Dark Desire And Tainted Bliss

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Betty White and a bear stop what you’re doing and reblog

Betty White: First Lady of Television (Netflix)

Too Sweet - Jschlatt

Part 3

Masterlist

Reader is a math teacher who finds her computer science teacher coworker an asshole. Schlatt finds his algebra/geometry coworker very annoying. What happens when they are forced to be around each other and get along?

You see a text message alerting you that Ted is outside your apartment, waiting on you. You grab your purse and make your way to his Tacoma. When you open the passenger side door, Ted smiles at you. “You are full of school spirit,” he says, looking at your outfit.

You decided to wear a t- shirt with your school mascot and corduroy pants of your school color. You also have a pretty headband and earrings to match. “We are going to a game. I am showing my support. Also I wore this to school,” you tell him.

“Well I didn’t see you at school today.” Ted gives you a slight disappointing look.

“I had a lot to catch up on before the weekend started.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

“It had nothing to do with our recent lunch guest?” Ted asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope definitely not,” you say.

Ted just rolls his eyes at you. After a few minutes, you arrive at the baseball fields. You both make your way to the gate. “Hello Ms. (Y/L/N) and Mr Nivision. You don't have to pay since you’re both teachers,” Daisy, a past student of yours, tells you.

You both thank her and walk inside. You make your way to the stands taking a seat towards the back. You look out and see Schlatt throwing a ball to a few players in the outfield. You find it annoying how good he looks. His muscular arms flex with each throw. His thick thighs are even more noticeable in the baseball pants he has to wear.

“I’m going to get some popcorn. Do you want anything?” You ask Ted. You decide that you need a distraction and the concession stand sounds like the best option.

“Sure. Popcorn sounds good. Do you want me to go with you?” Ted asks. He hands you a few dollars.

“No, I'll be right back. Also keep your money, I got it.”

Ted smiles at you as he puts his money back. You make your way over to the concession stand. While you wait in line, you see Schlatt go behind the concession stand and grab an orange Gatorade. When it is your time to go up, Schlatt’s attention turns towards you. “Oh hey (Y/N), didn’t think you were actually going to show up. Is Ted here?” he asks you, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah we carpooled,” you tell him. You turn to the parent volunteering, “Can I get two popcorns?”

“That will be three dollars,” she tells you.

You pull the money from your purse and give it to the woman, but Schlatt stops you. “Just put it on my tab, Jennifer. She’s a friend of mine.” The word friend threw you off, but maybe he is just saying it for Ted. It is obvious that one of the popcorns is for him.

Jennifer gets up to grab the popcorn. “It’s three dollars. You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for myself,” you tell him.

“Exactly, It's only three dollars. I’m the coach. I can get whatever I want.” Of course he is going to make this a thing. Instead of arguing, you just let it slide. Schlatt leaves soon after since the game is about to start.

Jennifer returns with your popcorn bags. You thank her and go back to Ted. He takes a bite as soon as you hand him the bag.

You both watch the game, enjoying your popcorn. You are quite impressed with how well the boys are playing. You don’t really understand baseball, but it’s obvious they are doing well based on the score.

Schlatt seems to be happy with their performance as well. You notice his smile as he pats Sawyer on the back when he gets a run. You think his smile is quite nice and you wish you could see it more often. You want to slap yourself for those thoughts. You knew they would only cause you more trouble.

By the eighth inning, you and Ted are fully invested in the game. The score is currently tied with both teams having two runs each. Right now there are two outs and two strikes. There is also a player on third and one of first. As soon as the pitch is thrown, Joshua hits it towards the outfield. He runs towards first at the same time the right fielder throws the ball in. The ump calls it an out. Schlatt comes out of the dug out obviously fuming by the bad call.

“What the fuck was that? He was safe!” Schlatt yells at the umpire.

“Cool it coach or else you’re out of here. First got to him before he ran past,” the ump tells him.

Schlatt groans, storming back. You can’t hear what he is telling his players, but you know he’s pissed.

You and Ted give each other a look, not sure what to do or how to react. You both just watch the game.

The game ends soon after with the opposing team winning by one run. Even though you are ready to go home, Ted tells you that he told Schlatt he would wait on him. You really don’t feel like waiting on Schlatt especially since he is probably not in a good mood.

“Are you hungry? Schlatt mentioned a pizza place we could try,” Ted suggests.

“I could eat,” you tell him. “Do you know how long he will be?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not like we have anything better to do than wait.”

You notice a few players leaving and they all look fed up. After about 30 minutes, Schlatt walks out of the locker room, fully changed. “You guys didn’t have to wait on me. You should have just gone home,” Schlatt tells you both.

“It’s no worries. I am treating you to pizza. You deserve it after tonight,” Ted tells him.

Schlatt gives him a small smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry this is the game you came to. We usually play better than that.”

“The boys did great. Just a few bad calls. I’m glad we came out,” you tell him. Even though the game didn’t go as well as Schlatt would have liked, you are glad you were able to watch.

The three of you make your way to the pizza place to enjoy a meal. The conversation is going quite well. “How long have you two been together?” Schlatt asks.

You choke on your drink while Ted starts laughing. “As much as I love (Y/N), we are just friends,” Ted explains.

Schlatt looks at you both, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were a couple. A few students had said something about it,” Schlatt admits.

“And you trusted them?” You ask with a slight laugh. “Theatre guys aren’t really my type.”

Ted sticks his tongue at you. “Well Math nerds aren’t my type.”

“Math nerds aren’t too bad. Especially when they dress up for every occasion,” Schlatt says, looking directly at you.

You feel yourself start to blush. Is he flirting with you? Why was he not being an ass? Was he waiting until he knew you were single? It all seemed strange, but you weren’t going to complain.

The rest of the night goes quite well. The three of you talk and laugh like you have been friends for years. You feel like things between you and Schlatt are starting to look up. You hope that it continues that way because as much as you hate to admit it, you enjoy Schlatt’s company as well as his stupidly good looking face.

A/N: things are finally happening (sort of)! I’m not sure how I feel about this story… maybe I can make it better and more exciting but I’m not sure. Anyways let me know what you think. I’ll be answering some of my reqs soon as well.

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

you. cannot. be. a. gvf. stan. unless. you. support. and/or. stan. danny. fucking. wagner.

you are killing me with these little thoughts AHHHHHH 😭😭😭

No but there's a part in the new video where he's leaning against a railing at like a stoplight or something sipping at a coke and just imagine you were walking with him but then fell behind because boy were you out of shape for Japan and your turn the corner huffing and puffing and he's just leaning there.

"There ya are. Been waiting for like hours, toots."

"Fuck you and your goddamn redwood legs. You take four steps and you're a mile ahead."

I'd say spider legs but our boys thicc and has the tree trunkiest legs I've ever seen

reblog if you support unabashedly smutty fanfic

and the beautiful authors who give it to us.  you are a treasure. 

for newyears i wish u all love sex and rock and roll

The necklace !!!

The veins on his hand !

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Jon Bernthal attends a special screening of King Richard in London on Nov.18, 2021

need that

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror. Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him. He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?” You blinked, realising you’d been staring. Or You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, confessions, pining, yearning, all hours are yearning hours for reader

WC: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you @fire-joestar for this request and idea! I have another one for Bob with the same concept coming out at some point. Hope you all enjoy it!

☆☆☆

You wanted John Walker so bad that it was becoming a problem. Friends weren’t supposed to be crazy in love with other friends, but here you were, heart racing every time he so much as looked your way.

It came to the point where he’d be standing still, and you’d just be absolutely losing your mind. The way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirts, it was enough to short-circuit your brain.

Like when he caught you staring and started talking to you about his guns, “This one is pretty good for close-quarters. Lightweight, easy trigger…”

You nod along and pretend to pay attention, but it’s hot the way he’d handle them, all casual and confident. The way his fingers curled around the grip, the intensity in his eyes when he explained the mechanics, you’d transform into a gun right now if you could, just for the chance to be held like that.

“You still with me?” John asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you that crooked half-smile that never failed to melt your brain.

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly, even though he’d lost you as soon as you saw the veins in his hand flex around the barrel. You’re not even sure what he’s talking about anymore. Tactical specs? Firing range? Who cares. 

"Cool," he says, and goes right back to talking shop, completely unaware that you're about three seconds away from combusting.

It was an everyday occurrence. But during training, it was something else entirely. That’s when things really test your self-control.

Flipping you over like you weighed nothing during sparring sessions, he was strong and agile, all precision and power wrapped in that unfairly good-looking package. You found yourself on the mat more often than not, too distracted to fight properly. 

Not to mention listening to him talk, helping direct you on how to angle your arms, how to keep your balance and improve your fighting stance. It was so distracting the way he’d give directions, voice low and focused.

“Right foot here, and I want you to put all your weight behind it when you punch,” he’d say, tapping the mat lightly where he wanted your foot to go.

“Alright,” you murmur, trying not to sound like you're dying inside, and you try again, not quite doing as he instructed. He observes you for a moment, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. 

“Can I?” he asks, hands hovering near your hips, asking for permission, like you wouldn’t let him do pretty much anything. 

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

He moves your hips into place with a firm, steady grip that has no business being that gentle. “Now,” he continues, voice closer now, “shift forward and twist your hips, it has to be all one movement.”

He’d basically been manhandling you, guiding your arms, adjusting your hips until you were exactly where he wanted you. But still, he was gentle and patient, never getting frustrated, always calm, always in control.

And it was so unbelievably hot.

You could only imagine where else those firm instructions and steady hands would come in handy. The way he said, "twist your hips"? Yeah, you were already spiralling.

“I’ve lost you again,” John says, catching the faraway, glazed-over look on your face, one brow raised.

“No, no, I’m… I’m here,” you stammer, blinking hard and trying to pull yourself back into the moment, even though your brain had very much left the building five minutes ago. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And you’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

But you’re hopeless whether or not he’s interacting with you or not. Watching him work out in any capacity was a dangerous game. You were at risk of keeling over and dying on the spot every single time.

Watching him run on the treadmill, sweat glistening on his skin, shirt clinging to every sculpted line of muscle. Or when he boxed, the way his muscles rippled with every jab, every hook, every fluid, powerful movement. You were obsessed.

You put your head in your hands for a second, trying to cool down your spiralling thoughts, then looked back up at him.

He turned to you just then, wiping sweat from his neck with a towel, chest heaving slightly from exertion, and asked, “Did you need something?”

“N-nope,” You stutter out as you walk backwards out of the room, bumping into multiple walls, your eyes not once leaving his shirtless body. 

Though you liked the little things too.

He offers to drive you wherever you need to go, because, well, after a few incidents of reckless driving, your license had been suspended.

In your defence, it was a matter of life and death. Several times. But try explaining that you were being hunted by sword-wielding assassins and not getting laughed out of the room. 

You climb into the passenger seat, trying not to feel awkward about it. 

“Thanks…” You mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He glances over at you, mouth tugging into a faint smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, teasing just enough to make your chest flutter.

He’s quiet at first, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. The windows are down, wind in his hair, sun in his eyes. Then once you reach your destination, he does the thing. 

The thing where he puts his arm around the back of your seat as he reverses, his jawline sharp in the golden wash of afternoon light, the clean, strong line of his neck exposed beneath the collar of his shirt.

You don’t know why it has you holding your breath, but it does. Maybe it’s the casual way he does it, like he’s done it a hundred times. Or the fact that he’s so in control and completely unaware of how stupidly attractive what he’s doing is.

You’re gawking, and you know you’re gawking, but you’re only human. Gawking was your speciality, and you’re always putting yourself in situations to do it. 

Like when he’d be on cooking duty and you’d jump at the opportunity to be his unofficial sous-chef, just to be near him. You’re currently struggling with this godforsaken onion. Eyes watering, grip awkward, and the knife refusing to cooperate.

“I can do that for you,” John offers gently, taking the onion from your hands with that same ease he handled everything. “The blade’s dull, that’s why you’re having such a hard time…”

You nod, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you watch him grab the knife-sharpening rod. He starts working the blade against it with practised movements.

John Walker is an acts of service king; you noticed it early on. One time, you had barely even acknowledged that you were thirsty. There was no glass of water in front of you, you barely even sighed, but before you could even stand, John had quietly placed one in your hand without a word. 

Or when you fell asleep on the couch, and felt the weight of a blanket being placed on top of you, the warm, familiar scent of his cologne letting you know it was him. You didn’t even have to open your eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t wake you.

Just made sure you were comfortable and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. He could be loud, commanding, the centre of attention when he needed to be, but moments like that reminded you of how soft he could be when no one was looking.

You snap out of the memory, focusing back on him as he now dices the onion with mechanical precision, the knife gliding like it was an extension of his hand.

“See? Easy when your tools actually work,” he says with a half-smile, glancing your way.

You try not to swoon. Or stare. Or let him see how completely ridiculous it is that someone chopping onions could look that good. But honestly? It’s a losing battle.

A few days later, you were searching for him to get some insight on a mission you’d all be heading out on later that day.

“John?” you called out from outside his door, your knuckles tapping lightly.

“Come in!” he called back casually.

You step inside. His room was as clean and precise as you’d expect. Neatly made bed, organised, everything in its place. You glance around, not seeing him at first, but the moment you step into the bathroom, your soul threatens to leave your body. 

You’d seen him shirtless often enough that you should be used to it by now, but nope. Especially not like this. The room was steamy from the shower, and he stood there with only a towel slung low around his hips, v-line in full view, chest gleaming slightly in the light.

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror.

Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him.

He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?”

You blinked, realising you’d been staring.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Yeah, I… just came to ask about the mission.”

He turned slightly, not even trying to cover up. “Sure. Just give me a second to finish up. Unless you’re in a rush?”

You shook your head fast. “No rush. I can wait.”

So you stay there, doing your best to focus as he continues to shave.

You start going over the mission details to distract yourself, letting him know the objectives, listening to his responses, but it’s nearly impossible. 

Thankfully, the next, next mission, you sat out with Bob, spending the day chilling and playing Mario Kart with him. It was easy and a perfect distraction from the John problem, as you started dubbing it. Until the rest of the team walked back in.

They looked rough. Bruised, dirty, clearly fresh off a firefight. John was at the front, jaw tight, a few shallow cuts on his arms and a particularly nasty one near his temple that definitely needed attention, yet he still somehow looked unfairly good.

You barely had time to blink before his eyes found yours. Then he was moving, across the room, straight to where you were still curled up on the couch.

Without a word, he jerked his head toward the hallway. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, glancing at the others like someone might tell you what the hell was happening, but no one seemed surprised. With a sigh, you stood and followed him down the hall to a quiet, empty corner. Why this was his number one priority after a mission was beyond you.

“We do?” you asked, arms crossing defensively.

“You’ve been looking at me weird for a while now,” he said, tone unreadable but eyes locked on yours.

You froze. “What?”

He stepped a little closer. “You have. In the kitchen. In the gym. In my car. You stare.”

Your mouth opened but closed just as fast. How on earth would you rebut any of his claims? You doubt you had been subtle in the slightest; if someone made a compilation of you staring at John, they’d have enough footage to make a movie. 

“You’re imagining things,” you said, way too quickly.

He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Am I?”

You step back, but your back hits the wall, the space between the two of you impossibly small.

“You like me, don’t you?”

Hearing that you’re sure it’s over for you. You stand there waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You look down, unable to meet his eyes, but then his fingers are under your chin, tipping your head up gently.

“It’s okay if you do,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like me too.”

You let out a breathy laugh and swat at his chest playfully. “Asshole…”

He laughs with you, but soon his expression softens, the teasing giving way to something deeper.

“I like you too,” he says quietly.

The words hit like fireworks going off in your chest. You mean that?” You ask to which John answers genuinely, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you…” You start, heart racing, “Do you want to show me how much you like me?” you ask, voice dropping, the boldness rising in your chest before you can second-guess it.

He smirks at you, then he pulls you in, his hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile and precious. His lips meet yours gently, and you melt as you hold onto his arms. Without them, you’d be a puddle on the floor. The kiss slowly deepens, becoming more passionate, more desperate. Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him closer like it’s instinct. He groans softly at the touch, one hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, then he slots his knee between your legs and…

“No, no, no. Not outside my room,” Yelena interrupts with a sigh, “Take that somewhere private.”

Alexei is grinning like a proud dad, arms folded, nodding approvingly. Bucky is concerned about how quickly you guys started making out against the wall.

Ava just throws up her hands in relief, muttering, “Finally,” under her breath, clearly thrilled that she no longer has to witness you making heart eyes at John during every single meal, briefing, and training session.

And Bob? Bob’s smiling, warm and supportive, genuinely happy for you both… though mildly overwhelmed, like he just walked into something he isn’t entirely sure how to exit.

You groan into your hands, face burning. Yelena’s already walking away, calling over her shoulder, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner. If you two are going to be gross again, do it behind a closed door.”

John chuckles, slipping his hand into yours. “Well… you heard the lady.”

He pulls you towards his room, and the second you get inside, you shove him onto his bed, trying to peel his suit off. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” John chuckles. 

“Shut up.”

Masterlist

lewis pullman characters, and what they'd do for their first time with reader

Bob - it takes him a LONG time to get there, to make sure you and him are both comfortable, and that you both know you want this. it starts off with small touches, he would gently kiss your skin. from the crook of your neck to the inner parts of your thighs, his hands go wherever you let him - his touch his soft despite his hands being... well- big. he calls you pretty, perfect and boy does he make noises!! he is very noisy, whimpering, whining as you move your hips against his own - each little noise falls into your mouth as you kiss him, he is careful. he feels like if he "does to much" you'll wither away in his hands.

HE ALSO EATS YOU OUT CANT CJANGE MY MIND

owen - definitely back seat type of deal, or hiding in a storage closet - he purposely has this achingly slowly, and soft touch. he wants to work you up, get you hot and bothered, he knows what he was doing to you from the start, he wants to take his time hearing every each little almost pornagraphic noise that falls from your mouth "fuck- owen- oh my god-" your hands tugging on his shirt, hair - as he fucks you up against the wall, his hands over your mouth so you don't get caught, because that's unholy right? don't want to be seen like that, that would be sinful. but the way he talks into your ear about how dirty you are, how good you feel, goes right to your core. and this time definitely wouldn't be last time either, he also likes leaving hickeys in places only you two can see

rhett - you would expect him to be rough since he gives that "rough and dirty" look, but he's the complete opposite. the first time is in the bed of his truck, he has a blanket and pillows set, you are under the stars. he has you in his lap so he can see you, he is also very touchy, and lets you be loud, he loves hearing that you take so much pleasure from him, yes he treats you good, makes sure you feel good and all that but that doesn't mean he doesn't like marking you, he loves leaving hickeys, bite marks all of it. (but thats for later, he doesn't want to push you to far), he also loves kissing your skin

calvin - he holds your face, arms, sides. each touch is calculated and articulated, he goes slow, but hard. keeping his eyes on you the entire time, talking you through it, complimenting you, telling you to keep your hands on him, eyes on him. despite being an awkward fuck he likes the eye contact, watching unravel underneath him. he also definitely does it with you in his bed, he probably set it up and everything too. all cute, candles, attempting to make you a dinner, soft kisses leading up to it

THATS IT MWAH