipation coursing through you. His touch was both gentle and firm, a reminder of his power over you. As he led you out of the restaurant, his possessive grip on your hand sent a clear signal to anyone watching that you were his and his alone.

He walked side by side with you, your hand firmly in his grasp. Every step he took was calculated, every passing patron or restaurant staff member received a cold glare, a warning to keep their distance. As he led you to his car, he opened the passenger side door and ushered you in, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. Once you were seated inside, he closed the door and rounded the vehicle, getting in behind the wheel and starting the engine. The drive to his place was a tense and quiet journey. He kept a firm grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the road. Every now and then, he would glance at you, his gaze roaming over your body, his possessiveness growing with every passing second. Finally, he pulled the car into the driveway of a secluded house, turning off the engine and turning to look at you. "We're here," he said quietly, his voice low and seductive. The silence in the car was thick with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze on you, a physical sensation that made your skin tingle and your heart race. As the car pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, you swallowed, your mouth dry. The seclusion of the house, coupled with his possessive aura, made your pulse quicken, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. You met his gaze, his low and seductive tone sending a shiver down your spine. You knew you were stepping into the lion's den.

He watched you closely, his eyes raking down your body as if memorizing every curve. He undid his seatbelt and exited the car, making his way around to your side of the car to open the door for you. Once you were out of the car, he slammed the car door shut and placed a possessive hand on your lower back, steering you toward the front door. As you both walked up the porch steps, he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to enter first. He stood close behind you, his hand resting on the small of your back. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, his hand on the small of your back a constant presence, a silent claim on you. As you stepped inside, you were immediately struck by the lavishness of his home. The furnishings were expensive and tasteful, but there were also subtle hints of his dominant personality scattered throughout the space. Your heart raced in your chest, the knowledge that you were now completely at his mercy settling heavily in the pit of your stomach.

He closed the door behind you, locking it without even taking his gaze off of you. He led you deeper into the house, his hand still pressing possessively against your back. As you took in the elegant furnishings and subtle hints of his power, his eyes raked over you, his gaze almost predatory. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, gesturing toward the plush leather sofa in the living room before moving to the bar on the far wall. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes darting around nervously before moving toward the black leather sofa. You perched yourself on the edge, your fingers tracing over the smooth material of the seat. Your senses were on high alert, and every sound and movement was magnified in the quiet house. Watching him stride confidently towards the bar, you couldn't help but notice how he seemed to move like a predator stalking prey. The possessiveness in his gaze lingered on you, and you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry causing you to look away from him. He noticed the way you perched on the edge of the sofa, your fingers dancing nervously over the black leather. He could feel the tension and fear rolling off you in waves, and it made him crave you even more. With a slow, methodical grace, he turned and began preparing drinks at the bar. He picked out expensive liquor and expertly mixed two drinks, his movements smooth and deliberate.

He cast another glance at you across the room, his eyes roving over you with a mixture of possessiveness and satisfaction. "You look so nervous," he purred, his voice like honey. He continued to carefully mix the drinks, his gaze flickering to you every few seconds, taking in the sight of you perched on the edge of the sofa. A wicked idea formed in his mind, and a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reached for something behind the bar. With a subtle movement, he poured an unknown powder into one of the drinks, stirring it in with a stirrer before setting it on the bar. You watched him mix the drinks with an expert hand, admiring his skills as he prepared the expensive liquor. His confident movements drew your gaze, and you studied him closely, his every gesture sending a new wave of both nervousness and excitement through you. He glanced at you over his shoulder, his gaze locking with yours. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he set the drinks on the bar, and he began to make his way back to you, carrying a glass in each hand.

He strode across the room with a casual grace, the dark drinks clutched firmly in his hands. He came to a stop beside you, holding out a glass toward you. "Here," he said, his voice nonchalant as if he hadn't just laced your drink with an unknown powder. You took the offered glass from him, the cool surface chilling your trembling fingers. You glanced up at him, his nonchalant expression giving no hint of his earlier possessive demeanor. You couldn't help but wonder what he had put in the drink, but you pushed the thought away, raising the drink to your lips for a sip. He watched intently as you took a sip of the drink, his gaze fixed on your lips as they touched the glass. His eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation, knowing that the drug he had put in your drink would soon take effect. He took a sip of his own drink, his expression calm and collected, disguising the excitement churning inside him. You took a small sip of the drink, bracing yourself for the strong taste of alcohol. Instead, the liquid was smooth and almost sweet, a subtle hint of something else dancing on your tongue. You swallowed, the warm liquid gliding down your throat, leaving a slight tingle in its wake.

The liquid slid smoothly down your throat, the alcohol warming your chest as you swallowed. You glanced at him, noticing the way his gaze followed the movement of your lips. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension as you took another sip, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease that had settled in your stomach. You looked up at him, trying to maintain a composed expression, but you felt a slight dizzying sensation beginning to set in. He watched as the drug started to take hold, seeing the confusion clouding your features before it gave way to a drowsy bliss. He stood up from his chair, moving closer to you, his movements deliberate and slow. "It's going to make you feel really good," he said, his voice low and soothing. As he reached out, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The world was becoming hazy, the edges of your vision blurring slightly as the drug coursed through your system. You felt a warm, pleasant numbness spreading through your limbs, and your mind was growing fuzzy as if swathed in a heavy fog. The touch of his fingers against yours sent a sharp shiver through you, and your body instinctively responded to his proximity, your chest heaving with a sudden rush of breath.

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. His hand slid up your arm, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, sending tingles racing across your flesh. He tilted your head back, exposing your neck, and pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive skin there, his tongue darting out to taste you. Your mind was struggling to keep up with the situation, your thoughts slow and disoriented. But your body, despite the drowsiness, instinctively responded to his touch, the heat of his breath against your skin a heady sensation. As he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your exposed neck, a soft gasp escaped your lips, your body arching involuntarily toward his. The feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin sent a jolt of electricity through you, awakening sensations you didn't know existed. He could smell the intoxicating scent of your arousal, the muskier notes of your fear and desire blending together in an alluring perfume. His hands moved to your shoulders, pushing your jacket off them, revealing the delicate skin beneath. His thumbs traced circles on your bare skin, watching as goosebumps rose in their wake. He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark and intense, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own.

The drug was making you feel floaty, your body heavy and warm. You could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling with every touch of his fingers. You looked up into his eyes, the dark need you saw there igniting the desire within you. As he pushed your jacket off your shoulders, the sensation of his thumbs tracing circles on your bare skin sent a shudder through you. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, exposed in his presence. He slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close against his hard body. You could feel the strength and power radiating off him, mixed with a predatory intent that made your heart race. He lowered his mouth to yours, capturing your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring the wet warmth, tasting every inch of you. He gripped your hips tightly, pressing you even closer, letting you fully experience the hardness of his arousal against your belly.

Despite the intoxication of the drug, a part of you felt like prey caught in the jaws of a predator. His strength was evident as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his solid frame. His possessive kiss took your breath away, his tongue claiming your mouth with an almost primal hunger. You let out a small gasp as he pulled you even closer, your body reacting involuntarily to the hardness of his arousal pressed against your stomach. Your mind was hazy, your body responding automatically to his touch, the line between resistance and surrender becoming increasingly blurred. He tore his mouth from yours, his breathing ragged as he gazed down at you with smoldering intensity. "I'm going to fuck you now," he growled, his voice rough with lust. Without waiting for a response, he swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bedroom, kicking open the door with a bang. He tossed you onto the bed, crawling over you with a predatory grace. His hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes, baring your skin to his hungry gaze. "So beautiful," he rasped, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "I can't wait to be inside you."

You lay there, stunned and helpless, as he stripped you bare with an urgency that left no room for gentleness. The cool air of the room caressed your exposed skin, making you acutely aware of his heated gaze roaming over every curve and valley. His words, spoken with such raw desire, sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to his promise despite the lingering threads of consciousness fighting to remain alert. As he loomed over you, his muscular form blocking out the light, you felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. This was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. All you could do was submit to the inevitable, to let him claim you as he saw fit. And yet, some deep, primal part of you craved this domination, yearned to be conquered by his unbridled passion. He stood back for a moment, taking in the sight of your naked form laid out before him. There was a wildness in his eyes, a feral hunger that promised pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He quickly shed his own clothing, revealing his powerful physique, his muscles rippling with each movement. He crawled back onto the bed, positioning himself between your spread thighs. He grasped your hips firmly, lifting them to meet his thrust, and then he plunged into you, filling you completely in one swift motion. A guttural moan escaped his lips as he began to move, setting a rhythm that was both brutal and exquisite.

The sensation of being filled so completely stretched to accommodate his large size sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Each thrust was a blend of agony and ecstasy, his dominance over your body undeniable. You cried out, the sound torn from your throat as he pounded into you relentlessly, his grip on your hips unforgiving. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that would serve as reminders of this encounter long after it was over. The haze of the drug and the overwhelming physicality of the act left you teetering on the edge of consciousness, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of his possession. He reveled in your cries, the sounds spurring him on as he drove into you again and again. The tight, slick heat of your body was pure heaven, gripping him like a velvet vise. He could feel your nails raking down his back, marking him as surely as he was marking you. He wanted more, needed more - he wanted to consume you utterly, to brand himself upon your very soul. One hand released its bruising hold on your hip to slide up your body, cupping your breast roughly, pinching and rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers. His mouth found yours once more, swallowing your moans as he plundered your depths with ruthless precision. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in his groin, threatening to snap at any moment. He knew you were close too, could feel your inner walls fluttering around him, drawing him deeper still.

Your entire being focused on the sensation of his cock driving into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His mouth on yours, his hand on your breast, it was all too much, overwhelming your senses. The coil of tension building within you reached its peak, and with a cry muffled by his kiss, you came undone, your climax ripping through you with a ferocity that left you trembling and spent. The spasms of your pussy clenching around him only served to push him over the edge, his own release following closely behind yours, hot and potent, filling you with his essence. The feeling of your orgasm triggered his own, his body tensing as he poured himself into you, his seed flooding your womb. He rode out the waves of his climax, his thrusts slowing but not stopping until every last drop had been spilled. He collapsed atop you, his weight a comforting pressure against your sensitive flesh. He rested his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his chest heaving with exertion. His eyes locked onto yours, the usual darkness replaced by something softer, more tender. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction and ownership.

As he collapses on top of you, his weight grounding you amidst the aftermath of the storm of sensations, you struggle to catch your breath. His murmur, low and possessive, sends another tremor through your already sensitized body. You manage a weak nod, acknowledging his claim without voicing it aloud. His softening member slips from your drenched folds, leaving a trail of evidence of your coupling. You reach up, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from his face, your touch gentle compared to the violence of moments ago. "Yes," you whisper, your voice barely above a sigh. He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a look of satisfaction mingled with affection. "You're amazing," he says, his voice still laced with the remnants of his lustful fervor. He rolls off you, lying beside you rather than hovering above, allowing you space to breathe and recover. He pulls you against his side, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking you close against his body. His hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed wide, claiming you just as surely as if he'd branded you. "Rest now," he whispers, his tone soft but firm.

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours as you bask in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. His strong arm around you provides a sense of security and comfort, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity of his advances. As exhaustion begins to set in, you let yourself drift, lulled by the steady beat of his heart and the soothing rhythm of his breath. Your eyelids grow heavy, and soon you succumb to sleep, safe in the knowledge that you belong to him, body and soul. In this moment, there is nowhere else you'd rather be than entwined with your Hellspawn, lost in the blissful oblivion of slumber.

[dailycrippledcharacters]

Jeremy Simmons (Community)

[Image Description: Jeremy, a young white man, sits in a motorized wheelchair. He is wearing glasses and a school uniform composed of tan pants, a blue shirt, a blue and green striped tie, and a blazer with a green crest on it. His hair is short and brown and he has a soul patch. In the background of the photo is a table with multiple people in similar attire sitting there. A sign on one portion of the table, partially visible, reads 'Debate Team' and, in smaller text, 'champions'. Behind the tables are gym bleachers folded up. End ID.]

Jeremy is a wheelchair user with an unspecified disability.

[tempest-toss]

The Call - Beginning

Being an Insurgent was difficult. Every day as a grunt was a day on the chopping block. Depending on your station you could be used as fodder or sent on a "rescue" mission to liberate those contained from the Foundation. Those lucky enough to survive this long earned something truly rare: Vacation.

Thorn Thomas was a beta operative, and after years of saving, decided to cash in all of their vacation days at once, giving them two full weeks of time off. They had found a quaint little camp site near a verdant forest, and set off to stay there, especially when they heard the price for staying was more than 80% off.

After a few days of peace and quiet, several more campers had arrived. While Thorn was irritated that they couldn't enjoy peace alone, they begrudgingly became used to it, mostly spying from their camper to gather any intel that might betray them as Foundation scum.

The first to arrive was a conservative family, consisting of husband Gordon Muntz, wife Trudy Muntz, and their "daughter", which was their dog named Rockette. Yes, spelled exactly like that. Thorn realized early on that Trudy and Gordon were quite conservative, both showing displeasure at some of the bumper stickers Thorn had. At least Rockette was a kind soul.

A Winnebago in rainbow colors showed up next, bringing floral spice to the camp. A stoner named Marvin Viscontti was one of them, often clad in an oversized sweatshirt, red beanie, and often found with a blunt in his mouth that reeked of SCP-420-j, The Super Weed. He mostly stayed inside, but always joined his buddy for outdoor dinner.. The other member was a hippie by the name of Dallas Richter. Wearing tie dye head band, oversized poncho and shirt, and even tie-dye sandals, he was the epitome of flower child attire, complete with a peace sign ear pierces and red tinted glasses. He was one of the few Thorn got along with, as he was relaxed about everything, and would wake up the whole camp to some morning Hand Pan music.

Next to arrive was another duo, a photographer and a cook. Both were somewhat viral stars online, with Norman Fotoparat posting his pictures online and Cassidy Rakoto posting her food cooking videos and tutorials to thousands of hungry viewers. Both announced an indefinite from their work, performing an internet detox involving deactivating accounts after they felt their art was deteriorating in quality that they could produce.

In rapid succession a slew of "nature freaks" (according to Trudy) joined the campsite, bringing with them several trailers, campers, and tents.

A trio arriving together were the explorers and the hiker. The explorers were a lesbian couple, Della and Natasha Lawrence, freshly married and eager to explore some ruins nearby the campsite. The hiker, Slyvester Reid, was just a close friend known for playing matchmaker and helping the two fall in love. He spent every day hiking the different forest trails of the woods. Trudy complained about the three of them, the Lawrences for their lifestyle, and Slyvester because he hiked without a shirt.

Also interested in the ruins as well as the river that connected it to the campsite was an archaeologist, fisherwoman, and a gold panner. The gold panner, Cindy Simmons, was an odd case. Her interactions with Thorn left the impression that she was an uptight valley girl, yet she was standing int the river, scooping dirt and laughing whenever she'd accidentally trip and fall into the river. She became close to the archaeologist Sable Proctor after she helped fight an artifact remnant through panning. Sable was one of the few campers rarely seen, as she spent most of her time in the ruins or in her camper, taking deep care of her discovered relics. Her only time of a more public interaction was when she helped Cassidy cook some trout. Penelope Lordes was the queen of the river, showing off her angler skills, providing an ample supply for Cassidy to cook with. When not rambliing on the "aquatic beauties" that swam in the river, she often gushed about her daughter. This made her close friends with Cindy and Sable, as they all had children attending Brunshire Academy. Thorn remembered that place; they were supposed to lead a mission to kidnap students, but were persuaded not to by hidden anti-personnel guns hidden in the academy's face.

Nobody knew when Silky Cooper showed up. The quiet geocacher appeared in camp one day, setting up a small tent on the outskirts of the encampment. She never spoke a word, only gesturing, nodding or shaking her head, or using whatever she was holding for emphasis. Thorn only learned her name because Cindy knew her. Silky's arrival caused Gordon to make a rude remark about preferring women who were meek and obedient liker her. The next day his truck's tires were slashed and there was cat poop found on his pillow. No one knows how it happened, but Dallas and Marvin looked quite pleased with themselves.

The last to arrive was an ice cream truck, carrying a tired man by the name of Chip Gelato. A natural loner, he often kept to himself, joining the others but not interjecting himself into any conversations. In fact, he seemed a bit ill, often holding an ice pack on his forehead most times Thorn saw them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was supposed to be another day in a foresty paradise for Thorn.

Then the call came in. It wasn't a verbal call, but a set of beeps. Morse Code, specifically spelling out S-O-S. This was confusing to Thorn, as the radio was meant for short distances, but there was no Insurgency outposts for miles. Thorn picked up the transmitter and checked it. Two potential spikes, one from the forest and the other from the ruins. One of these had to be whatever this distress call is coming from.

Thorn thought about it some more, realizing that this could be dangerous. Maybe they should grab a camper for back-up? Or would they be dead weight? Thorn thought these possibilities before making a plan

[sobbinghorses]

RvB characters as equestrians!!

Church: Dressage snob 100%. Every single show him and his horse are getting massages. His horse gets chiro every few months or so. Man is decked out in Halter Ego with every color of the rainbow in Equestrian Stockholm saddle pads and jackets. Loves matchy matchy outfits but will deny it when anyone asks. Owns a flashy warmblood and will complain if a thoroughbred scores higher than him.

Tex: Eventers scare me a little so that’s what Tex is. She rides a batshit chestnut mare that will only listen to her. Absolutely loves the thrill of jumping. Probably refers to the mare as her dragon.

Tucker: Western. Probably owns a nice little bay quarter horse gelding. Loves loves loves dressing up all nice and flashy for western. Thinks that the chaps and cowboy hat makes him look hot. They do.

Caboose: He is the hardest one to decide. Maybe he’s got an Australian saddle and just does whatever? Whatever the discipline is him and his horse would be connected on a very deep level. Works really well with mares because he understands that with them you must ask, and not tell.

Wash: I might just be biased but I feel he would have been a big dressage rider when younger. At the very least has his bronze. As he got older he moved out of competition and focused more on trail riding and relaxing. I feel like he’s the type of guy to be like those horse girls you see on Instagram reels that buy sick horses from auctions/slaughter houses and rehabilitates them.

Kai: Speed Queen!! My girl is whipping around those barrels so fast you can barely see her. Definitely rides a paint mare. She’s always the flashiest rider there.

Sarge: Rodeo, specifically roping. Big quarter horse fan. Him and Church probably bitch at each other all the time about horse breeds.

Grif: My first instinct was western, but I imagine he’s probably strictly a trail rider. Doesn’t care for competition, just likes to amble around the forest with a bomb proof horse.

Simmons: Most horses take advantage of his lack of confidence so he’s pretty much an unofficial red team groom. Maybe leases an older gelding so he can trail ride with Grif.

Donut: Started out with western because he liked the attire but it was too slow for him. Kai got him into speed. Loves palominos.

Lopez: Western! Maybe a bronc rider?

Carolina: Absolutely hunter jumper. Owns a big Warmblood or Oldenburg or something along those lines. You almost never see her knock down a jump. Makes everything look effortless.

Doc: Jack of all trades. Has probably done a bunch of different disciplines and leased a bunch of different horses. Tells everyone he’s looking for his heart horse.

[tvfavorites]

Richard Simmons Was Laid To Rest Wearing His Iconic Workout Attire, Brother Says

It looks like Richard Simmons is going to be sweatin’ to the oldies for eternity. On Saturday, Lenny Simmons, brother of the late fitness guru, told people attending Simmons’ celebration-of-life ceremony a “little secret” about how the star was laid to rest wearing his famous exercise ensemble under a more formal outfit. “Just like Clark Kent, underneath his beautiful things that he was…

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.  Welcome to the weekend!

Wow!  Here we are again: Friday!  Where did that week go?  No, seriously, where did that week go?

I spent much of my childhood and teenage years in North London but I never visited Highgate Cemetery.  Maybe, back then, it wouldn’t have meant much to me?  Now, I can appreciate it.  More a mystical, magical forest than a graveyard.  From the accents around us, visitors had come from all around the world and, for many, this is one of the reasons to come to London  

Yesterday, me and old family friend Evan Alboum spent a few hours there.  As it happens, when he was young and living in London, he visited there often.

It’s quite a remarkable place.  Graves of every shape and size, ostentatious graves, humble, modest graves, stylish graves, catacombs and mausoleums and, as you may or may not know, lots of talented people are buried there: Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou (better known as George Michael), musician Bert Jansch, actress Jean Simmons, actors Bob Hoskins, Ian Holm, Alan Howard and Roger Lloyd-Pack, footballer Ugo Ehiogu, painter Lucian Freud, writers Douglas Adams, George Eliot, Stella Gibbons, Alan Sillitoe, Anthony Shaffer, Peter Shaffer, Andrea Levy and Beryl Bainbridge, artist manager Malcolm McLaren, comedian Max Wall, noted academic Stuart Hall and, of course, political philosopher Karl Marx.  Well worth a visit! 

Hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’.  The Letter A (Pt. 6).  No executive producer, just me playing with myself.  No more executive producers until The Letter B (Pt. 1).

Straight after the show, I’ll be jumping on a train and heading to The White Lion on Streatham High Road.  Looking forward to spinning tunes with my brother Shaq D.     

Have a fabulous & funky Friday!  I love you all.  You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

[cyarsk52-20]

Aoki Lee Simmons Says She ‘Hates’ Keke Palmer’s Boyfriend: ‘I Pray & Plot On His Downfall’

Xaviera BryantJuly 6, 2023

Instagram

Aoki Lee Simmons is back in the headlines – this time over her strong opinions of Keke Palmer’s boyfriend Darius Jackson.

Kimora Lee Simmons and Russell Simmons’ 20-year-old daughter took to TikTok to get a few things off of her chest about Keke’s man publicly criticizing her attire when she attended Usher’s concert in Las Vegas.

In the video, Aoki said: 

I just want to say I don’t know Keke Palmer’s boyfriend…

I don’t know anything about him really besides the current thang…

But, let me just say…I hate that man!

I pray and plot on his downfall. I hate him!

I’m disgusted.

Aoki didn’t stop there. 

She went on to add, “I would love the chance to like punch that —!”

You can watch the clips here.

It was just two weeks ago that Aoki Lee Simmons and her mother were in the streets of social media dragging her father for his alleged abusive and bullying behavior. 

Now, she’s online praying for Darius’ downfall and the opportunity to punch him, a perfect stranger, in the face.

Why did Aoki Lee say she hate Keke man like her daddy ain’t Russell Simmons. Baby you got a lot more fish to fry before you try to eat up somebody man who gonna get ate up tonight— CandleGirl (@MsAndiMack) July 7, 2023

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far…

Let me know your thoughts on Aoki Lee Simmons in the comments below or join the convo on our socials. (Facebook, Instagram)

Sent from my iPhone

[regardingluxury]

Winter Outfits Stylish Winter Attire & Attire For Women

Mariam Simmons is a fashion fanatic and Content Manager at Alpine Swiss. She loves traveling to the world’s top trendy destinations and gets impressed to create useful fashion and way-of-life guides. With over a decade of writing experience, her main objective in creating content is to make street style men sure readers be taught something useful and provide worth as an alternative to noise. This season, I’m in love with these beautiful Sézane Marino trousers in navy blue and this très chic Nili Lotan Abella high-rise pleated wool trousers. Keep scrolling to see and shop the ten French fashion staples you need in your wardrobe this winter.

Wide-leg denim is back in and they're trendier than ever! I love great wide-leg jeans with some boots, it’s a brilliant cute look. So if you’re happening an espresso date or one thing like that then this outfit is ideal. Add a little bit of sexy, flirty enjoyment to your winter outfits with a pair of black thigh-high men's winter outfits boots. Winter offers a superb opportunity for men to decorate their hearts. With so many types and choices to select from, selecting one explicit style is often a bit troublesome.

Hitting Aspen or perhaps nighttime out in Denver is certainly one of Hoohah’s stylish snowsuits or beanies is the important thing to bringing a brilliant vibe to a simple outfit. A color-block scarf is a must to add to a winter wardrobe. This one will hold you cozy and adds a little bit of enjoyment to these days crammed with snow.

Today many down vests are made thin and sleek and could be worn underneath a go well in a knowledgeable setting. At one time, men's sneakers had been unapologetically informal but now you ought to buy dress sneakers designed to be worn with a suit, chinos, and denim. Its athletic pedigree makes the button-down a fantastic casual various street style mens fashion to the normal men's gown shirt. You can even use the Henley shirt over a button-down shirt as a great casual difference to wearing a sweater over a dress shirt. For the second outfit, this sage trench welcomes a brand new color that I love for spring. Sage is such an excellent shade to put on and I love it with all my denim.

Ditto for a classic B-3 bomber jacket paired with a chunky turtleneck, white denim, and some suede chukkas. Just as an outcome of its winter doesn’t mean you can’t nonetheless select horny pieces that show slight skin! I’m loving this off-the-shoulder sweater, which is enjoyable and flirty. Style it together with your favourite pair of high-waist denim.

Most guys have loads of inside layers and outer layers, but the crucial center layer is usually missed. My current favorite reasonably priced middle layer is the J. Crew Factory Walker vest. Great price range quilted vest that's winter outfits perfect for layering in colder temperatures. If you have thick, loose, and/or bulky items beneath layers that are slimmer, thinner, or extra lightweight… that might be really uncomfortable.

[ao3feed-fitzsimmons]

The One-Night Stand Before Christmas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/7sRWV1O

by AgentOfShip

Fitz has come to enjoy being a lumberjack. The problem is that it's about the only thing he loves about living in the small Scottish village of Ballindalloch. He can't stand most of the people there with their tendency to put their noses in other people's business and their love of terrible Christmas shows. So he decides to take an extended holiday in New York for his best friend's wedding.

Jemma loves everything about her life in New York: her friends, the museums, the theatre and, of course, being the very successful CEO of her own company. The only thing missing in her life lately is, well, a sex life.

Enter Fitz. He wears flanel more provocatively than any man has the right to, he's sweet, cute, Scottish and he's leaving in two weeks. It's the perfect little holiday fling she needed. And surely, two weeks is too short a time for feelings to arise, right?

A reverse-Hallmark AU where people have sex, love the city and wear their scarves the right way!

Words: 3519, Chapters: 1/9, Language: English

Fandoms: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons

Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons

Additional Tags: Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, except it's reverse hallmark, Explicit Sexual Content, like lots of explicit sexual content, people wearing proper winter attire, lumberjack Fitz, boss lady Jemma, Strangers to Lovers, One Night Stands, New York City, Small Towns, are not always so magical

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/7sRWV1O

[jemmaagentofshield]

With that, she retreated back the way she came, taking the time to go through the lab and check on her latest experiments. As she moves back toward where her bunk is, leaving the lab, she runs straight into Grant Ward just outside.

"Oh goodness, I didn't know anyone else was up," she exclaimed, stepping back and clutching her chest, obviously surprised. "Neither did I, Agent Simmons," he replied but she could see when his eyes flicked over her attire. "Just checking a few things before bed, see you in the morning Agent Ward," she replied before scurrying past him. Something about him gave her the creeps.

"And your pragmatic side is sexy right back," Phil observed as he put his hands on her hips to help her.

[the-raven-who-writes]

Medieval Adventures - A Tale of Kingdoms and Knights (Volume 1) Masterlist

Summary: So let’s say that a girl who writes stories wanted to visit one. And she ends up staying in it since she liked it. She makes friends, enemies, and learns more about herself from the surroundings she made. Oh, and she becomes a knight. Females aren’t that common, so why not be a male?

Prolog

Chapter 1: The Nimble Hawk’s Tavern and Inn

Chapter 2: A friendly soul or four

Chapter 3: Back to modern society

Chapter 4: Simmons the seamstress

(Edit: this story is under MAJOR reworking. will not be updated till then.)

[achirding]

Exercise! 

Okay, now, boys, reach up high to the sky and leaaaaan! And One! Two! One! Two!

[rock-and-roll-hell]

August 29, 1976

Destroyer Tour

Atlanta Fulton County Stadium - Atlanta, Georgia

📸 Tom Hill

The paper mache cats from Peter's drum were stolen during load out.

"If you're a rock and roll fanatic, then the low point of your summer was the so-called Summer Starburst concert featuring KISS, Blue Oyster Cult, and Johnny and Edgar Winter, at the Braves Stadium on August 29. Technical problems, poor sound reproduction, unending waits between groups, and an unruly crowd ruined what could have been an excellent outdoor show... The headliners for the show, KISS, leaped onstage after another tedious wait to bombs bursting, giant flames, and lots of smoke. Attired in their standard black leather and makeup, KISS put on a show of high-energy noise that thrilled everyone under sixteen and offended those who know anything about rock and music in general. Any veteran rock fan would note with distaste guitarist Paul Stanley's attempts at Peter Townshend-type leaps and would simply yawn at bassist Gene Simmons' blood spitting routine. Their entire set showed no redeeming social value whatsoever" (GA Institute of Technology - The Technique, 9/24/76).