i spent too much time on the internet and it dried on me

nefarious ❖ chanyeol

anon requested: Heyo could I request some step brother chanyeol smut where they don’t get along and are constantly teasing each other (in a sexy way?). One day chanyeol is going through the girls Phone and finds her daddy kink bdsm Tumblr and decides to punish her ;) in turn some kinky sex with spanking and bondage. (Lol sorry this is so detailed chanyeol has been fucking me up lately)

(gif not mine, credits to the owner)

7456 words | smut, daddy kink, stepbrother-stepsister relationship, light bondage (choking, thigh riding, spanking) | velvet

✎ Nefarious: wicked, villanous, despicable or simply Park Chanyeol.

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anonymous asked:

First of all I love you're writing! Also there's not enough Asa Butterfield imagines out there! If you're still taking requests than I have one! So for this request we'd have the reader and Asa, they would have known each other for a while, meeting on set for some project. Maybe they're doing a press tour for a new movie they're both in and during that press tour Asa (or the reader) proposes to the other?

Hi there! I’m so glad that you like my writing! I agree, there aren’t that many Asa imagines out there. I once spent an entire weekend combing the internet for some, but alas, there are not too may to choose from. So, I’m glad to be adding something into the fandom. Stay peculiar! x

Originally posted by donutsandkellic


Summary: Since you and Asa have been dating for a year or two, you know that Asa is just full of surprises. So, it doesn’t surprise you when he has one up his sleeve when you two got to Tokyo for a press tour for your upcoming movie.

You stared out the window of the van as you continued the trip through Tokyo. you could feel the energy radiating off Asa as he took it all in. This was his favourite place in the world, and for the first time, you were here with him.

You felt his hand slip over yours on the seat next to you, making you smile. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. You had met on the set of Ender’s Game, a few years back; you were an extra and he was the main protagonist, Ender. You two never spoke that much then, but after meeting each other at events for a year or two, you two decided to make something out of it. And you never once regretted it.

Pulling up to the hotel entrance, you could feel the butterflies. This was your first major press tour as you finally got a lead role in a movie, thanks to Asa, of course. He was your partner in crime, and now on the silver screen. Before you could even reach for the door handle, the door swung open, the face of the driver smiling widely. You thanked him as you stepped out, your head narrowly missing the roof of the car.

Waiting for Asa, you stood near a column in the roundabout, admiring the sun that was just about to finish setting. You knew that the nightlife was great here, and after your 6-hour nap on the flight here, you were more than ready to explore what Tokyo had to offer.


“Y/n,” you heard him call from the bathroom as you sorted through your suitcase.

“What?” you called, holding an old pyjama shit in your hand.

“I can’t get over the toilet’s here! They’re so cool!” he exclaimed, coming into the main portion of the room.

You smiled widely, that was Asa for you; excited by the weirdest things. But that’s what made you love him more.

“I’m going to take a shower before we head out,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you passed him to get into the bathroom.

He raised his eyebrows, suggestively. “I’ll come join -”

“Not today,” you said, closing the door and locking it behind you. You knew that if he came in, you wouldn’t be leaving the hotel room all night.

After your shower, you quickly dried your hair and put on a pair of dark blue shorts with a dark grey t-shirt tucked into it. Your hair was up in a ponytail to keep it out of trouble for the night.

“How do I look?” you asked, twirling.

“Beautiful,” he said, catching your arm and pulling you to him. “Like always.” You couldn’t help but blush, he was amazing. You pressed your lips to his for a moment before your phone went off. It was your manager. We’re waiting, the message said. You gave him one last peck before you picked up your purse, slinging it over your shoulders.

“Let’s go.”


The plan for the night was to go to a warehouse rave, which was apparently a big deal here. I thought it would be fun to go, and Asa seemed excited too. Pulling up to the location, it was crowded, almost to the brim, but nonetheless, fun. There was something about foam and glow in the dark paint that just made these things the most fun in the world. After about an hour and a half, you stepped outside to take a breath of fresh air. Your body was dripping with foam and paint as you exited the building, leaving a train behind you as you went to go sit at a bench by a bus stop. You couldn’t see the moon out, but there were a few stars in the sky tonight, it was still relaxing.

“Y/n?” you heard your voice being called.

Looking behind you, you could see your paint soaked boyfriend by the entrance of the building. You waved him over, smiling ever so gently when he sat next to you.

“Having fun?” you asked, wiping some of the paint off your arm.

“Yeah,” he said, a goofy grin on his face. It was quiet after that. Not awkward, but comforting in a way.

“Have you ever thought of the future?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“The future?” he asked, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to him. “I mean, I’m no fortune teller, but I think you’re going to be involved in mine.”

You looked at him strangely. “What makes you say that?” Of course, you loved him with everything you had and you wanted him in your life, but you couldn’t predict the future; anything could happen.

Anything could happen. That night, then and there something did happen.

“Do you want to get married?” he asked, staring up the sky.

“Of course. That’s the dream, right? Get married, start a family, the works,” you began to ramble. That happened sometimes, but Asa didn’t mind.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

You choked on your spit as you began to comprehend the question.

“What?” you croaked out, still coughing and sputtering.

“Will you marry me, y/n?”

He had no box, no ring, and he wasn’t on one knee either. But at that moment, everything seemed like it was falling into place. Even the rave music in the background added to the moment. It was one of the best moments of my life.


“Yes what?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

I pulled him into a tight hug. And as we sat there that warm summer night, covered in paint; I knew that I’d found the one I’d been looking for.


Read it here at AO3.

For @bloomsoftly , with the generous help and tips from @dresupi (who is now third best person in the universe, thank you so much!).
So honey, I hope you like it!

Souls were, all in all, a very colorful thing.

Everybody had one, regardless of belief. Everybody needed one, but they pretended they were a big affair.

To Darcy, who had been able to see souls since forever, they were nothing but colored dots floating inside of very cute packages, depending on the person they belonged to.

They were a trinket – if you will – to be observed and admired until otherwise needed, and that usually came after death.

And it was Truth.

So she wasn’t really prepared for the shiny golden aura surrounding Dr Jane Foster, astrophysicist.

It was blinding, overwhelming and beautiful; Darcy kinda wanted it.

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Presque Vu   Chapter 21

   As Raina lay there trying to recover, her breathing changed from ragged pants to deep gulps and then suddenly she was sobbing, so deeply that her whole body shook.  It was a strange feeling, not like a normal cry, where the sadness seemed to be creeping in until it became overwhelming, but completely the opposite, like a release valve had been turned and all the negative things she had been holding were being washed away.  She knew there was no stopping it but she didn’t want to stop it.  It felt cleansing and wonderful.  

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Warnings: None? Reader takes a shower but that’s all
Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, Sister Winchester Reader, Castiel
Summary: Castiel picks an inappropriate time to ask you something
Readers Age: I guess it can work for any
Word Count: 598

Y/N: Your Name


You’ve had a very long day, you got back from a hunt, followed by a few errands. All you want is to get a nice long shower, get into your pajamas, and curl up in your bed while watching a movie. Was that too much to ask? The answer is yes.

For some reason Castiel has been popping in and asking you the most random questions. You’d think he already knew the answers, but nope! Castiel insists on going to you for answers, his excuse is he doesn’t like the internet. “Y/N, what is this?” Castiel asked one morning, holding up a maxi pad. Your eyes widened, your brothers didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe.

“Give me that!” You rushed over and swiped the pad out of his hands. “Castiel and your stupidity.” You mumbled whilst walking to the bathroom to put it back.

“Y/N?” Castiel’s sudden voice startled you.

“Holy crap, Cas!” You rested your hand on your pounding heart. “What do you want this time?”

“Why do humans feel the need to sleep?” Castiel asked, your groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Because we will die without it!” You yelled, Castiel nodded and left.

You got to the bunker and went inside, your brothers following, you waved your brothers a goodnight and walked to your room. You got into your bathroom and started the shower, you went and got your clothes, and towel ready before hopping into the shower.

You probably only spent ten minutes in there before you had the scare of your life, “Y/N?” You screamed. You jumped back and slipped, causing you to scream in pain. As you went down, you grabbed the shower curtain, it wrapped around your body until finally you fell. You heard two sets of feet rush to you, the door was kicked open and your brothers came into the bathroom.

“Cas? What the hell are you doing in here?” Dean asked, going into defensive brother mode. Sam quickly shut the shower off and grabbed a towel, he handed it to you. You wrapped the towel around your body instead of the shower curtain.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, I only wanted to ask you something.” Cas explained.

You sighed, “Cas, next time, don’t pop in while I’m taking a shower. It’s just… Creepy.” You pushed the three men out of the bathroom so you could get dressed.

Once you got dressed you walked into your room. You dried your hair with a towel before tossing it to the side, “So, Cas, what’d you want to ask me?” Your brothers stood by, their curiosity peaked as well.

“Does looking at a picture of the sun hurt your eyes?” Your small, natural smile turned into a frown. Your clenched your jaw, and gave Cas a death stare.

“That-that’s the question?” You yelled, your brothers chuckled, trying to hold in their actual laughter. Castiel nodded, as if he saw nothing wrong with the question. You ran a hand through your hair, “Get out. Cas, don’t bother me for the rest of the night, if you have a question, ask rather Dumb or Dumber.” You practically shoved the men out of your room.

“Whoa, what’d we do wrong?” Dean turned around once he was in the hall.

“You laughed.” You responded, Sam chuckled nonetheless.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed together, “Wait, who’s Dumb and who’s Dumber?” Dean asked.

You smiled, “Figure it out.” And with that you slammed your door shut and crawled into a cocoon of blankets with your laptop, leaving your brothers bickering words to fill the halls of the bunker.

Requested by @meggan-supernatural:
“I just thought of this randomly for som reason, but can you do something where Cas pops out of no where to as the reader a question…. But plot twist, the reader is taking a shower so he pops into the bathroom and the reader screams and everything so those boys come running to check on her? I know it’s weird”

A/N: Thanks for helping me with the stupid question btw!

I hope y'all like this one! I’m open for tips on improving!

Tags: @magicalsis11, @joanne-egberp, @16wiishes, @ledledledledled, @fanboyswhereare-you, @athenepallas, @sammyfigginwinchester, @spnkisum, @xsecretrejectx, @pretty-odd-jenn, @jamies-supernatural-world

Finding Bitty’s vlog honestly was random happenstance. If there was anything non-random about it, it was Google’s fault, not Kent’s. He had the lazy, off-season thought that he wanted to make cupcakes for his teammate’s daughter’s first birthday, which their whole team was invited to. It was Google’s fault because when he was searching for “cupcake recipe”, “easy cupcake recipe”, “quick cupcakes”, “cupcake tutorial”, and “easy cupcake tutorial” a Check Please video showed up more than once, despite its seemingly non-relevant title (Cake Mixes are Not the Devil!). It probably showed up for him when it wouldn’t have for most people because its video description included the phrase, “Cupcakes so easy, even a hockey bro can make them,” and some algorithm at Google knew, just knew, that this was exactly what Kent Parson was looking for.

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Sing For You - Kai

Originally posted by kimdos

honestlyvalianttree said: Hi! What about a Kai scenario where you have a really bad panic attack in front of him for the first time? I’m curious as to how he would react.

A/N: I hope you didn’t mind I made the panic attack related to thunderstorms (it was just easier for me since it is something that I have experienced), I hope you like it and thank you for the request.

“Ah, the weather looks weird”, you thought to yourself when you observed the sky through the window, you anxiously looked at your phone to check the weather and you released a sharp breath at seeing a 80% chance of a thunderstorm soon, before you could process the information your boyfriend Kai came back with the snacks he was getting at the kitchen, all excited to watch the movie, he observed your face for a while and got concerned “Y/N, is there something wrong?” , you got out of your trance and shook your head nervously “huh? No, of course not, let’s go watch the movies”, he side glanced at you and said “hm…okay, are you sure?” you let out a nervous chuckle and sit on the couch “yeah of course”.

He sat next to you and you both started to watch the movie, you couldn’t focus all your attention to it because you couldn’t stop side glancing at the window, waiting for your awaited nightmare to come, you shrugged that thoughts out of your head, this was ridiculous, you weren’t a kid anymore, and those weather predictions are most of the time wrong, right?

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Do you have any advice for people who want to write, but feel afraid or not good enough? Not necessarily writing fanfic, but writing in general? I’ve got so many ideas for stories, and I have so much fun planning them & daydreaming about them, but when it comes to the writing, I just freeze up. :/ Thank you!!! :* <3

I received this ask today, and I’m responding to it without the person’s name, in case they don’t want to be attached to it. But I wanted to share my response publicly because I’m betting what you’re describing is something many people feel, and others may have their own insight to contribute (very possibly better than what I can offer).

I don’t have an easy answer. I can tell you my story, though, and what’s currently working for me. Spoiler alert before I start: you are not alone. What you’re feeling is totally normal for someone who loves writing. I wish it wasn’t, but self-doubt pretty much comes with the territory. The secret, if there is one, is to learn how to recognize that, and push through anyway, even on the days when it’s really, really hard.

I’ve been writing since I knew that writing was A Thing People Can Do. I was the kid who always had a notebook on hand; when I was in places (like church) where it’d be frowned upon to be overtly writing one of my stories, I’d scribble ideas down on scraps of paper I stuffed into my pockets and tried to rearrange into plots once I got home. 

I wrote terrible, formulaic stories when I was a kid. The one I thought at the time was going to be my masterpiece (I really believed in myself back then) was a pretty blatant rip-off of The Black Stallion Returns. (But my horse was red and the opening scenes were in my carefully described neighborhood, so it was different, see.)

I kept writing through high school, filling up more notebooks, and swapping them with my fellow writer friends during our lunch hours, so we could exclaim over each others’ stories and encourage each other to keep going. I wrote a lot at this time, including two “novels” that were each over 400 handwritten pages.

They were terrible. Better than what I wrote when I was in elementary school, but still badly plotted, predictable, and frankly pretty embarrassing to look back on now.

I have those notebooks (and binders) stored in a box under my bed, and I think sometimes about shredding the evidence, in case I ever manage to get published, and someone finds out what an awful writer I used to be. But I haven’t (yet), because the truth is, I loved writing every single one of those pages. I loved daydreaming new scenes, bits of dialogue, dramatic moments that tugged at my emotions. I loved sprawling on my bed or sitting at my desk and transferring these thoughts to physical form.

It didn’t really matter that my dialogue was stilted, and my characters were wooden. What mattered was that it was fun. I still have incredibly fond memories of that point in my life, and I wish I could go back to the pure enjoyment I felt back then, when I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that I was going to be a published author.

I think that’s an important thing to remember. The act of writing, on its own, is worthwhile. The way it makes you feel is important. The joy you get from crafting your ideas and seeing them take shape on the page: that’s a gift you shouldn’t shy away from.

The end result doesn’t have to be good. And it probably won’t be, not right away. That doesn’t make you a bad writer. That makes you a normal writer. There isn’t a single writer out there who believes that everything they’ve ever written is amazing. Not even the biggest, brightest, most incredibly talented, critically acclaimed authors you can think of. (If they do think this, they’re (a) a douchebag and (b) delusional.)

Your writing improves as you continue to write. That’s how it works. It’s like anything else: playing an instrument, being an athlete. You won’t wake up one day and win a race, or play a flawless solo at a concert, unless you’ve put in the work to get yourself there. You probably won’t write an award-winning story your first time putting pen to paper. Maybe you will, over time. Maybe you won’t. 

But you know what?

That doesn’t matter.

What matters is that you have a brain teeming with creativity, and you want to tell your stories. So you should. That’s reason enough, and I can tell you from experience that when you hold yourself back out of fear or self-doubt, all you’re doing is making yourself unhappy.

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Coming Home: D.O

Hello! :)) 

Here’s what you can listen to. Enjoy! 

All Kyungsoo wants is stability; all he wants is to wake up everyday without fearing the loss of something that’s gotten too close. In the middle of the months spent without her, volatility is something he stops being afraid of, because somehow, his memories of her never flicker and the way his heart feels every time he thinks of her never goes away. 

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For @ferventrabbit, who wanted fluffy Christmas tickling, which slowly devolves into a “first” of some kind. Hope this hits the spot for you! Here it is on ao3, if you prefer.

It felt a bit like he was hiding right under Jack’s nose, at the cabin in Southern Pennsylvania. As the crow flew, it was probably only a good thirty miles from the nearest town (if it could be called that, with is population of 1200). But all the twisting roads, plateaus, and valleys made it inaccessible by any other route, and so the trip took over an hour to make.

The nearest neighbour was over fifteen minutes away, and Will had never so much as seen their car. No one found it unusual that Will and Hannibal never went out, either. They had everything delivered, even the once weekly order of groceries, which were left on the covered back porch. It was common in these parts–the sort of people who chose to live out here were anti-social at best.

On the Allegany Plateau, the snow came early and fell heavy, some areas accumulating as many as 150 inches of snow. Between the unforgivable weather and terrain, the general disinterest of the people in the area, and the fact that this hideout was in no way traceable to either of them, Will found he was as confident of their ability to lay low and recover. Even if they were only a few hours drive from where they’d disappeared.

The cabin was small and tidy, but it served their needs. The lower level, built into the hillside, housed two bedrooms, joined by a shared bathroom, the laundry and storage rooms, and a workout room. Upstairs was one large, open space with, the kitchen, dining area, and living room.

Windows stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling, along the entire width of the southern wall, warming the room late into the day. They kept the stone fireplace constantly going with the supply of chopped wood in the attached garage. Between that and the natural insulation in the bedrooms, the home was always comfortably warm, no matter how bitter the wind outside.

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50 Shades of Raudenfeld Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the all the love on the first chapter! I’m going to try and have a new chapter out every week. This is also a pretty long chapter because I wanted to make sure we got some Karma and Amy action. I’m also trying to stay  with the 50 shades of grey theme but also make the story a bit of my own just to fit who Amy and Karma are. Feel free to send me more feedback or suggestions! Hope you enjoy :D  

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Back In My Arms

Inspired by all the talk of a possible upcoming reunion, as well as one of Maks latest IG picture hashtag.

Smut warning for the end.
She felt like a child on Christmas morning again, trying not to bounce up and down in her seat as the plane began to descend into LAX, for the start of her 5 day visit. The landing seemed to take even longer this time; it seemed to get longer each they flew to see each other, their patience becoming shorter. As the doors opened, allowing the passengers to depart, Meryl all but ran off the plane, hastily finding her way to baggage claim. She made it there in record time, but once again time was out of her hands, as she waited for her bag to appear, eager to make her way out of the airport to the car waiting for her. Well more importantly the big sexy Russian that would be waiting in the car for her appearance, hopefully waiting just as impatiently as her. Maybe walking so quickly to baggage claim was not the best idea, after 10 minutes of waiting she just wanted to hear his voice, find out where he was so she could get to him quicker. “Hi babe, just landed?” Maks questioned, answering on the second ring

“No we got in about 10 minutes ago, just waiting for my bag” Meryl spoke quickly, Maks’ deep laugh coming through the phone, sensing her obvious impatience at the current situation.

“Ok, well babe I am in 12C, and your bag will be there any minute, I will be waiting” Maks trying to settle her slightly.

“Thanks honey. Oh I think I see my bag. I will be there in a minute” Meryl’s smile translating easily through the phone.

5 minutes later Meryl found herself looking at the 12C sign; it took 5 more seconds for her to locate her big sexy Russian leaning against the side of his car. Dragging her bag behind her she quickly made to way towards him, step becoming larger and quicker. The second she was in front of Maks her carry on bag found its way onto the ground, and herself in his arms, her arms around his neck, her feet off the ground, and her lips upon his lips.

The drive back to Maks apartment was spent discussing the previous week’s events, yes they had of course talked about most of it over the phone, but it was never the same as holding hands and actually being able to see the persons face as they talked, imagination could only do so much. Maks talked about the beauty of Italy, his amazement at seeing John Legend perform ‘All of Me’ live, wishing he could of had her in his arms just swaying as they reminisced over their foxtrot. Meryl discussed her joy of seeing all those sick children’s face light up as Charlie and herself walked into each of their rooms, at being able to hold an Olympic gold medal. Conversation turned to plans of the upcoming day, Meryl attending the DWTS premiere, before coming back to DWM to watch the show once again with Maks and everyone else that their viewing party.

By the time they arrived to the apartment Meryl had to start getting ready for the night ahead. Hopping into the shower, Maks was quick to follow, not ready to have her out of his sight just yet. They washed each other’s bodies slowly, stopping things before they got out of hand as there was little time for that now, that would have to wait just a little longer, much to both their disappointment. Getting out of the shower they dried off, Maks making his way to the closet to put a dress shirt and pants on, leaving the shirt unbuttoned for now. Meryl put a dressing gown on as she began to apply the makeup required to potentially be on camera under those harsh lights. Walking out of the bathroom, Meryl pulled out a figure hugging deep purple dress, much to Maks delight, before slipping on some lace undergarments and the dress, getting Maks to zip it up. All the while Maks was picturing the exact reverse occurring later.


The viewing party had come to an end, family members only remained , continuing the party whilst somehow managing to clean up some of the mess created. “So babe, are you ready to break the internet?” Maks enquired, standing in the middle of the now empty ballroom floor. In a now regular conversation earlier that day they had once again discussed the progression of their relationship in the public eye. The outcome this time being that the hype of a new season meant less interest in them, they would post one picture to answer the fans questions, nothing else, they would then continue like two normal people in a relationship, they would ignore the media.

“What did you have in mind?”

 Locating his brother, who had recently appeared, Maks called him over, “take a photo for me, bro” handing over his phone. Maks pulled Meryl’s back flush to his chest so no space remained between them, wrapping her waist, resting his cheek against the side of her head.

Captioning the picture ‘Happy to have this one back in my arms, never letting go #thisiswhatiwant’. Quickly seeking Meryl’s approval, he posted the picture. “Ok, now one more for me to post” a cheeky smile spreading across Meryl’s face knowing the exact picture she wanted to take.

She raised up to her tippy toes to past a kiss on Maks’ lips, hold her phone out to capture the moment, and simply wrote ‘He got what he wants 🐻 😘’ “Just in case there was any doubt after yours, that will definitely break social media” Meryl added, giggling as she posted the picture.

“How about we get out of here, while our phones blow up, let’s go home” Maks spoke, the pure joy he felt seen in his glistening eyes. With no further words being spoken Meryl waved goodnight to the remaining family as she grabbed Maks hand leading him out of the studio. Making their way back to Maks car, opening her door before making his way to the driver’s seat. The drive back to Maks place was filled with conversation of smaller events of the past weeks, Meryl’s skating and friends, Maks’ preparations for the new studio opening. Hands intertwined across the centre console. Maks rubbing small circles over her hand with his thumb, Meryl’s hand occasionally finding its way onto Maks leg, a bit too high to be classed as appropriate.

Pulling up into the driveway, Maks quickly ran around the other side of the car to, once again, open Meryl’s car door, craving the feeling of having her wrapped in his arms. Walking up the front path with Meryl in front of him, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other seeking the keys from his pocket to let them inside the house. Entering the apartment they lazily made their way to the couch, located in the centre of the living room, Maks pulling Meryl to sit atop his lap. She was quick to capture his lips with her own, craving the taste of him upon her tongue. He granted her entrance almost immediately, letting their tongues dance a well choreographed number, rehearsed many times before.

Never separating their lips, she moved her legs to position them either side of his hips, straddling him. Her hands travelled across his chiselled abs pulling his shirt off, separating only briefly to properly remove it. She could feel him hardening beneath her as her hand continued along his body, slowly finding their way across the growing bulge. Having enough, he carefully stood up, holding her in his arms as she wrapped her legs tightly around him. She started kissing his neck as he made his way to the bedroom. Entering the room he put her back onto the ground capturing her lips once again.

He slowly kissed his way down her neck, across her now bare shoulder as made his way behind her. His lips moved to the back of her neck, sending a shiver up her spin, unzipping her dress, he allowed it to pool on the ground. His mouth resumed it work along her neck as he reached his arms around her, capturing her breast in one hand, the other slowly sliding down the smooth plains of the abs before quickly plunging into her panties.

He began rubbing her, finding she was already, extreme read for him; he pushed two fingers inside her leaving his thumb to rub her clit. The fire was building within her, reaching her climax, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He held her as she rode out the wave, before pulling her towards to bed collapsing onto it, pulling her on top of him. She began removing the final pieces of his clothing, unzipping his pants drawing them down along with his boxers in one motion. He kicked them off quickly, flipping them over so he was now on top, before positioning himself over her entrance, driving himself into her.

Their hips moved in perfect union, as she began to explode around him, sending him over the top along with her. Holding each other as the waves of ecstasy rolled over them, blissful as they came down from the high. He sat up drawing the covers over them, pulling her back to his side, clutching her as close as possible. They both feel asleep idyllically, happy to be back each other’s arms, even if just few a days, waiting for the day it would be forever.

Note: for those not on their phone, the two emoticons from Meryl ‘s caption were kissy face and a teddy bear face.

People of the Year: The Observer 2014

Gillian Anderson - Actor

Words by: Kathryn  Bromwich

She won plaudits on stage as Blanche DuBois, and on TV screens as DSI Stella Gibson - and still found time to publish her first novel.

Six nights a week for three months - plus matinees twice a week - Gillian Anderson became faded southern belle Blanche DuBois in Tennesee William’s A Streetcar Named Desire at the Young Vic, putting herself through three and a half hours of spiralling desperation, alcoholism and abuse.

In one performance she cut her knee open “I was literally gushing blood! It was a bit horrific for the audience,” she cackles, “I thought I would pass out.” How did she keep herself sane? “I got a lot of sleep. It was very physical, so I saw a physiotherapist and a chiropractor on a weekly basis.”

The emotional demands were considerable too. “The first night we performed in front of an audience, I thought, I can’t do any more of this. I felt like a truck had run me over. But by the end there was a sense of catharsis every night - I felt like I got all my anger out, all my tears out, so I actually felt quite peaceful after it.”

The night before we met, Anderson won the Natasha Richardson Award for Best Actress at the London Evening Standard theatre awards for her performance, beating stage royalty such as Kristen Scott Thomas as Electra and Helen McCrory as Medea. She is visibly moved. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a feeling of being an outsider, but it’s definitely nice to be embraced, especially by people who’s work I’ve admired for decades.”

The role is one she coveted for 30 years; aged 46, Anderson took on negotiations with the Williams Estate, which had concerns that Blanche couldn’t be “too old”. In the end, “absolutely all of the elements came together,” she says. “The Young Vic was the absolute perfect place for it, and Benedict Andrews was my first choice of director. It was a wonderful experience.”

Anderson has been particularly busy this year.  As well as her critically acclaimed turn as Blanche, she appeared in the second season of BBC2 crime drama The Fall and published her first book, a sci-fi novel, A Vision of Fire, co-written with Jeff Rovin, about a child psychologist who has to solve a series of seemingly supernatural events around the world. She has also made her first steps into directing with a short film for the Young Vic, The Departure, a mini-prequel to Streetcar.  "I've been thinking about directing for a long time. It was always going to be my next step.“

She is modest about these achievements ("it doesn’t even count”) but still, its an impressive array of talents.  Is there anything she’s really bad at?  "Oh, there are so many things that I'm bad at.  I'm bad at anything that has to do with IT.  I'm bad at remembering anything other than lines for say a play.  Just so many things.“

Anderson was born in Chicago before moving to north London until the age of 11, via 18 months in Puerto Rico.  Her family was then uprooted to America, and in 2002 she moved back to London, meaning she has now spent roughly half her life on each side of the Atlantic.  "This has always felt like home to me, even when I lived in the States,” she says softly in her precise English accent.  Changing schools and continents was a difficult experience for Anderson, who was teased for her accent and taught herself to lose it (meaning she is now fully bidialectical - a useful skill for an actor).  A rebellious teenager, she was in therapy by 14, voted by her classmates “most likely to be arrested”, and was indeed arrested on graduation night for trying to glue the locks to her school.

It’s hard to reconcile this image with the sophisticated woman in 6in stilettos and immaculate make-up ensconced amid the wooden décor and dimmed lights of Fischer’s, a luxurious German restaurant in Marylebone, central London.

Yet, the teenage rebel can be glimpsed.  Her hair is tied in a scruffy bun, her fingernails are bare and closely clipped, she is wearing head-to-toe black.  She says that beauty treatments are “a pain in the arse”, but that playing Stella Gibson in The Fall has taught her to embrace a bit more glamour.  "For a good portion of my life I downgraded my femininity.  I'm absolutely useless with my own hair and make-up.  but now on a semi-regular basis I have my hair blow-dried, and I’m a it more mindful about what I wear. Just taking care of myself.“

Now in its second year, The Fall sees Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson  close in on the serial killer played by Jamie Dornan.  It is a role that has drawn comparisons to Helen Mirren’s Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect, though DSI Gibson is much more comfortable with her sexuality.  Anderson was drawn to the complexities of Gibson’s character; "Just when you think you’ve understood a little bit about her she’ll do something and you’ll go ‘Whoa, what are you doing?’ And I like that about her.”

She is curt about suggestions that the show glamorises violence against women (“I've been very outspoken about the fact that I don’t agree with that”) and becomes animated when talking about offender conviction rates: "There are still huge holes in a system where women are so afraid to come forward, and still people get cleared.  It’s highly possible that if more women were in a position to change the laws, it would be handled differently.“

Previous interviewers accounts of Anderson are split: about half say she is witty, playful and warm, the rest use words such as "icy” and “glacial”. She looks slightly bemused by this.  "It has to do with all sorts of things - how much sleep I’m getting, if my kids are sick.  It’s easy for me to become distracted and protective,  and that can come across as cold.  I don't hide things very well.“

Today she is recovering from the Evening Standard awards after party organised by Evgeny Lebedev and Sienna Miller ("four hours of sleep are not enough”), but despite the hectic day she is polite and attentive, pondering each question carefully and frequently breaking into laughter.

After the gloom of the Fall and the emotional turmoil of Streetcar, she would like to take on something light-hearted.  "There’s a dearth of comedy anyway, and they don’t generally come my way.  I don’t know what I need to do to prove to people that I can be funny.“  I ask her to tell a joke and she immediately starts trotting them off.  "Why did the hedgehog cross the road?  To visit his flatmate.”  "What did the zero say to the eight? nice belt!“  She cracks up.  "That’s the level of joke I can do.”

So what is she starring in next?  Internet rumours that’ll she be in a film called The Curse of the Buxom Stumpet appear to be misguided (“Oh my gosh, is that still on there?”) but she is “in conversations" about a couple of projects including a new York run of Streetcar and a third season of The Fall.

I remind her that is 1983 she starred in her high-school production of Arsenic and Old Lace as Officer Brophy, a minor role.  What acting advice would she give herself back then?  "If it was blind instinct that drove me to even audition, my advice would be, 'Pay attention to your instincts.’”


Yeah, yeah. Sick of me posting yet? XD Here’s another (blurry ;-;) graphic that I’m asdfghjkl; of. PHOTOSHOP,  F I T E  M E  I R L.

Remember the time I kept telling you really weird stories about my life? I thought you would get bored and annoyed with me and ditch me. But you didn’t.

How about the time I just kept on talking and bugging you? I honestly thought that you’d leave me. But you didn’t.

Thank you so much for staying with me.

-Based off “But You Didn’t”

So, even though I posted a Follow Forever on my blog a couple weeks ago (with an insane amount of glitches), I realized that it never really showed an appreciation that I had for my friends. In real life, I’m not going to lie, I don’t feel emotions that well and I’m dense. It’s gotten to the point where my friends call me a robot (Like Hideki lol) because I never react to moving emotions. I almost never tell my friends how much they mean to me or anything. (Unless they’ve been with me for awhile IRL) Throughout the past year, I’ve made countless connections with the fandom, and I will pretty much never regret the choice of joining this fandom. Anyways, long speech aside, thank you for always sticking with me, even if we’ve talked for 2 minutes or 2 days, you’re pretty important to me.

RIP mobile users again ^^;

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