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filmstrip2020-08-19 03:56 pm
sweatshirt) wrote in filmstrip2020-08-19 03:56 pm
Entry tags:
OPEN POST — shippy, smutty, fluffy.
SHIPPY/SMUTTY OPEN POST
| 1. pick a character. 2. leave a comment. starters or prompts are a+, just link and warn for nsfw pictures. 3. wait 84 years because i'm the worst with open posts. 4. profit. kink list is here. |
clary or izzy, i'm not picking!!
he tells members of the pack ( and other such hangers-on at the jade wolf ) that he’s cooped up, feeling antsy, and he needs to stretch his legs and feel the brisk night air on his skin. he sells it with casual disinterest while tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, then shrugging into the other one. he avoids octavia’s gaze and coincidentally finds an interesting spot on miller’s shoulder to fixate on. he’s glad that raven isn’t around; he can’t handle three people giving him knowing looks and matching smirks. humoring him with oh, uh-huhs and yeah, i’ll bets.
he considers flipping both of them the bird, showcasing the most prominent finger on each of his hands, but he doesn’t because then they’ll be winning. instead, he picks up the dregs of his beer by the neck of a lukewarm bottle and drains it, dropping it in the trash can on his way out the door. he doesn’t need their validation to fish the keys to his truck out of his pocket by the keyring or to unlock it with a press of a button. he doesn’t need their shit about it, either. when the engine roars to life, he’s grateful to thumb the dial into something that reminds him of dirt roads as opposed to the enraged but dismal rock jasper keeps permanently programmed. it’s loud enough that bellamy gets to enjoy the quietness in his head, muffled to silence by the external volume around him. so what if he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel even after he’s parked in the lot of a club he isn’t dressed for?
he leans over to do a once-over in the rearview mirror, rubbing idly at his nose and combing his fingers through his purposely effortless hairstyle. a leather jacket, black jeans, and scuffed boots go with everything, don’t they? he smacks his head back against the headrest, gaze towards the roof of the cab of his truck. what the hell, right? now or never. he throws the driver’s door open and steps out, locking it behind him.
in a narrow hallway, where he has to turn to the side to pass through throngs of people scantily clad ( and somehow still overdressed ) with the bass vibrating through the floor and up his spine, he eventually has to admit that he’s not here because he wants to be. it’s not because he craves the wild thrashing of bodies or getting lost in trance, it’s because of the boomerang that went up on a social media story. he’s here because he recognized exactly where to find the subject of the short video. in that moment, faced with clarity, he’s tempted to run before he’s caught.
karma has other plans for him and when he turns around in the already cramped hallway to flee the same way he came in, he’s all but chest-to-chest with the woman he wanted to see but is presently attempting to avoid to preserve his ego, which is dead under their heels now. his lips turn up in a sheepish grin because he has no excuse — she knows. she knows he viewed the story like she knows he came to find her ( and she can now call him on being a coward ). he pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth and tucks one thumb into the front pocket of his jeans, facing her. )
I left my wallet in the truck. ( he covers smoothly, figuring she won't cop a feel and find it in his back pocket, here, in plain view of all these mundanes. )
gives you only izzy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Tomorrow there will be another mission, another demon that needs to be taken care of, but tonight it's all about having a good time. The promise of which almost becomes a guarantee as Bellamy turns, nearly crashing right into her. He was one of many that saw the boomerang of her dancing, hands in her hair, hips swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music, but he's the one she'd really been hoping to lure out. ]
Really? [ Izzy knows this isn't really his kind of scene, so while it's a feasible excuse and she doesn't necessarily doubt it, she knows it's possible he was just turning tail (ha) and running.
The size of the hall requires her to sidestep as someone else barrels past and she ends up close enough to Bellamy that she can feel the heat radiating off his body, a delicious contrast to the air conditioning pumping from overhead. She reaches up to drag her fingers through her hair, pulling it over one shoulder to expose the side of her neck, her shoulder, and her collar bone. Honestly, her hair probably covers more of her than her dress. ]
Want some help looking for it?
no subject
he isn’t necessarily a shy man. he doesn’t make himself small for anyone. he relents in her case, sometimes, because he knows the repercussions of their entanglement will strike them differently — his head clear from his shoulders and a slap on her wrist, maybe some missing traveling perks. internally, he can descend down that path: octavia’s warcry, anguished howls, and the annihilation of his closest friends straying from the pack. bellamy can hear the consequences like sirens, deafening him, and through the noise, he can unmistakably read the question on her lips.
bellamy steps into her, one palm on either side of her waist in order to lean in and quietly speak into her ear. ) I could use the extra set of eyes. The light burned out.
( he can see in the dark and zero of his words need to be murmured between them. he wants to smell her hair. he wants her to think about another time when his breath was hot and heavy in her ear. his hands do little except cradle her, a feather-light touch when he steps around her. it’s not a total means of detangling because he finds her hand in the dark corridor, lacing his fingers through isabelle’s to guide her the short but tight walk to the exit. to his credit, they make it the entire trek to the passenger side door before he uses his grasp to attempt to spin her in his grasp. she can catch herself but he's still going to walk her backwards into the door if she doesn't call him on it. )
no subject
Especially when the alternative is Bellamy, hands warm on her waist even with a light touch, his breath against her ear sending excitement through her that pools pleasantly between her legs. She knows the burnt-out light wouldn't impede him in any way, but it's a nice excuse. Not that she needs one.
The night air is brisk, nearly as chilled as the artificial air inside the club's hallway, but her body thrums with warmth as he spins her and backs her against his truck. She grins at him, her heeled boots putting her nearly at eye-level with him, and lets go of his hand in favor of dragging her hands up over his torso, between the layers of his jacket and shirt. ]
I'm glad you came out tonight. I've missed you. [ Their relationship may be mainly physical in nature, but that doesn't make the statement any less true. And just in case the statement has him ready to bolt, Izzy stretches against him in an almost cat-like fashion, pressing her body closer to his. ] But unless you dropped it on the ground, I don't think we're going to find your wallet out here.
no subject
bellamy’s thigh slides between hers, barely divided by the hem of her dress. it’s short enough that if he keeps pressed against her long enough, he’ll feel the heat of her through her layers and denim. they both know the wallet is a ruse, and yet, his expression softens. ) You an expert on lost and found endeavors now?
( more brusque than intended but bellamy's more focused on her lips and how he can feel her breath, how his thigh is inching her dress up, and how easily he can scoop her up against him in the middle of the parking lot. he rifles through his pocket for his keys because of course he has an outdated truck that doesn't use an automatic function. unlocking her door is easy and he pulls her with him as he opens the door, guiding her around it and towards the seat. his help's not required to climb in but he takes every excuse to touch her that he can. bellamy has no qualms with actively hindering isabelle from climbing up via trapping her with an arm across her waist. she isn't pinned and she's capable of breaking free if that's what she wants, although he's strongly hoping she lets him fix his mouth to the side of her neck so he can murmur into a soft kiss: ) I've missed you, too.
for clary!
Particularly so when it comes to seeking out distractions to keep himself preoccupied from thoughts of everything he's left behind in Paris. Is it really any surprise that his eye would catch a particularly attractive redhead that happened to slip past him at the bar one night? Not at all. He's never been picky, but he does have a type. It didn't hurt that the lovely visage was accompanied by a bold attitude, an alluring smile, and, quite frankly, a scent that had him immediately intrigued. There was something different about it, something he hasn't encountered before, he's sure.
That particular curiosity has been set aside in favor of less prying questions, and some casual flirtatious gestures that led to very overt flirtation in turn. And perhaps his motivations aren't as entirely innocent or simple as he would claim, but he hasn't lied to her either. He genuinely doesn't mean to cause her any harm, which couldn't be said of some of the others that have noted her presence — it was to be expected in an establishment that catered to the types that were inclined to stay to the shadows of the city. He might have dropped a few well=placed hints to imply that he would take any untoward advances toward her rather personally.
He wouldn't want them ruining an otherwise pleasant evening.
Of course he knows exactly where to find her, at a dimly lit booth that's away from the relative crowd at the bar, but rather than immediately slide into the empty seat across from her he's stopping beside her. He assumes that if she's as eager to pick up where their conversation left off then she might not want to stay here. It's not exactly comfortable. ]
May I join you?
no subject
Usually, that means finding jobs or hobbies, anything that feels moderately productive, but there's only so much she can do during the evenings and nights to keep herself distracted. That's how she first found herself here, in a bar that is so far out of her element, and not simply because of her age. (After all, she's still a few years shy of legal drinking age back home.) But tonight, she's shown up in hopes of meeting with the exact man who appears at her side mere moments after his last message.
She is a bit surprised that he doesn't just take a seat, though she's thankful for it as well as his question. It makes her suggestion so much easier to broach. ]
I was actually just heading out. [ Never mind that there's a mostly untouched drink on the table in front of her. Clary grabs her jacket and moves to stand, smiling as she ends up a bit more in Laurent's space than politeness might require. ] I could use company on the walk home, though, if you're not busy. [ Her voice drops to a whisper as she adds, ] This place is full of sketchy people; I'd feel a lot better if I had someone with me. Just in case.
no subject
Of course. [ She is standing very close, and he's clearly in no rush to put a more proper distance between them. If anything he's leaning slightly into it, almost close enough that her hair brushes against his cheek when he does take a step back so that they can actually move toward the door together, gesturing in that direction with a slight bow. As if he's the picture of propriety. ] I'm never too busy for a lovely lady such as yourself, I assure you.
[ If he were genuinely interested in being a proper gentleman he would likely offer her an arm and allow that to be the extent of the intimacy between them, but while he would hardly refuse that gesture if she were to seek it, he's more easily distracted with the idea of what they could do now that they're outside and away from any prying eyes. It's probably not all that difficult to guess where his thoughts are going either, given the fact that his gaze has a habit of trailing from her eyes to her lips.
And he can't help but ask, dropping some of that performative air, though his smile remains as genuine as ever. ]
Did you really come all this way just to see me?
no subject
She slips into her jacket once they get outside, pulling her hair free from beneath the collar when he asks his question. ] Maybe. [ Her tone is flirty, teasing as she looks over to him, catching his gaze as it strays to her lips. Without any sort of conscious thought, her teeth catch at the bottom one, a rush of excitement and anticipation spreading through her.
As if she weren't already a little warm already from their messages, imagining Laurent's hands on her, holding her to his body. ]
I definitely didn't come for the drinks. [ Slipping her arm through his, hand wrapping around his bicep with perhaps more familiarity than would be appropriate were they back in the Paris of his time, Clary starts walking in the direction of her place. Even ignoring how she's touching him, she doesn't bother keeping much distance between them, either. ] Even I know they're not that good here.
no subject
The way he looks at him is always distracting, but at the moment it's exceptionally difficult to maintain focus on their walk in the wake of it, when he wants nothing more than to follow up on promises made earlier in the night. He has to wonder how set she really is on making it all the way back to her destination before they give in to the distractions. He's hardly the picture of restraint, though those with more modern sensibilities would ascribe him more than he actually possesses. ]
No one does. [ He agrees, amused and shamelessly leaning into the space that's already closer than it needs to be. Close enough that it's hardly necessary to tilt his head down toward hers to speak to her in conspiratorial tones, her hair brushing against his cheek, but of course he's not doing it out of necessity. ] Generally I wouldn't say that the clientele is all that pleasing either when you aren't gracing us with your presence.
[ She does brighten a room, and he's not just saying that to flatter her. ]
no subject
In that case, I'll try to swing by more often. [ When she turns her head to look at Laurent, she only lets enough space come between them that she can see his face without issue, regretting it almost immediately because suddenly the walk to her apartment seems far too long.
Her gaze drifts towards his lips for a moment before lifting to his eyes again, curious how just a few text messages and him whispering in her ear could affect her this much. But then maybe it's just him; he's incredibly handsome and charming, and she could easily see many women turning to mush around him. ] I'd feel awful if I was the cause of a disappointing night.
no subject
All forward momentum is lost when she turns toward him, and he does not seek to chase it. Rather he bends toward her even more, so that the narrow space between their faces sparks with even more potential, his eyes dark and intent on her own. There's no need to play coy, they've both already made their intentions very plain, and he sees no need to wait until they're truly in privacy to let that thin veil of propriety slip. It's not as if it would matter if they're caught like this anyway, not in a place that openly espouses public orgies, of all things. ]
That's very generous of you. [ His free hand drifts up, fingertips trailing across her cheekbone while he lingers, eager and yet still drawing it out a few moments longer, just listening to the sound of her breath and heartbeat and breathing in the scent of her now, so close he can almost taste her even before his lips actually brush against hers. ] We hardly deserve your radiance, but I would be glad to have it.
[ He's wanted to kiss her for too long to hold it back now, but the shift from the warmth of his breath to the soft press of his mouth to hers is a smooth motion, slow and almost chaste only in that he's deliberately taking his time with it. He doesn't want to miss a single quiet sound or shiver or skipped heartbeat of anticipation at where it takes them. ]
no subject
It seems impossible that someone she barely knows could have this intense of an impression on her and yet, when he finally kisses her, Clary finds herself letting out a rush of breath through her nose that she didn't realize she'd been holding. A sound comes with it from somewhere in the back of her throat, half pleasure and half desperation, already hungry for more but not wanting to rush and miss a moment of this.
As the kiss continues, Clary meeting the pressure and depth that Laurent sets out, she can't resist wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing in close to him so he feels the curve of her body as it arches against his. Her fingers tangle in the strands of his hair, keeping him close even though she's fairly certain he's not going anywhere anytime soon. ]
no subject
And Clary effortlessly tempts him with all of them. Her warmth is alluring, intensely so now that his mouth is on hers, a note of impatience in the catch of her breath this time as the kiss hovers on a precarious balance of want and restraint. He has to be careful with his kisses anyway, obviously, but that hardly stops him from exploring her mouth with his tongue, his hands naturally shifting as she slides closer. The soft sound he makes against her lips is more pleased than needy, which is mostly a testament to his control rather than wanting this any less than she does.
One hand does hesitate at the back of her neck, his fingers briefly circling through her hair before he seems to reconsider that, instead dropping it all the way down her back so that both of his hands are resting on her hips, tugging her forward against him. As if there was any space there left to cross.
He does, eventually, pull back from her mouth, but still close enough that he can tease the tip of his tongue against her lower lip. ]
You weren't planning on leaving me at the door, were you?
no subject
The largest part, of course, is how much she wants him, regardless of — or maybe even on some level because of — what he is. She's been captivated by him since the first time she saw him and although she'd teased otherwise, Laurent is the only reason she went back to that bar, hoping for this exact result. Although the reality is so much better than she ever could have imagined.
His fingers at the back of her neck send spikes of excitement through her but it falls to her hip and he tugs her forward that makes heat throb between her legs, thighs squeezing together subconsciously in anticipation. ]
No. [ It's more a breath than an actual word, exhaled against his lips as her hands move over his shoulders to settle on his chest. Her tongue swipes across the spot he just teased as though trying to taste him, even as he still lingers in her mouth. And then her hands move again, down his body until they find his, gently pulling them from her hips until they are palm-to-palm.
Taking a step back, leading him further down the street towards her place, Clary smiles — breathless, cheeks flushed, green eyes warm with desire. ] I'll even prove it to you if we ever get there.
no subject
So he's reluctant, but he allows her to instigate space between them so that they can continue to progress, at the very least pleased that he has the chance to see her looking so flushed and excited about what they can do once they do reach their destination. She's lovely, as he's already expressed, and he does appreciate opportunities to properly admire that beauty.
And, he must admit, taking the time to build the anticipation is certain to be worth the effort. ]
Well I can't pass up the chance to let you prove it, can I?
[ He'll let her lead the way, following in step along with her. ]
for LAURENT.
[ The city they're trapped in isn't large by any means and yet it seems uncharacteristically so as Wanda walks to Laurent's apartment. Despite the late hour the streets seem packed as well, slowing her progress enough to make her consider just using her power to get there. It would be far easier, but she's managed to keep that information from the general public's eye since she arrived here and while she's not actively trying to keep it under wraps, she's also not terribly interested in revealing herself to the entire city. Given the chance, she would rather choose who, how, and when to divulge that information.
It's also likely that she is just anxious to get to him and that's making everything seem almost unbearable. Most of it is the thrill of seeing him again, but the part of her that prompted her initial message is still simmering quietly in her chest. The fact that Laurent told her about Therese was important, of course, and she's thankful to know, yet it still sits uncomfortably some nights. Such as tonight, thoughts of her circling through Wanda's brain unbidden as she tried, to no avail, to sleep.
She pushes the thoughts from her mind again, focusing instead on the rest of their conversation, when she gets to his door. With a light rapping of her knuckles against the wood, Wanda lets her thigh-length jacket part, revealing the simple, burgundy cotton camisole underneath. Knowing Laurent as she does — knowing herself with Laurent as she does — it's doubtful that she'll be wearing it long once inside, so she opts for the early reveal of it. ]
no subject
He does take a moment there at the open door to admire her, as always, slightly flushed from her walk, and probably from the conversation that preceded it, her hair in loose waves tumbling over her shoulders, the jacket, and the straps of the thin garment she's chosen to wear, and very little else. His teeth catch onto his lower lips briefly as his eyes rake over her, appreciative and hungry, knowing that she's similarly able to gaze over the scene that he's set for her, his bared form only further emphasized by the dimmed light behind him. ]
You are far too good to me, Wanda.
[ It seems important to call her by name rather than any of the number of sweet affections he's prone to using for her.
And equally important that he sweep her into a kiss before he says or does anything else, his fingers tangling into her hair as he draws her in with him. She may scold him for it, since they do have some sort of plan, but he really, honestly, can't help himself. He has to have a taste of those soft, warm lips, though he's at least behaving to an extent in that he's not pulling her fully against him, though he wouldn't have any complaints about it if she embraced that potential herself. ]
no subject
Hearing her name — noting, too, that he forgoes an endearment — pulls her attention away from his body and to his face, locking eyes with him in that half-second before he kisses her. The plan isn't necessarily forgotten or cast aside in favor of the threading of his fingers through her hair, but it's certainly postponed as she closes the distance he'd left between their bodies. She wants to feel his arousal pressed against her, even with the soft fabric of the camisole in the way.
Her fingers skim across his hips and up along his sides until her hands settle on his back, pulling Laurent closer still. Their kiss deepens into something more fervent, only then running the risk of foregoing what they talked about entirely. That's when she breaks from him, although she hardly goes far, her ragged breath warm against his lips. ]
I believe I was promised a tie. [ Among other things, but him asking nicely will come later. Of the two, Laurent is the one more inclined to take a more commanding role in the bedroom (something she wonders, sometimes, if she also has in common with Therese) but tonight, needing assurance that she's not just a replacement for the woman he cares for back home, Wanda feels more demanding than normal. ]
no subject
He's almost drawn into shifting into that exactly when she finally finds it in herself to disrupt their heated kiss, to which he can only just muffle a soft sigh of acceptance. He's still very tempted to make a case for simply indulging in each other's company for a while first and then seeing to more creative endeavors, but he recognizes the demand in her tone and he's equally incapable of denying it, for his own selfish desires or otherwise.
So instead he draws himself back, after skimming his hands over her shoulders and freeing her coat from them, helping her slide it off and casually tossing it aside behind her, fairly careless of whether it ends up on the nearby chair or on the floor. ]
Of course.
[ He murmurs against her lips, his breath just as uneven and heated as hers, lingering a moment longer before properly pulling away, though his eyes stay on her as he steps toward the couch. He's left one of his ties there which should function well enough as either a blindfold or any other sort of restraint she might be inclined toward using, either on him or herself. ]
You look absolutely stunning, by the way. [ His gaze trails over her again as he slides his tongue over his own lips, just... thinking about it, as he tends to do. When his eyes meet hers again they're bright and pleased. ] Not that you're ever anything less.
no subject
Wanda's gaze drops momentarily to his hand as he picks up the tie though she lifts her eyes in time to see the pass of his tongue over his lips. It makes her already heightened breath catch somewhere in her throat but she doesn't look away when their eyes meet. Even when they had first started dancing closer to crossing this line, before they'd ever slept together, she never looked away in a heated moment. A difference between herself and Therese, though largely a product of their times, that she is unaware of. ]
I thought you might enjoy this.
[ The camisole is not what she'd worn to bed. When alone, or even when simply going to sleep with someone rather than trying to entice them, she gravitates towards simple tank tops or t-shirts and shorts. Comfort over allure. But knowing that she was coming here to see him, Wanda had changed intentionally with him in mind — particularly his fingers curled around the deep red fabric, bunching it at her hips as he kneeled in front of her and buried his blindfolded face between her legs.
With that same vision running through her imagination again she steps forward, fingers trailing lightly down Laurent's wrist and the edge of his hand before taking hold of the tie. ]
Have you gotten a good enough look for now?
no subject
Perhaps that's not why she spoke to him of another woman tonight though. Or at least not entirely why. He also knows her well enough to have realized that she's quick to consider herself deficient in some way that would compare her less than favorably to this other woman that she'll never meet. As if she's lacking something necessary. He's pointed out before that he considers her to be no less than divine perfection.
He's dramatic that way, he can't help it. ]
I suppose it will suffice. [ He lets the tie slip from his fingers as he leans in to press one more very light, very brief kiss to her lips, then pulling back far enough to give her one last look, his eyes trailing from her face all the way down to her feet. Of course he'll remember this, even when he can't see it. ] I am yours to do with as you please.
no subject
Aren't you always? [ She gives Laurent a grin as she lifts the tie to his eyes.
Her fingers are gentle as she guides it across the bridge of his nose and then back against his temples, fingertips dragging through his curls before she leans in closer to knot the fabric behind his head. It's secure enough that it won't fall easily but not so tight as to cause him discomfort because that isn't the goal here. Though they have been known to explore some rougher activities together, tonight she's much more interested in tenderness.
Devotion, even.
As she finishes the knot, Wanda turns her head, just close enough that he'll feel the warmth of her breath across his cheek when she speaks. ]
You look quite nice like this. Naked, blindfolded... Hard. I think I could get used to it.
no subject
His own isn't blind as much as it's reckless, of which he's aware, it just isn't anything that's going to dissuade him. He's in far too deep now to have second thoughts about this, for better or for worse.
He stands, patient and willing, slightly bent toward her to make it easier for her to reach, and doing a fairly admirable job of keeping his hands to himself, if he were to say so. To a point. He tips his head slightly toward that breath, as if seeking more of that warmth, his slightly parted lips brushing against her cheek, his hands lingering down along her sides. If she wishes to guide him she'll find him perfectly obedient, but in the absence of any direction naturally he's going to touch her. He can barely keep his hands off of her even when he isn't already aroused. ]
Tell me what else you want to see.
no subject
Putting a small amount of space between them, but doing nothing to redirect or dislodge his hands, Wanda lifts fingers to trace the curve of his lower lip. Her other hand settles on his hip, the way she grips him probably telling in how hard it is for her to show some restraint. But the image in her head is almost taunting her with the promise of how good it will be, and how it will assuage the worries burning hot in her chest. ]
You, on your knees in front of me.
[ The tips of two of her fingers push past his lips, curious to see if he will tease them or let them slip free in favor of blindly finding her to kiss properly. Either way, she won't be disappointed. ]
I want to see just how well you do know my body.
no subject
In the meantime he's going to start working his way down. She did say she wants to see him on his knees, and he has no hesitation in giving her that, it's just going to take him some time to get that far when he has to pay thorough attention to all of the parts of her that he's obsessed with along the way. And he does have a considerably intimate familiarity with them, to the point that it's clear that he knows his way even without the benefit of being able to see where his lips are going to land.
First on her own lips, briefly, just to taste her once more before he's dipping his head lower and trailing soft, lingering kisses along the line of her jaw and then her neck, spending just a little extra time on the spot where it meets her shoulder. ]
You have seen me study.
[ Much more enthusiastically than he ever was when it came to academia, certainly. ]
nsfw images | also i'm done spamming (for clary)