look i remembered to put my name on it this time!

The real Taylor Swift:

April 23rd 2009-July 10th 2010: The Fearless Tour

The Fearless Tour. Taylor decided to walk through the crowds at her shows, greeting fans of all ages, genders and races because SHE wanted to meet the fans that had been supporting her and helping her reach where she is to this day. After each show, Taylor held a meet and greet called ‘The T-Party’. This was a room where fans could go to eat pizza and meet each other and get to know other people and then get to meet Taylor. Taylor would walk around stadiums and hide behind food bars and then surprise fans in the line. Each night she would walk a number of miles to meet as many people as she could.

February 9th 2011-March 18th 2012: The Speak Now Tour

Much like at the Fearless Tour, Taylor said she wanted to continue walking through the crowds during one of her songs at the Speak Now Tour. Taylor hugged as many people as she could and thanked them for coming. Sometimes Taylor would tell her security to move out of the way and to let her hug more people. Taylor continued her ‘T-Party’ meet and greet. Taylor’s team would walk to different areas of the stadium during the show and hand out free meet and greets to fans who had gone all-out; screaming and dancing the whole time and wearing bold and creative costumes/handmade posters.

September 8th 2012: Ronan

The lyrics to this song are based on a blog she read about a four-year-old boy, Ronan Thompson, who died from neuroblastoma in 2011.Taylor wrote the song by putting together quotes from blog creator Maya Thompson, Ronan’s mother. Thompson is credited as a co-writer of the song. Taylor first performed the song live for Stand Up to Cancer in September 2012, and has only performed it publicly one other time, at the Glendale, Arizona stop of The 1989 World Tour, at which Ronan’s mother was in the audience. All proceeds from sales of the single go to help fight cancer.

2014: 1989 Secret Sessions

In anticipation of the release of her album, 1989 on October 27, Taylor held a series of “1989 Secret Sessions” over the past few weeks at her various homes across America, where carefully-selected fans were told they were attending some sort of secret event, with no knowledge of what was in store for them. When fans arrived they were told to sit in a room together and wait. Taylor then jumped out and surprised them all and they all got to hear her new album before anyone else. Taylor baked cookies and other goods, fans got to meet Taylor’s cat, Olivia Benson Swift, and they danced together and each got to meet Taylor and just hang out.

May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour

At each 1989 concert, before perfoming her song ‘clean’, Taylor gave a 3-4 minute inspirational speech, telling fans to love themselves. This is what Taylor said to the crowd of 60,000 at Hyde Park, London on June 272015: ‘There are people here from all over the world, so if you travelled to be here, thank you so much for coming. And, you know, looking out at you, thinking about the fact that we all come from different places, maybe we all have different accents, we have different hobbies, different backgrounds, whatever. But there’s one thing that we have in common that I know for sure. That thing is that when we feel a great amount of joy, or a great amount of pain, we turn to music. That’s why we’re all at Hyde Park tonight. From talking to you so much, and getting to know you, it’s never been more apparent to me how difficult it is to feel okay about yourself in 2015. Real talk. I mean, every single day we go online – and trust me, I love the internet, okay? Love it – but, every day we go online and we scroll through the highlight reel of other people’s awesome lives. But we don’t see the highlight reel of our awesome lives – all we see is the behind the scenes. We see every single moment, from when we wake up and we’re like “oh, God, not feeling my hair today. Not going to be a good day today for the hair”. We see our doubts, we see our fears, we see our concerns. You are the only one who is inside your brain feeling all of your anxieties and the voices who are telling you that you can’t be who you want to be, or that you’re not who you want to be, or that you want to be more like that other person over there. Let me tell you, people are mean to each other, but no voice is as mean as our own voices are to ourselves. Is it true or is it false? It’s true, right? Okay, so if there’s one thing that you come away from this night remembering, I want it to be this – every day when you look in the mirror, and your mind is telling you all the things you are not – if those things are that you’re not cool enough, you’re not pretty enough, you’re not popular enough, you’re not successful enough, you’re not special, you’re not wanted, you’re not unique – those are not the things you are not. Let me tell you the things you are not. Okay? You are not somebody else’s opinion. That’s what you’re not. You are not going nowhere just because you’re not where you want to be yet. You are not damaged goods just because you have made mistakes in your life. Those are the things you are not. Let me tell you the things that you are. Would you like to hear the things that you are? You are your own definition of beautiful, and worthwhile, and no one else’s definition. You are wiser, stronger, and smarter because you made mistakes in your life, not damaged. And lastly, London, England, you are someone who is probably standing here tonight going through your own battles, fighting your own ghosts, trying to cover your own scars, stressing about your own stresses. But, rather than wallowing in them, you got up, you put on an awesome outfit, and now we’re all standing here together having the best time of our lives at a concert on a Saturday night. I realise that it’s not about being perfect, it’s not about feeling perfect. I think that sometimes it’s just about getting on with things and realising that you’re happy today. That’s all that matters. I just want you to know that one thing I have learned in 25 years, and I’m still learning, is that if you get rained on, you walk through a bunch of storms, life is constantly coming at you – that doesn’t make you damaged. It makes you clean.’


May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour (Loft 89)

At Taylor’s 1989 concerts, she held a meet and greet called ‘Loft 89′ where Taylor, again, could hang out with her fans and dance around with them. Taylor met lots of different people including children with disabilities and illnesses. Taylor made sure everyone had a great time and that everyone was included and treated equally.

Christmas 2014/2015: ‘Swiftmas’

Taylor Swift surprised 13-year-old fan Delaney Clements who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at the age of seven. Delaney, who is a massive fan of the 26-year-old singer started a campaign to meet Taylor called #TaylorMeetDelaney and on Saturday (19th December) her wish came true. Taylor surprised the family by turning up unannounced and the afternoon was captured on Instagram and Facebook with Delaney and her Mum posting photos. Taylor became so into the idea of ‘Swiftmas’ that she also sent a number of other fans packages of merch and other little presents.

Award acceptance speeches

To any award acceptance speech, there is always something directed to Taylor’s fans. Taylor thanks her fans for everything because she knows that we are such a big part of her life and she wouldnt be where she is now without us.

A very important quote Taylor has said:

Long story short: Taylor is one of those few artists who does nothing but good for her fans and everyone around her yet she gets body shamed and name called everywhere. It really does break my heart. 

Taylor has been there for me through everything and I know that she always will be because she has never failed to make us all smile and to make us all feel better about ourselves, She has made me feel loved and wanted and she has introduced me to some of my bestest friends ever. To me, Taylor Swift is not just an artist, she’s my best friend.

@taylorswift

Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes

by Stephen King
(reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer’s Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9)

I. The First Introduction

THAT’S RIGHT. I know it sounds like an ad for some sleazy writers’ school, but I really am going to tell you everything you need to pursue a successful and financially rewarding career writing fiction, and I really am going to do it in ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took me to learn.  It will actually take you twenty minutes or so to read this essay, however, because I have to tell you a story, and then I have to write a second introduction.  But these, I argue, should not count in the ten minutes.



II. The Story, or, How Stephen King Learned to Write

When I was a sophomore in high school, I did a sophomoric thing which got me in a pot of fairly hot water, as sophomoric didoes often do.  I wrote and published a small satiric newspaper called The Village Vomit.  In this little paper I lampooned a number of teachers at Lisbon (Maine) High School, where I was under instruction.  These were not very gentle lampoons; they ranged from the scatological to the downright cruel

Eventually, a copy of this little newspaper found its way into the hands of a faculty member, and since I had been unwise enough to put my name on it (a fault, some critics argue, of which I have still not been entirely cured), I was brought into the office. The sophisticated satirist had by that time reverted to what he really was: a fourteen-year-old kid who was shaking in his boots and wondering if he was going to get a suspension … what we called “a three-day vacation” in those dim days of 1964.

I wasn’t suspended. I was forced to make a number of apologies - they were warranted, but they still tasted like dog-dirt in my mouth - and spent a week in detention hall. And the guidance counselor arranged what he no doubt thought of as a more constructive channel for my talents. This was a job - contingent upon the editor’s approval - writing sports for the Lisbon Enterprise, a twelve-page weekly of the sort with which any small-town resident will be familiar. This editor was the man who taught me everything I know about writing in ten minutes. His name was John Gould - not the famed New England humorist or the novelist who wrote The Greenleaf Fires, but a relative of both, I believe.

He told me he needed a sports writer and we could “try each other out” if I wanted.

I told him I knew more about advanced algebra than I did sports.

Gould nodded and said, “You’ll learn.”

I said I would at least try to learn. Gould gave me a huge roll of yellow paper and promised me a wage of 1/2¢ per word. The first two pieces I wrote had to do with a high school basketball game in which a member of my school team broke the Lisbon High scoring record. One of these pieces was straight reportage. The second was a feature article.

I brought them to Gould the day after the game, so he’d have them for the paper, which came out Fridays. He read the straight piece, made two minor corrections, and spiked it. Then he started in on the feature piece with a large black pen and taught me all I ever needed to know about my craft. I wish I still had the piece - it deserves to be framed, editorial corrections and all - but I can remember pretty well how it looked when he had finished with it. Here’s an example:

(note: this is before the edit marks indicated on King’s original copy)

Last night, in the well-loved gymnasium of Lisbon High School, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom, known as “Bullet” Bob for both his size and accuracy, scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his knight-like quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon thinclads since 1953….

(after edit marks)

Last night, in the Lisbon High School gymnasium, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon’s basketball team since 1953….

When Gould finished marking up my copy in the manner I have indicated above, he looked up and must have seen something on my face. I think he must have thought it was horror, but it was not: it was revelation.

“I only took out the bad parts, you know,” he said. “Most of it’s pretty good.”

“I know,” I said, meaning both things: yes, most of it was good, and yes, he had only taken out the bad parts. “I won’t do it again.”

“If that’s true,” he said, “you’ll never have to work again. You can do this for a living.” Then he threw back his head and laughed.

And he was right; I am doing this for a living, and as long as I can keep on, I don’t expect ever to have to work again.



III. The Second Introduction

All of what follows has been said before. If you are interested enough in writing to be a purchaser of this magazine, you will have either heard or read all (or almost all) of it before. Thousands of writing courses are taught across the United States each year; seminars are convened; guest lecturers talk, then answer questions, then drink as many gin and tonics as their expense-fees will allow, and it all boils down to what follows.

I am going to tell you these things again because often people will only listen - really listen - to someone who makes a lot of money doing the thing he’s talking about. This is sad but true. And I told you the story above not to make myself sound like a character out of a Horatio Alger novel but to make a point: I saw, I listened, and I learned. Until that day in John Gould’s little office, I had been writing first drafts of stories which might run 2,500 words. The second drafts were apt to run 3,300 words. Following that day, my 2,500-word first drafts became 2,200-word second drafts. And two years after that, I sold the first one.

So here it is, with all the bark stripped off. It’ll take ten minutes to read, and you can apply it right away…if you listen.



IV. Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully

1.  BE TALENTED
This, of course, is the killer.  What is talent?  I can hear someone shouting, and here we are, ready to get into a discussion right up there with “what is the meaning of life?” for weighty pronouncements and total uselessness.  For the purposes of the beginning writer, talent may as well be defined as eventual success - publication and money.  If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Now some of you are really hollering.  Some of you are calling me one crass money-fixated creep.  And some of you are calling me bad names.  Are you calling Harold Robbins talented?  someone in one of the Great English Departments of America is screeching.  V.C. Andrews?  Theodore Dreiser?  Or what about you, you dyslexic moron?

Nonsense.  Worse than nonsense, off the subject.  We’re not talking about good or bad here.  I’m interested in telling you how to get your stuff published, not in critical judgments of who’s good or bad.  As a rule the critical judgments come after the check’s been spent, anyway.  I have my own opinions, but most times I keep them to myself.  People who are published steadily and are paid for what they are writing may be either saints or trollops, but they are clearly reaching a great many someones who want what they have.  Ergo, they are communicating.  Ergo, they are talented.  The biggest part of writing successfully is being talented, and in the context of marketing, the only bad writer is one who doesn’t get paid.  If you’re not talented, you won’t succeed.  And if you’re not succeeding, you should know when to quit.

When is that?  I don’t know.  It’s different for each writer.  Not after six rejection slips, certainly, nor after sixty.  But after six hundred?  Maybe.  After six thousand?  My friend, after six thousand pinks, it’s time you tried painting or computer programming.

Further, almost every aspiring writer knows when he is getting warmer - you start getting little jotted notes on your rejection slips, or personal letters…maybe a commiserating phone call.  It’s lonely out there in the cold, but there are encouraging voices…unless there is nothing in your words which warrants encouragement.  I think you owe it to yourself to skip as much of the self-illusion as possible.  If your eyes are open, you’ll know which way to go…or when to turn back.

2.  BE NEAT
Type.  Double-space.  Use a nice heavy white paper, never that erasable onion-skin stuff.  If you’ve marked up your manuscript a lot, do another draft.

3.  BE SELF-CRITICAL
If you haven’t marked up your manuscript a lot, you did a lazy job.  Only God gets things right the first time.  Don’t be a slob.

4.  REMOVE EVERY EXTRANEOUS WORD
You want to get up on a soapbox and preach?  Fine.  Get one and try your local park.  You want to write for money?  Get to the point.  And if you remove all the excess garbage and discover you can’t find the point, tear up what you wrote and start all over again…or try something new.

5.  NEVER LOOK AT A REFERENCE BOOK WHILE DOING A FIRST DRAFT You want to write a story?  Fine.  Put away your dictionary, your encyclopedias, your World Almanac, and your thesaurus.  Better yet, throw your thesaurus into the wastebasket.  The only things creepier than a thesaurus are those little paperbacks college students too lazy to read the assigned novels buy around exam time.  Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  You think you might have misspelled a word?  O.K., so here is your choice: either look it up in the dictionary, thereby making sure you have it right - and breaking your train of thought and the writer’s trance in the bargain - or just spell it phonetically and correct it later.  Why not?  Did you think it was going to go somewhere?  And if you need to know the largest city in Brazil and you find you don’t have it in your head, why not write in Miami, or Cleveland?  You can check it…but laterWhen you sit down to write, write.  Don’t do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

6.  KNOW THE MARKETS
Only a dimwit would send a story about giant vampire bats surrounding a high school to McCall’s.  Only a dimwit would send a tender story about a mother and daughter making up their differences on Christmas Eve to Playboy…but people do it all the time.  I’m not exaggerating; I have seen such stories in the slush piles of the actual magazines.  If you write a good story, why send it out in an ignorant fashion?  Would you send your kid out in a snowstorm dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top?  If you like science fiction, read the magazines.  If you want to write confession stories, read the magazines.  And so on.  It isn’t just a matter of knowing what’s right for the present story; you can begin to catch on, after awhile, to overall rhythms, editorial likes and dislikes, a magazine’s entire slant.  Sometimes your reading can influence the next story, and create a sale.

7.  WRITE TO ENTERTAIN
Does this mean you can’t write “serious fiction”?  It does not.  Somewhere along the line pernicious critics have invested the American reading and writing public with the idea that entertaining fiction and serious ideas do not overlap.  This would have surprised Charles Dickens, not to mention Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, and hundreds of others.  But your serious ideas must always serve your story, not the other way around.  I repeat: if you want to preach, get a soapbox.

8.  ASK YOURSELF FREQUENTLY, AM I HAVING FUN?”
The answer needn’t always be yes.  But if it’s always no, it’s time for a new project or a new career.

9.  HOW TO EVALUATE CRITICISM
Show your piece to a number of people - ten, let us say.  Listen carefully to what they tell you.  Smile and nod a lot.  Then review what was said very carefully.  If your critics are all telling you the same thing about some facet of your story - a plot twist that doesn’t work, a character who rings false, stilted narrative, or half a dozen other possibles - change that facet.  It doesn’t matter if you really liked that twist of that character; if a lot of people are telling you something is wrong with you piece, it is.  If seven or eight of them are hitting on that same thing, I’d still suggest changing it.  But if everyone - or even most everyone - is criticizing something different, you can safely disregard what all of them say.

10.  OBSERVE ALL RULES FOR PROPER SUBMISSION
Return postage, self-addressed envelope, all of that.

11.  AN AGENT?  FORGET IT.  FOR NOW
Agents get 10% of monies earned by their clients.  10% of nothing is nothing.  Agents also have to pay the rent.  Beginning writers do not contribute to that or any other necessity of life.  Flog your stories around yourself.  If you’ve done a novel, send around query letters to publishers, one by one, and follow up with sample chapters and/or the manuscript complete.  And remember Stephen King’s First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don’t need one until you’re making enough for someone to steal…and if you’re making that much, you’ll be able to take your pick of good agents.

12.  IF IT’S BAD, KILL IT
When it comes to people, mercy killing is against the law.  When it comes to fiction, it is the law.



That’s everything you need to know.  And if you listened, you can write everything and anything you want.  Now I believe I will wish you a pleasant day and sign off.

My ten minutes are up.

The Dos and Don’ts of Beginning a Novel:  An Illustrated Guide

I’ve had a lot of asks lately for how to begin a book (or how not to), so here’s a post on my general rules of thumb for story openers and first chapters!  

Please note, these are incredibly broad generalizations;  if you think an opener is right for you, and your beta readers like it, there’s a good chance it’s A-OK.  When it comes to writing, one size does not fit all.  (Also note that this is for serious writers who are interested in improving their craft and/or professional publication, so kindly refrain from the obligatory handful of comments saying “umm, screw this, write however you want!!”)

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

Don’t: 

1.  Open with a dream. 

“Just when Mary Sue was sure she’d disappear down the gullet of the monstrous, winged pig, she woke up bathed in sweat in her own bedroom.”

What?  So that entire winged pig confrontation took place in a dream and amounts to nothing?  I feel so cheated! 

Okay, not too many people open their novels with monstrous swine, but you get the idea:  false openings of any kind tend to make the reader feel as though you’ve wasted their time, and don’t usually jump into more meaty action of the story quickly enough.  It makes your opening feel lethargic and can leave your audience yawning.

Speaking of… 

2.  Open with a character waking up.  

This feels familiar to most of us, but unless your character is waking up to a zombie attack or an alien invasion, it’s generally a pretty easy recipe to get your story to drag.

No one picks a book to hear how your character brushes their teeth in the morning or what they’d like to have for dinner.  As a general rule of thumb, we read to explore things we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience.  And cussing out the alarm clock is not one of them.  

Granted, there are exceptions if your writing is exceptionally engaging, but in most cases it just sets a slow pace that will bore you and your reader to death and probably cause you to lose interest in your book within the first ten pages.  

3.  Bombard with exposition.  

Literary characters aren’t DeviantArt OCs.  And the best way to convey a character is not, in my experience, to devote the first ten pages to describing their physical appearance, personality, and backstory.  Develop your characters, and make sure their fully fleshed out – my tips on how to do so here – but you don’t need to dump all that on the reader before they have any reason to care about them.  Let the reader get to know the character gradually, learn about them, and fall in love with them as they would a person:  a little bit at a time.   

This is iffy when world building is involved, but even then it works best when the delivery feels organic and in tune with the book’s overall tone.  Think the opening of the Hobbit or Good Omens.

4.  Take yourself too seriously.

Your opener (and your novel in general) doesn’t need to be intellectually pretentious, nor is intellectual pretense the hallmark of good literature.  Good literature is, generally speaking, engaging, well-written, and enjoyable.  That’s it.  

So don’t concern yourself with creating a poetic masterpiece of an opening line/first chapter.  Just make one that’s – you guessed it – engaging, well-written, and enjoyable. 

5.  Be unintentionally hilarious.

Utilizing humor in your opening line is awesome, but check yourself to make sure your readers aren’t laughing for all the wrong reasons (this is another reason why betas are important.)  

These examples of the worst opening lines in published literature will show you what I mean – and possibly serve as a pleasant confidence booster as well: 

“As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.”

– Ali Kawashima

“She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.”

– Jeanne Villa

“As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me.”

– Mary E. Patrick

“Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul.”

– Howie McClennon

If these can get published, so can you.

Do:

1.  You know that one really interesting scene you’re itching to write?  Start with that.

Momentum is an important thing in storytelling.  If you set a fast, infectious beat, you and your reader will be itching to dance along with it.  

Similarly, slow, drowsy openers tend to lead to slow, drowsy stories that will put you both to sleep.

I see a lot of posts joking about “that awkward moment when you sit down to write but don’t know how to get to that one scene you actually wanted to write about.”  Write that scene!  If it’s at all possible, start off with it.  If not, there are still ways you can build your story around the scenes you actually want to write.

Keep in mind:  if you’re bored, your reader will almost certainly be bored as well.  So write what you want to write.  Write what makes you excited.  Don’t hold off until later, when it “really gets good.”  Odds are, the reader will not wait around that long, and you’re way more likely to become disillusioned with your story and quit.  If a scene is dragging, cut it out.  Burn bridges, find a way around.  Live, dammit. 

2.  Engage the reader.

There are several ways to go about this.  You can use wit and levity, you can present a question, and you can immerse the reader into the world you’ve created.  Just remember to do so with subtlety, and don’t try too hard;  believe me, it shows.  

Here are some of my personal favorite examples of engaging opening lines: 

“In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." 

– Douglas Adams, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

"It was the day my grandmother exploded.”

– Iain Banks, Crow Road.

“A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of the a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a grand-new building with the painter’s scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed.”

– Vikram Chandra, Sacred Games.

See what I’m saying?  They pull you in and do not let go.

3.  Introduce us to a main character (but do it right.)

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

– Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

This is one of my favorite literary openings of all time, because right off the bat we know almost everything we need to know about Shadow’s character (i.e. that he’s rugged, pragmatic, and loving.)   

Also note that it doesn’t tell us everything about Shadow:  it presents questions that make us want to read more.  How did Shadow get into prison?  When will he get out?  Will he reunite with his wife?  There’s also more details about Shadow slowly sprinkled in throughout the book, about his past, personality, and physical appearance.  This makes him feel more real and rounded as a character, and doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.

Obviously, I’m not saying you should rip off American Gods.  You don’t even need to include a hooker eating a guy with her cooch if you don’t want to.  

But this, and other successful openers, will give you just enough information about the main character to get the story started;  rarely any good comes from infodumping, and allowing your reader to get to know your character gradually will make them feel more real.   

4.  Learn from the greats.

My list of my favorite opening lines (and why I love them) is right here.

5.  Keep moving.  

The toughest part of being a writer is that it’s a rare and glorious occasion when you’re actually satisfied with something you write.  And to add another layer of complication, what you like best probably won’t be what your readers will like best. 

If you refuse to keep moving until you have the perfect first chapter, you will never write anything beyond your first chapter.  

Set a plan, and stick to it:  having a daily/weekly word or page goal can be extremely helpful, especially when you’re starting out.  Plotting is a lifesaver (some of my favorite posts on how to do so here, here, and here.)

Keep writing, keep moving, and rewrite later.  If you stay in one place for too long, you’ll never keep going. 

Best of luck, and happy writing.  <3

IT’S GETTING KINDA HOT IN HERE

*I wrote this with the sun and mars signs in mind*

Aries: It was a cool summer night. “You’re crazy.” I said as you pulled me towards an abandoned building. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna check it out.” We wandered through the decaying concrete, graffiti on every wall possible. I was so scared but I was trying hard not to lose my cool. After all you were absolutely loving this. There was a loud creak and I jumped, grabbing your arm. “Babe calm down, look at me.” You said soothingly, rubbing my shoulders. We made out there in the middle of the building; in the middle of the night. Your kisses enthralling, and for a moment I forgot about everything else. The creak came again but louder, “Okay, fuck this.” You laughed, grabbing my hand and we ran as fast as we could out of there and into the summer air.

Taurus: It was pitch black, our kisses growing more urgent as you fumbled around trying to undo my buttons. “I can’t see anything.” you chuckled. I sparked my lighter and you looked around for a candle, finding one and lighting it with my flame; never taking your eyes off me. You undid my pants quickly with a smirk on your face and threw them dramatically across the room. Your lips finding mine again, making up for the loss of contact. “You are so fucking hot” you whispered, running your hands down my body, a trace of goosebumps forming on my skin. You pushed in slowly, moaning as you felt my heat. You buried your face in my hair I lost all focus. I just held on for dear life as the candlelight flickered erratically on the ceiling.

Gemini: Your bedroom was covered with so many posters I couldn’t see what colour it was painted. You had not one, but two lava lamps, one purple and one orange. We were laying on your floor, listening to Frank Ocean on vinyl, “Sometimes I think about faking my own death, and leaving the parts I don’t like about myself behind.” you said somberly, drawing lazy circles on my stomach with your finger. “Where would you go?” I asked. You propped your head up, your adorable face flushed purple in the light from the lamp. “Anywhere but here,” you said pulling me even closer, “only as long as I could take you with me though.” I ran my finger across your bottom lip and you bit it, we giggled quietly, then sighed. You kissed me so deeply, like an ocean tide that ebbs and flows. We made love, slow love right there on your bedroom floor. Every now and then, when things are quiet, parts of that night come back in flashes when I close my eyes.

Cancer: Snow had been coming down like crazy all day and everybody was staying inside. We had made the heroic journey to the store to get the bare necessities. Popcorn, paprika Pringles and those fruity toffees. Now we were cuddled in an abundance of duvets and pillows watching Spirited Away. “Are you cold?” you asked softly. “No I’m actually really warm.” I said adjusting the pillows behind me. Your eyes shot around the room, you bit your lip as your gaze landed on me. “What?” I asked when I noticed you staring. You grinned, “I’m kinda cold.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I lifted my blanket and pulled you into my cocoon. Your hand slipped under my shirt as you got comfortable. “Oh my god, your hand is freezing.” I shrieked. “Warm me up then.” you teased as you kissed me gently.

Leo: “You are such a goddamn hypocrite, why are you being so possessive?” I yelled at you. “Because I fucking love you!” you screamed even louder. My eyes shot wide as the words left your mouth. I felt like I was about to faint. Like everything I’d known for the past two months had been wrong. I put my hand on my forehead and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Since when?” I asked warily. You sat down next to me, leaving a little space between us, not wanting to scare me away. “Since the day I met you.” you said more gently. I shook my head in confusion. All these months I’d been crushing on you, telling myself I was a fool for thinking you could ever feel the same. “Look, I should go.” you said standing up, I grabbed your arm quickly and pulled you to me. I kissed you with my eyes open, I didn’t believe it but my eyes couldn’t lie. You picked me up and put me in your lap. “We can’t do this.” I whispered into your neck. You grabbed me even tighter, not ready to let me go. “Tell me to stop,” you breathed kissing down my collarbone, your finger toying with the band of my panties, “just tell me to stop.” Your eyes searched mine for an answer. Your finger inching further, grazing down the lace in front. I moaned into your mouth, giving you the answer you needed. The one we both needed.

Virgo: My phone buzzed next to my laptop. It was almost midnight and my chemistry notes were making less sense than ever. “Hi baby.” I half sighed as I answered. “Where are you?” you asked. “On my bed, what’s up?” I could hear your breathing through the phone, “Nothing, just thinkin’ about you. ‘Bout us.” you said cheekily. I closed my eyes as that familiar lightness hit my stomach. “Oh really, what are we doing?” I teased. You half groaned on the other line, “Thinking about your skin, running my tongue up your spine, and swirling it around your-” Now I was the one who moaned. “Can you come pick me up?” I panted. You laughed, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Libra: It was my first birthday in the new city and I was feeling more homesick than ever. You knocked on my door and told me to get dressed while you poured two shots of tequila. You took me on an adventure, stumbling through a regal museum slightly tipsy. I was laughing at this modern piece, you asked why I didn’t get it, I said the shape was a bit funky. From behind you wrapped your arms around my waist, pressing yourself up against me, “I think it’s a quite stimulating.” you whispered with a sly grin, and my entire body shivered. Then you took me to dinner, your eyes staring into mine the whole time and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. It was like moving between worlds, reality changing from hour to hour. I don’t even remember what we talked about, only what I was feeling. We couldn’t even last until desert, our minds running away from us. As soon as I opened the door to my place your lips crashed onto mine, and for the first time that night I felt like I could breathe.

Scorpio: “Do you wanna wrestle?” I asked you with a wicked grin on my face. “I’m not gonna wrestle you.” You said not taking your eyes of the TV. I jumped on you and the Xbox controller went flying. “You asked for it.” You growled as you started fighting me back. I knew I had no chance, I just wanted to get you all fired up. Before I knew it I was on my back, hands pinned down above my head and your strong thighs straddling my torso. “Who’s the winner?” you demanded. “You’re the winner daddy.” I purred, reaching up and biting your lip. Your expression shifted, your eyes going from that watery blue to devilish dark in a split second, and I knew I was in for a ride.

Sagittarius: It was 3 a.m. I knew I had school in the morning but at this point I didn’t care. Cruising around the city in your parents BMW, the bass in the sound system making our blood vibrate. Like it hadn’t been already. We didn’t say anything, we couldn’t. We couldn’t afford to lose control. Then L$D by A$AP Rocky came on. My hands were shaking in my lap, your knuckles white from squeezing the steering wheel so hard. The engine purred as you drove faster, now with a purpose, pulling into the beach parking lot. The car came to an abrupt stop and I couldn’t take this any longer. You moved your seat back as I jumped over the console. You kissed me like you were drowning and I was air. All that tension finally snapping like firecrackers as the music pumped through our bodies. Your strong arms lifted me up and pushed my dress up my thighs, the windows fogging up. I could feel your biceps trembling under the palm of my hand, and thought how could something that felt so right be so wrong?

Capricorn: The whole day had had a weird, electrifying feel to it. Now I knew why. We were standing out there on the balcony, face to face in the middle of the crowd. “Kiss me.” you said nonchalantly. “You kiss me.” I incited. You took a long drag of the joint, gently pressing your lips to mine as you blew the smoke into my mouth. I just stared back at you, blowing the smoke out again calmly, your fingers still caressing the back of my neck. You almost smiled but stopped it midway by biting your lip. I grabbed your shirt and pulled you to me. I kissed you like it was the last time. You pulled back slightly to catch your breath, “Wanna get out of here?”

Aquarius: The night I first met you. I didn’t wanna go out but my friends convinced me. The bar was so packed but somehow I got to the front of the stage. There you were, and that cherry red guitar, in your own world. I remember I couldn’t take my eyes of your fingers when you played. I didn’t even notice you were looking at me until the song was over. You laughed and playfully tugged on your shirt. I didn’t get why but then I noticed we were both wearing the same Led Zeppelin shirt. When the show was over you found me so quickly I knew you had been watching me. “I feel like this was meant to be.” you said leaning up against the bar. I took you in, your knuckles had little cuts on them and your black jeans were splattered with green paint. “I’m not really in the mood to make friends tonight.” I said, taking a sip of my beer. You ran your hand teasingly through that dirty blonde DiCaprio hair, “How ‘bout we just stay strangers then?” I knew I’d already lost this fight. The next thing I remember is literally falling into your foyer, your lips on my neck as I moaned in your ear. You held me so tight, pulling my shirt up ever so slightly just to put your skin on mine. I pushed you down, taking my shirt all they way off while I straddled your hips, and you looked at me like I had just discovered fire. When it was all over you grabbed my face with both your hands, “What’s your name?” you breathed. I smirked as I put my clothes back on, “I thought we were gonna stay strangers.” I was halfway home when I realized that the shirt I was wearing wasn’t mine, it was yours.

Pisces: The record had finished all the way through. That needle scratch sound from the record player filled the silence in the room. I was in your arms, tangled in bedsheets and your sticky bodyparts. You grazing my back lightly with your fingers. “I need to pee.” I said trying untangle myself limb by limb. Your arms tightened around me, “No, you can’t go.” you pouted. I giggled and wiggled around in your embrace. “I have to pee, I’ll be quick.” You pressed your forehead against mine. “Promise?” you said softly. I pecked your lips three times. “I promise.”

I adore the duality of Tony Stark. Not the secret identity thing, but this idea, one that you get to see more of in the comics than the films (though IM1 did this a lot): the idea that there’s this aloof, cold businessman who puts on perfectly-tailored suits and snarks his way through a room and destroys opponents without a thought using an offhand quip, and resorts to pragmatism when nobody else will, and wears his playboy persona on his sleeve, and knows all the easiest ways to blow up a person or a world, and has a bit of a god complex, and used to be called the Merchant of Death -

- but he’s also the guy who wanders around like a zombie before the first coffee of the day, and works with his hands, and spends his time with mad-scientist hair and wearing scruffy vests covered in oil because he got caught up in his hard work and his passion for creation. He’s the guy who will do anything for his friends and makes silly jokes over breakfast and wholeheartedly, dorkily loves the Avengers, from the concept of it to the people in it. He falls hard for the people he loves, and is incredibly lonely. He’s the guy who goes to orphanages and holds babies when he can’t sleep, and adores kids. He’s the guy who cries easily, never thinks he’s doing enough, struggles with alcoholism and chronic illnesses, and desperately doesn’t want to be his father, no matter how much the media pins the opposite on him. He loves the world and the people in it, even when he kind of hates them, and is constantly working to make things better. He remembers his employees’ names and asks after their families. He tries to see the good in people and goes for rehabilitative over punitive justice wherever possible, even when it comes to villains who have actively tried to kill him. He’s known for how much he cares, exhaustingly, about everything. He’s the man who honestly has a good heart and is constantly trying to reach out, and often gets laughed at for his idealism. He’s a man who’s so often in pain, but tries to use it to improve the world rather than letting it destroy him.

Sure, I like his ruthlessness and some of his coolness, but I also love the guy who unironically adores classic Star Trek and makes absentminded Dune and Arthurian references and thinks equations are cool; who makes mental notes of his friends’ favourite breakfasts and takes young heroes under his wing and is semi-jokingly horrified when one doesn’t have a file system. Who goes “but why does that do that?” and wants to take everything apart and fix it so it can help people, and honest to god believes in a better future. 

(The movies are subtler about that side of him, but it’s still there. I mean, as a little thing, I’m always grateful they let RDJ put some of his own love of classic and sometimes silly rock into Tony Stark. Not just because I share that music taste, but I always like characters who are nerdy and wholehearted about at least something. But the bigger stuff, too: the between-the-lines moments: the naming his bots, the “here, have my whole R&D lab/my company/my home/my heart if you want it, why do you look so surprised?” That’s all straight from the comics. It’s just done slightly more snarkily and with a slightly shorter, brown-eyed Tony rather than a tall, blue-eyed one.)

But it’s still a very bad idea to piss him off.

He’s both. I love that he’s both.

matt and shiro at the garrison
  • shiro introduces matt to new students with the wrong name just to see how long they can get away with it
    • shiro: “hey this is my friend boiled chicken” matt: “what’s up”
    • shiro: “this is my friend undercooked spaghetti. he looks 17 but he’s actually 36 and was held back 19 years” 
    • new student: “your name is…broccoli? are you sure about that?” matt: “are you calling me a liar?” 
  • shiro throws juice boxes into the trash can and yells “KOBE!” but they never get in 
  • matt: “why are you crying?” shiro: “i got an A- in this test. i studied so hard as well!!”
    • matt looking at his C+ that he was happy with: “haha yeah…sucks…”
  • shiro: “sir would you like a breath mint?” iverson: “why?”
    • shiro: “cos the only thing out of your mouth is shit”
  • on a dare matt goes into the gym for a school assembly, wearing nothing but boxers with bejewelled letters on the back spelling “M A T T H O L T”
  • iverson: “i drink to forget but i always remember”
  • early on in their friendship, shiro goes into matt’s room to get a textbook and sees the walls plastered with ‘Campbells® Green Pea Soup’ posters. he’s so terrified that he never mentions it again
  • the first time shiro and matt meet each other:
    • matt: my name is matthew with a ‘b’ and i’ve been afraid of insects my entire l-
    • shiro: stop stop stop, where?
    • matt: hmm?
    • shiro: where’s the ‘b’?
    • matt: tHeRe’S a bEE?
  • shiro always walks into the wrong classroom and doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he just says ‘haha, forgot my…calculator…’, picks up a random’s kid’s lunch box, and walks out 
  • shiro: i’m feeling a little rebellious today!! (: so i’m not going to tie my laces, i’m only going to do 46/50 of the maths equations assigned to us, and i’ll mess up my entire presentation!! by typing it in comic sans haha
  • matt scrunching up the worksheet he was given and putting it in his mouth, chewing slowly: this is how i feel about homework sir

Once upon a time there was a beast and a curse and an enchantress, which I’m sure surprises nobody. Better put it this way: once upon a time a girl was locked in a castle, and she begged so hard not to be the sleeping princess that she became the beast. That’s more like it, anyway — fairytale logic. You get what you wish for, but it isn’t what you want.

“Don’t let it be a prince,” she begged, “don’t let it be a kiss I can’t see coming and can’t refuse.”

Enchantresses, wicked fairies, call them what you will — they’re all the same story in the end. No one will remember if this enchantress began the story by giving the princess a naming day gift of a hundred year sleep once the tale switches to another track. The point is that she didn’t mind granting this one favor. Maybe it was an issue of statistics. Maybe she thought finding a girl who would fall in love with a princess-beast would be harder than finding a prince to kiss her, make her curse harder to lift (considering the probabilities of who might wander onto the cursed castle grounds). As if girls who love girls don’t know they have to fight harder to begin with, as if they won’t cross miles for each other.

So maybe there was a spindle once, but now there is a rose, and a girl who wanders through a thorn maze unable to find her way. This is the wrong story, she thinks to herself, clutching her leather satchel tighter, but she doesn’t know what the right story is.

“Let me through?” She suggests to the roses that grow squeezed between their own thorns along the twisting hedges. “I’m looking for the love of my life. I’m in a hurry.”

She’s met only with the rustling of leaves and haughty scoffs. “No prince ever found his true love by being in a hurry.”

“I’m not a prince. I’m a shoemaker, and I’m lost. Can you let me through to the castle?” It rises dark and spindly overhead, but though it seems so close she can see no way out of the maze.

Laughter, echoing through the hedge corridors, and then something dark prowls around the corner and half-crouches there, hidden as much as possible under a hooded cloak. Shining talons dig into the earth under their feet.

The beast says, “A shoemaker? You really are in the wrong story.” Her voice is gravely and doesn’t match the laughter. That must have been the roses as well.

“I have glass shoes,” the girl says, staring at those claws. “Or I can make something sturdier, if you give me time.”

“I don’t have enough time of my own to be giving it away,” the beast says, bored, and gestures around them. Even now the hedges seem to be encroaching further into the maze’s corridors, the roses growing and multiplying. One day soon, the girl realizes, the maze will entirely fill in, and the castle will be blocked off.

She’s clever, and she’s brave, and those are the two most important things for a fairytale heroine to be — besides pretty, but that’s easy enough to fake with the right kind of smile. “Then don’t give it to me,” she says, “we can share.”

So the beast reaches out one arm, fingers tapering into knives that she curls so gently they don’t more than scratch the girl’s skin — and the shoemaker takes it with an earnest gravity, looking right under her cloak’s shadow and into her eyes.

The beast’s eyes are unnaturally big and inhumanly shaped, but they’re not cruel, and in fairytales the evil beasts always have cruel eyes. The girl bobs a polite curtsey, using the beast’s arm for balance, and sees those eyes narrow slightly with amusement.

They walk through the twists and turns of the maze to the castle, the beast bent slightly so as not to tower over her guest. “About those shoes,” she says, when they reach the front doors, golden light spilling from the entrance hall and shining through the delicately carved details in the ancient wood.

“In the morning,” the girl says, and because she clearly has not even entertained the thought that she might be argued with, the beast cannot summon an objection. She watches the girl follow an unfurling carpet along the floor to a dusty guest room with no hesitation, as if every dwelling should be as accommodating.

And in the way of fairytales, that’s enough to make the beast fall in love — a disregard for every unspoken rule, a smile that glimmers in the darkness. Should I tell you that the moment the girl arrives at breakfast the next morning the beast can barely look away from her for a moment, that she stays by the girl’s side as she produces leather and tools from nowhere and searches floor by floor for the perfect room to work in — or should I let you imagine for yourself?

Gradually the hood is pulled back, eventually the cloak discarded altogether; they sit in patches of sunlight together to eat lunch, staring down at the maze below. Roses and leaves devouring each other and everything in slow motion.

“If you stay too long you’ll be trapped here,” the beast warns, anxious when the girls shows no concern in her usual solemn air as she watches the maze devolve.

“I haven’t finished your shoes,” is all she says. Each new morning she promises that in return for this latest night of hospitality she is making the shoes more beautiful, and each evening that she has not finished she stays another night.

Sometimes when the girl has gone to bed the beast sneaks back into the workroom, in agony over whether to rip out the stitches or finish the work for her.

Leave before you are trapped here forever.

Stay here forever because I love you.

Each night she does not touch the shoes and returns to sleep herself, and in the morning the girl thanks her for letting her stay, as if the beast could ever turn her out, and promises to repay the night with even more beautiful shoes.

And each morning the beast says, “That’s fair,” and wishes she could find different words, the words she means to say.

The maze grows. The roses are larger than hands with fully spread fingers. The corridors are barely large enough for a small girl to squeeze through. In the dawn light it is lit gently and slightly pink, but the sight of it is painful. The wide window of the workroom shows the progress the maze had made alarmingly clearly, and it’s only then that the beast wonders if that was the appeal of this room over all the others.

The girl appears silently in the doorway as she has for the past week. “Thank you for letting me stay last night. I’ll repay you—”

“No,” the beast says, her voice alarmed and rough. “No. You are leaving now.”

“Now?”

“Before you can’t leave. You must go now.” Her throat is closing up and her voice growing thicker with each word. They’re not the words she wants to say.

The girl cocks her head, a curiously nonjudgmental silence. Finally she crosses the room to her worktable and picks up the shoes, turning them around and around again. They’re boots, really, and almost comically big in her hands. The beast cannot tell if they are as beautiful as she was promised, because the girl is smiling now and that eclipses all else.

“Are they finished?” She asks.

“Yes,” the beast says, unable to choke out anything more.

The girl leaves the boots on the table and swings her satchel, out of nowhere, across her shoulders. “Thank you for sharing your time,” she says. For a moment she holds the beast’s hand in both of hers, and then she’s gone. From the window the beast can watch her leave; for all her trouble getting there, she finds her way out with ease.

She leaves the workroom and doesn’t return all day.

Do beasts grieve? She hadn’t thought they could. She hadn’t grieved when the curse was settled on her; she hadn’t grieved at the idea that it might never lift once the maze finally knit itself together during the coming night. But the loneliness she feels now was different. The absence of the shoemaker is something worse. She’d had no choice in her fate, but she had told the girl to leave. This misery she’d brought on herself.

At night she wanders back into the workroom out of habit, sleepless and hopeless and refusing to glance out the window. Has it happened yet? Is she truly trapped now, or will it happen in five minutes, an hour, at dawn? She stares at the boots for an indeterminable amount of time before she thinks of putting them on.

She does so only because she thinks the girl wanted her to wear them; left to her own devices she might have destroyed them with as little thought as she now gives to slipping them on. They are big enough, and the fasteners are easy to close even with her unwieldy claws. Designs etched into the leather yet invisible in the darkness spiral and branch out beneath the thumb-pad she runs over them. Vines, she thinks. Roses.

A tear slips out, or three, as she stands in her beautiful new boots and smells leather and rotting roses. I want her back, she thinks, even as a wave of thankfulness rises up from the deepness in her, thankfulness that the shoemaker will never feel this trapped. I want to go to her, she revises. Since she doesn’t know how, she goes to leave the workroom instead.

One step and darkness is rushing past her. The rough scrap of stone walls, the rustle of leaves and the tearing of thorns, night air soft all around her. She has stepped not into the hallway but out of the castle, beyond the maze, into the star-dappled night.

“What did you do?” She asks, alarmed, almost before she sees the shoemaker sitting cross-legged on the grassy hill, as still as if she has been waiting all day and night. “What happened?”

“I found what I came for,” the girl says calmly. “And I made her shoes.”

Time to float - Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: Time to float

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompts: If you’re taking requests for Bill Skarsgård can you write one where the reader is a famous actress and also little Jackson Scott’s big sister (the kid who plays Georgie) so she attends the premiere with him wearing a stunning dress as usual, she meets Bill who is awestruck bc hes a huge fan with a massive crush on her, the kids who played in the movie myb tease him a little bit, and she’s flattered and thinks hes adorable idk i like this idea 
— 
YN is Jackson older sister and Bill is her fan!so when he finds out he tries his best to get Jackson to introduce them,and when he does,Jackson can’t help and teels big sis that Bill has a crush on her and he’s just super adorkable to admit! later they all say that on an interview,and the kids love to make fun of them

“Jackson please don’t run! Be careful, sweetie, you’re gonna-” you stopped yourself when you heard you little brother giggle and you realized what you’d just said “Oh gosh I am turning into mom!” you breathed out, eyes wide.

Your little brother ran back to you, wrapping his small arms around your legs and you looked down to be met with his adorable smile “Yes you are! But I am always going to love you the most! More than mom and dad, and more than anyone else in the world!” he said and you giggled.

“And you will always be the number one man in my heart, JR!” you leaned down to pick him up and kiss his cheek as he wrapped his arms around your neck with a big smile.

“Even before dad?” he asked and you grinned, nodding your head.

“But we’re not gonna tell him that, because it’s gonna break his heart.” you pouted, and he giggled.

“You bet it will!” your father piped in, saying with a serious nod and you laughed with Jackson as he kissed your cheek before going to help your mother.

“And… even more than him?” he said with what was supposed to be a smirk on his face and you chuckled, tickling his belly.

“You sly little tease!” you grinned as he squirmed in your arms “Alright, maybe I really do like him a little bit but-”

He rolled his eyes so dramatically at you and shook his head “A lot!”

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✧ *.🎃Samhain Solitary Rituals🎃*✧

As the air grows cooler and the winds begin to howl and rip the dead leaves from trees, we know the veil is thin and Samhain is near! After the equinox, which was equal parts night and day, Samhain marks the time of the wheel that we descend into the darker half of the year. It’s this time of the year that communication and connection to the spirit world is a lot easier and we’ve grown accustomed to making wards to protect the home from malevolent energy in the form of jack o lanterns and lights. On a positive note it is a time to leave out treats and foods for passed away loved ones and to remember them. It’s the final harvest full of well spiced comfort autumn foods as well as a ‘New Year’ since it’s a sabbat that honors the natural cycle of death and sees it as a form of transformation.

A lot of us witches practice alone and have our own solitary rituals for each sabbat that we observe (or the ones we’ve created just for ourselves that we observe alone!) Like any solitary eclectic witch I do things my own different way but some of these things might line up with others practices. I do refer to some of the equinoxes/solstices/crossquarters by their celtic sabbat names but I celebrate them in a secular animist way and treat the wheel of the year I celebrate as more of an argrarian cycle and celebrating nature. I use sabbat names as a point of reference and also people that do celebrate these witches sabbats more traditionally might find value in my personal practice!  Here is my personal correspondences post and my personal samhain tag!

When I am alone and casting spells a lot of it is visualization/intent so my solitary rituals are more like activities I like to do then specifically casting a spell. If I am doing a spell with an activity based on it a lot would be listening to music to get in the mood and focusing on a candle while visualizing for a period of time! Eves are also important to my celebration as I like to stay up until midnight and cast a spell then!


Hallow’s Eve

Tuesday October 31st 2017

  • Dressing up in your most witchiest
    Ok every year I’m a witch, whether it’s just a lazy witch in my black clothing or an over the top kitschy witch with colorful hair and electric colored make up, but I just like to have these looks casually on Halloween day cause its amazing and a chance for me to be myself!

  • Pumpkin Carving!
    If you haven’t already tonight is definitely the night for pumpkin carving! Write sigils inside your pumpkin for protective magic. I love this DIY for a pumpkin indoor lantern cause it shows how to rub spices like cinnamon and nutmeg inside to achieve that sent of pumpkin pie in the home. Use electric candles instead of flame if you want it to last the night since the flame’s heat will cook the pumpkin.

  • Mini Pumpkin Tea lights
    Also an easier alternative to carving if you don’t have much time. Even gutting the mini pumpkins takes a lot of time for me but doing so and filling them with a black tea light will make an excellent centerpiece either for your altar or feast table!

  • Making Candy Apples
    I associate candy coated sweet red apples with halloween (and caramel/maple sugar on granny smith for mabon) and I love how you can make the candy various colors like a poisonous black or vibrant blood red!

  • Setting sweets aside for spirits
    So everyone has spirits that chill with them and it would be great to show appreciation for the positive spirits that surround you. Set some sweets on a dish and make a tiny altar for them in your space.

  • Enjoying sweets while doing crafts!
    Enjoy some of that halloween candy for yourself! My favorite treats on this night are chocolate coated donuts, reeses cups, cider sugar donuts, red licorice and apple cider.

  • Watching a spooky or Halloween themed movie
    Or halloween themed film. My favorite will always be the 80s halloween special The Worst Witch with Tim curry. I watch it religiously.

  • Spirit Contact
    I wouldn’t suggest using an Ouija board or doing any communication with spirits if you have never had experience. They can be rude and harass you, YET if you are experienced and know how to guard yourself, then this is a great night to play with an ouija board! (PS I think Ouija Girl has a great informative blog about working with ouija boards. Here is her FAQ page. But still, it’s always better to do work with a medium or someone with experience than trying to figure it out alone).

    A safer experience for someone with no spirit communication experience is attending a seance! In NYC there are a few mediums that hold seances monthly. I love the one at Catland in Brooklyn, the mediums that host the event there are fantastic. It might be hard to attend an authentic one on Halloween night since a lot of people will want to just try to cash in on creating a 'spooky’ experience, but if you really want, try to get in contact with mediums and ask if they host any seance events. Important to know: usually the spirits that chill around you are guides and family and they might have more info to give you then you might be ready for. My first seance I really don’t know what to do with the info given to me but I really hope I make the best of it and don’t mess anything up.

  • Witches Flight
    This is like an extension of the previous point where if you have never done this before just completely disregard this suggestion cause flying is dangerous. For many years witches have flown on Halloween night to other realms using flying ointments.

  • Protective Magic:
    Finally, protect yourself from the high spirit activity with crystals like black tourmaline, obsidian and spirit quartz. Do protective spells for any cats you see or live with especially black cats since they tend to be targets.
      

Midnight Spell:

  • This sabbat honors the natural cycle of death and transformation. Focus on what you want to transform in your life. Magic on this night is very powerful so think about it before hand and make sure it is what you want for if you ask to transform something, you might find a lot of endings that suddenly occur in your life to lead to the transformations that you want. (There was a conversation on here I can no longer find but it was put  really nicely that death is not just some simple 'transformative’ process it can be very drastic, often very uncomfortable and if you are not ready though you ask for something to change, you might not be ready for the new obstacles that will be thrown at you. Just know that you will be ready for what you ask for.)
  • Some spell activities can be shuffling the deck visualizing what you want to change and then finding the death card and seeing the card that follows will be your answer to seek how you can further bring that transformation closer.
  • I’m a mixologist and enjoy working with liquor for rituals. I find fire to be a great transformer yet instead of burning something I prefer blessing a shot of whiskey or absinthe with my intent then taking it like liquid fire to transform me within. If you do not like alcohol or can not drink it for whatever reason you can perform this with hot apple cider instead!



Samhain Day

Wednesday, November 1st 2017

  • Upon the day I like to dress in complete black. My makeup is very dark and I wear long black dresses and veils. Depending on how you want to honor the dead, dress how you wish.

  • Gravesweeping
    Visit your loved ones on this day and leave flowers and gifts on their grave! If you want you can also visit any cemetery, yet make sure to practice good graveyard etiquette. Leave a penny by the gate, do not sit or lean on any tomb stones, of course don’t take anything from a grave. Be respectful of those whom are resting.

  • Close Your Garden
    This is a time to close the garden for the winter to come. Harvest the last fruits and herbs and bring in any delicate potted plants within the home.

  • Shadow Work
    Especially if you are looking to transform some aspect of your life this is a great time to do shadow work and look within if you are creating any obstacles for yourself. Get to know your shadow self, get to solve problems together. This is also an excellent day for divination and scrying.

  • Meditation and Energy Work by the base of a tree
    I love to do energy work on the days of the sabbats yet as the earth grows colder, the roots dig deeper and the world goes into hibernation. Sit at the base of a tree preferably with thick roots and feel it’s connection to the cold earth beneath you. Dig into yourself and see what needs to rest and what needs to be healed.

Evening
Celebratory Feast

  • So in many practices people like to host a dumb supper but instead I like to have a lively feast where everyone will share a story about someone they loved that passed away or a story of an ancestor in their family. At the end of each tale we toast our glasses to them! (And pour a little bit of drink to them or set aside a snack if they are not into alcohol.)

  • Hold a feast of rich comfort foods that are spiced and sweet like sweet potato mash, candied brown beans, pumpkin bread, smokey bourbon pulled pork or maple glazed beef brisket, roasted carrots and beets and (I personally love to make baked mac and cheese but its a fall comfort soul food for me). My Samhain feast is abundant with fall soul foods and sweet roots and spices. (here is a fantasy feast post and my personal feast post from last year)

  • If you are alone (as this is a solitary post), make a few fall dishes you deeply enjoy or cook the favorites of loved relatives that have passed away, eat some sweets and set out some offerings to passed away loved ones.
BTS Scenario | Riding

A/N: Hi guys! It’s Admin Sunshine, thank you for supporting me. I’ll be re-posting my reactions & scenarios on my blog.

PS: All of my reactions/scenarios and fictions will be fixed and there will be new things added in.

Requested from Anonymous.


 Warnings: Smut


Keep reading

BTS React to gf stealing/wearing their boxers

@keulla:  Hi would you like to make BTS reaction to their gf likes to wear boxer (either its theirs or she buy it herself)? It’ll will be fluff or smut is up to you^^

Thank you for the request love, and sorry for the Hiatus/Wait. I miss doing these, so while I don’t feel 100% I’m still going to put in some effort. :) Hope you guys understand. 


Namjoon:

He thinks it’s cute, and seeing you walk around his bedroom clad only in his boxers and one of his oversized t-shirts is something he’ll never take for granted. 

Now, that doesn’t mean it’s what he prefers to see you in. You know exactly what he prefers to see you in:

“Baby, you’be been wearing those boxers a lot lately, why don’t you wear something a little sexier, huh?”

“I really want you to put on something dirty for me. C’mon, treat me right.”

Originally posted by bangthebae

Jungkook:

He is obsessed

He doesn’t even care that you literally stole them, not asking for a pair directly. Which in itself shows you how much he likes the image. Jungkook doesn’t share cloths. 

Would want you to model for him a little bit, so he can take some pics for those long nights on the road. 

“Please, it’s the least you can do since you stole them.”

“Don’t you feel a little bit bad about being a theif? This is how you can make it up to me.”

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Taehyung:

Okay, but you waking up in the early morning after a great night of just spending time together and sex? Yes. You not being able to locate your own cloths bc you and Tae literally tore the clothes off of each other? Yes. You giving up after looking for 0.3 seconds and just pulling on the silken pair strewn onto the floor? Hell yes. 

Imagine him waking up bc you’re not there to cuddle, groggily reaching out for you, irritated that you’re not there, slowly pulling himself up out of bed and seeing you in them for the first time.

Boy is dumbstuck you look so good. 

“Ahh, jagi it’s too early to get out of bed, don’t you think?” His eyes are so dark, the longing in them off the fucking charts. 

He would push the sheets off of him, palming himself while not once taking his eyes off of you. 

“Seeing you in those. I really wanna fuck you.”

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Jin:

He would wonder for weeks where his boxers had gone too. When he finds out that the culprit is you, he is a little bit miffed. 

“Those are designer!”

“I never even suspected you! I blamed Joon because he never washes his cloths and always trys to bum!”

“Now I’m going to have to apologize. Do you know how much I hate not being right?”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

J Hope:

You honestly think he can take in the sight of you wearing just his boxers and not throw you over his shoulder? take you to the bedroom? and fuck you so hard you have trouble remembering your own name?

You make a point to steal a couple more pairs, using them to tease him and test his limits. 

You even wear them under your jeans sometimes, bending over that little bit so your waistband rides down and he gets a peak. 

“You’re a menace, sweetheart.”

“Being a tease isn’t very nice. Gotta teach you a lesson huh?”

Jimin:

It becomes a regular thing, because lets face it, Jimin thinks you look best when you’re wearing his clothes. 

“You wearing them tonight?”

“You should, I like seeing you in them.”

“If you do, I’ll be extra sweet to you, yeah?”

It makes the possessive part of him immensely pleased. 

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Yoongi:

“This is a problem, babe.”

“Now I get turned on whenever I see my own boxers! It’s like pavlovs dog.”

“How am I supposed to deal with all of these random boners?”

“This is your fault, take responsibility!”

Originally posted by jinje-reactions

Countdown

BACK WITH ANOTHER ONE-SHOT!!! I told you guys I’d have some canonverse klangst, so here it is! Longer than my usual one-shots, and while I don’t want to give a vague summary… there’s a bomb involved. So. Yeah, that’s a thing.

This one is actually inspired by this absolutely gorgeous, angsty art/mini-comic by @littlecofiegirl who is an amazing artist that you should definitely check out!!

I saw this comic on my dash and I loved it so much that I was immediately inclined to write for it? Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy!


The plan had been going flawlessly.

Key word being had.

Shiro and Lance were both searching opposite sides of the base for their captured teammate, and Pidge and Hunk were too occupied giving Shiro directions through the maze-like corridors that they neglected to warn Lance of the approaching Galra heat signature.

A cat blocked his path in the hall, staring at him with large, yellow eyes. It didn’t move to attack, but it also didn’t run away.

“Um… guys?” Lance tried over the coms, lowering his gun just a bit. He wasn’t about to shoot a cat, but he still wanted to be on guard.

He didn’t hear the Galra behind him until her hand was on his shoulder.

That was mistake number one.

Keep reading

Lovesick

A Bucky x Reader / smut

A/N: This is a rewrite of one of my SPN fics called ‘Purr’. I haven’t had much of a mojo to write anything new, but I wanted to put some kind of content out for you guys. Also, you’ll be happy to know it’s mechanic!Bucky. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think ♥

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings:
- SMUT.
- 18 or over please.
- if i see any blog under 18 like this or reblog it, I will have to block you.
- please, always wear a condom.

Tags: (no tags this time besides my peeps, please see the bottom of this fic if you would like to be tagged in future fics)

*gif is not mine.

Bucky had been gawking at you all day like a lovesick teenager. When your eyes would meet his sapphire blues, he’d quickly look away, as if he didn’t want you to notice his wandering eyes. You saw him though, saw his shimmering orbs scan over every inch of your body, stopping at your breasts and lingering there. Sometimes his mouth would hang open just an inch as he stared and you were surprised he never drooled, those perfect pouty lips making you want to attack his mouth in broad daylight.

You’d be lying if you said you were the innocent one, the urge to fuck his brains out growing with each moment you spent with him. When he was practicing his combat skills at Stark Tower, or tuning up Steve’s bike in the garage, you’d watch the muscles work underneath his skin with each movement, longing to run your fingers over each vein.

You’d brought him a bottle of water and watched drops of sweat run down his forehead, across his cheek, and disappear into his shirt. You’d balled your hands into fists at your sides, the urge to taste the salty liquid from his skin overwhelming you. So many times you had thought about what it would be like to feel his huge, strong hands working you over like he did baby’s engine.

“Y/N?” Bucky said sharply, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. You clenched your thighs together and could already feel the wetness pooling in your panties. “Can you pass me that wrench from the toolbox?” You got up on shaky legs and grabbed the wrench you thought he needed from the rusted, red toolbox on the backseat.

“Thank you,” he started, taking it from your hands. “But that’s not the one. Let me show you.” His hand found the small of your back, leading you to the toolbox. He pulled out the correct wrench and presented it to you. His hand was on your back again, guiding you back to Steve’s bike. “See, this one fits because of the way this bolt goes.” You watched him bend over, admiring the grease that was speckled up and down his forearms and biceps. You were suddenly uncomfortable, your thoughts turning to pure filth as you imagined him smearing that grease all over your naked skin.

“I- I’m gonna go inside,” you stammered, fidgeting with your hands. “It’s too hot out here.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you walked to the door of your motel room, your heart beating loudly in your chest. You closed the door behind you and pressed your back to it, letting out the deep breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Suddenly exhausted, you flopped down on your stomach onto the bed closest to the door, and fell asleep almost instantly.


You had no idea how much time had passed, but sunlight was still shining through the curtains as you fluttered your eyelids open. After your brain peeked through your sleep induced fog, your senses realized what had awoken you. Calloused fingertips ran down your bare thighs from behind you, followed by full hands rubbing your tired muscles. You closed your eyes again and took moment to catch your breath, knowing it was Bucky.

“Is this okay?” You heard him whisper, the smell of oil and leather invading your senses. Suddenly, his hands were right below your ass, cupping the soft flesh there.

“Are you joking?” you asked without thinking, feeling goosebumps rise along your skin at his touch. This is what you’d been dreaming about for weeks. “Please don’t stop.”

As if a switch had been flipped in him, Bucky suddenly had his hands around your waist, flipping you over onto your back. He was still covered in grease, even more so now from working on the bike. His hands moved hungrily underneath your shirt, smearing the black substance along your heated skin. You felt like you were on fire, about to combust, when his lips suddenly crashed into yours. A moan escaped your lips and got lost in his mouth, as he brought your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this? To touch you like this?” He growled into your neck, as he peppered it with quick and lustful kisses. “Too fucking long.”

“I- I saw the way you looked at me,” you managed to say, Bucky’s lips moving down to your collarbone and suckling there. “Like you were undressing me with your eyes.”

Bucky brought his eyes up to meet yours; those beautiful, swirling pools of blue. You felt your breath hitch at the sudden eye contact, your teeth biting on your bottom lip. You swore his face was made of marble, the beautiful creases by his eyes and even the tiny scar on his cheek so beautiful. You brought your hand up to trace the lines on his cheeks, and his eyes instinctively closed at your soft touch.

“You caught me,” he answered with a sly smile, his tongue snaking out to swipe over his plush bottom lip. “Now I want to undress you for real. Do you mind?”

His eyes were glinting with mischief and lust. How could you say no to someone so attractive? You shook your head no, unable to form words. Bucky quickly disposed of your grease covered t-shirt and bra, following with your cotton shorts. You suddenly remembered that you had failed to put on any panties today, suddenly self-consciously naked under his intimidating gaze. Bucky whistled, the sound echoing off the motel room walls.

“Would you look at that pretty pussy?” he groaned out, brushing his thumb softly across your already swollen clit. “Just as I imagined it would be.”

He got down on his knees at the end of the bed and put his palms underneath your ass to pull you closer to him. Your nipples were so sensitive and hard already, you couldn’t help but roll them between your fingers as you watched Bucky’s mouth come closer and closer to your dripping sex. “What do you say I make you purr like Steve’s bike outside, hmm?”

Before you could even answer, his soft lips were wrapped around your clit. At first, his tongue moved in torturous circles around your bundle of nerves, before sucking it into his mouth and making your toes curl. Every few seconds he’d stop, allowing you to catch your breath and swiping his tongue inside you to taste your juices, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and again. You were so close to cumming already and he could tell, your entire body trembling, your legs instinctively trying to close around his head. Bucky inserted one of his thick fingers inside you, growling at your walls pulsing around it.

“Fuck,” he growled, curling up his finger to brush perfectly against your g-spot. “Let me feel you cum, Y/N.”

That’s all it took for your orgasm to crash through you in a violent wave, your entire body jerking on the bed, your moans reaching the ceiling.

“You’re so sweet and you taste even sweeter,” Bucky said, sucking your juices off his finger. Your entire chest and face was flushed scarlet from your orgasm, your pussy aching for Bucky to fill you up.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, tugging at his belt and pulling him closer.

“Tell me,” he commanded, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“I need to feel you fill me,” you whispered, and his eyes lit up even more. His pants and boxers were pooled around his feet quicker than you could blink. You gasped at the sight of his hard, thick cock pointed right in your direction. You couldn’t help but reach your hand out to grab it, to feel the ridges and veins glide in your palm as you stroked him up and down. You licked the bead of precum off the tip of his cock, ensuring you made eye contact with him the entire time.

“Lay back,” he said, taking his cock into his own hand and lazily stroking it. He spread your legs apart with his free hand and ran the head along your slick folds, brushing it against your clit with each turn. He eased himself in slow, allowing your tight walls to accommodate his size. Bucky hissed between his teeth as he sunk himself deep inside you, feeling your sweetest spot against his sensitive tip. He pumped his hips into you at a slow pace at first, but you were already desperate for more friction, desperate for him to fuck the ever loving shit out of you.

“Faster,” you breathed out, the desperation in your voice thick and needy. “Harder. Fuck me.”

Bucky pumped into you faster and faster, the redness creeping up his chest as he fucked you deeper and deeper. His fingers dug into your ankles so deeply, he left marks. The sweat from his brow was dripping onto your stomach now,

“I’m going to fucking cum so deep inside you,” he grunted out between thrusts, the feeling of his hard cock pulling at your walls making you want to cum again. “I can’t hold it anymore.” You watched as Bucky’s face contorted and you felt his cock twitch inside you as he came, sending you over the brink yourself. You both moaned each other's’ names as you released, tingles pricking at your skin. He collapsed on top of you, the grease from his arms now rubbing all over you once more. Once you were both able to catch your breath, Bucky propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“You’re all dirty,” he said, a sly smirk on his face. “What do you say I go clean you up?”


@howlingbarnes @captainrogerss @sebbytrash @marvel-ash @mrs-squirrel-chester @captain-rogers-beard

I’m starting a new tag list!

Please visit this link to add yourself to my tag list by category. For now it’s all Bucky, and I’ve included ‘all fics’ and ‘no smut’. Thanks for your continued support guys. Let me know if this link doesn’t work. I love you all ♥

Bts | Reaction | Checkmate✔️

[ i live for these mafia/gangsta aus! thanks so much for requesting this, i love you so much, enjoy :)) ]

Seokjin

➸ You hadn’t caught his eye just yet, him merely seeing you as another waitress threatened with your life to serve him anything he desired. This business meeting was nothing but intense, the atmosphere suffocating as the topic was on murder. Now, for a normal servant they wouldn’t even bat an eye on the conversation - but that’s just it. 

You were new. 

And it probably was just your luck to be working on the day they decided to be…descriptive as to what they planned to do to the rat among them. A little squeamish, you couldn’t help but shake uncontrollably when you poured Jin another glass of wine, biting your lip with so much strength that you were sure it was bleeding.

“Yoongi, for the last time, we are not using acid. I almost lost my fucking arm trying to clean it up the last time we used it.” Namjoon groans, rubbing his temples in aggravation. “What is it with you and melting skin?” 

“He’s a sadist, that’s why.” Jimin snickers. “I say we cut off the fingers, one by one. Then, leave him to bleed out - slowly.” 

You couldn’t help but gulp at the mere thought of someone’s fingers being cut off, or their skin melting off; what was wrong with these people? Do they find it entertaining doing these things-

“Yah!” 

The abrupt shout coming from Jin shocks you back into reality, as your heart drops at the sight of the overflowed wine glass, now all over the white table cloth and his dress pants. Losing the ability to breathe, you stand there with your mouth agape in terror, eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights. Sputtering out apologies left and right, you set the bottle down to hurriedly clean him up as much as you could with the hem of your dress - it being the only thing available. 

“I-I’m sorry, please, forgive me - I didn’t mean to, I was only just-” 

Before you could finish your plea, your breath is once again caught in your throat as rough fingers grip your jaw, lifting your head back up so he could get a good look at you. The room is now silent, which you concluded to be much worse than their conversation. You didn’t even notice you had tears until he used his other hand to wipe them away, gently. Never had you ever been so confused until this very moment - Jin was never gentle. You know from witnessing what he was really capable of.  

“Calm down, it’s alright. It was only an accident, right?” You take a minute to nod slowly, but once you did, he smiles. That only seems to scare you rather than put you at ease. “No need to be scared. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hm?” 

Before you had a chance to answer, Jin had already latched onto your forearm, while standing from his seat. It was as if wine had never been spilled as he gave the conference table one last look. “Continue without me, I’ll be back shortly. And get someone to clean up this mess.” 

Taking a look at them as well, you didn’t understand as to why they all had knowing grins as they waved the two of you off. What was going to happened to you? Was he just playing tricks, was this the end for you? Your breathing only came in chops as he escorted you out of the room, the tears cascading down your face as you whimpered. 

“Please, don’t kill me! I have a family, please, I didn’t mean to spill-” You were cut off once again, only this time in an incredibly different way. Blinking rapidly, you moaned in surprised as his lips crashed onto yours, his hands rested on your lower back, pulling you in close. 

What was this you were feeling? 

This wasn’t the Kim Seokjin you’ve come to know for the past week, he never even gave you a passing glance - he didn’t know you existed until today. How come this kiss felt like he’s known you forever? 

After a few minutes, the two of you pulled away desperately in need for air, his hands now finding a new area to caress as he stared into your eyes. 

“I..I don’t understand…” 

“Have you any idea how long I’ve been searching for you? How long I’ve waited, and yet here you were this whole time - serving me wine.” Seeing that you were still confused, Jin chuckles softly. “What’s your name?” 

“Y-Y/n…”

“Y/n.” He repeated, allowing the name to slip off his tongue, like butter. “Such a pretty name, it suits you.” 

“So..you’re not gonna kill me, or cut my fingers off, or bathe me in acid-”

“Now, how could I do that to my soulmate?” Feeling your heart nearly stop, you practically choke on air at the word. “Sorry you had to hear all of that, from now on, you no longer have to serve me. And you have a family, you say? I’d like to meet them, they shall be protected for as long as I’m breathing, as well as you.”

“Whoa, wait, slow down. I-I’m your…b-but how could you possibly know?! Just five minutes ago, you didn’t know who I was, and now all of the sudden we’re soulmates? I just…I don’t understand.” Yes, everything was crashing onto you all at once, but you didn’t pull away from him. You let him continue to hold you; his presence oddly feeling right.

Jin couldn’t help but to laugh, the feeling of relief that he finally found you was enough to put him a constant good mood. Not even you’re obliviousness could annoy him; whether you believed him or not, he would get you see someday that he was made for you.

“There’s plenty of time to explain all of this - but wouldn’t you rather get cleaned up? This wine is starting to feel a little sticky.” 

The events of earlier almost made you forget the small slip up you made - realizing that it all came down to just overfilling a wine glass. If you hadn’t have been so careless, would you be in this situation? Would everything had been different if you hadn’t have screwed up? 

Was this fate? If he wasn’t going to kill you, why not at least see where all of this was going to lead. What was the worst that could happen? 

Nodding slowly, this time he went for your hand, leading the way to what you assumed to be his bedroom. 

“We are meant to be, my love. I’ll show you.” 

Yoongi 

➸ If there was anything else Yoongi could do, he would pick it in a heartbeat. He’d rather watch paint dry than wander around this party, surrounded by a whole bunch of idiots who were drunk off their asses while carrying lethal weapons. If anything, he feared for his life rather than enjoyed the event. To be honest he couldn’t even remember why he was there in the first place. 

“Attention, could I have everyone’s attention. I would like to thank you all for attending this special occasion. The day my only child takes over the family business.”

Ah, that’s right. He was sent to put in a good word for вts to the new mafia boss of BigHit; just to make sure there continued to be no bad blood between them. He didn’t know what the big deal was, just some guy getting a new position in something that was merely child’s play - in his opinion. Why was there a need for such a big fuss over one dude? 

Man, was he in for a kick in the balls when you walked out. You were far from being ‘some guy’ or a ‘dude’. You were a woman. And the ‘big fuss’ was because BigHit had never been run by a woman before. Especially not a woman that looked like pure sex. Yoongi nearly choked on his drink when you strutted out for the whole party to see, cheers erupting all around him, yet he couldn’t hear a thing. It was like all his senses were circled in on you, even senses he didn’t know he had were all focused. 

“My daughter, Y/n, the first female to ever run the empire. Babygirl - make daddy proud.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to fantasize about saying those final words to you someday, biting his lip as his eyes scanned you up and down. Definitely a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. He could only pray to the man in the sky, thanking that Jin-hyung made him come to this event.

Clearing his throat, he joined in the claps that congratulated their new boss, all sending their best wishes and positive vibes. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to be alone with her to discuss ‘business’. He watched you intensely as you made your way down the stairs, dress flowing behind you so elegantly it should be considered illegal to look as good as you did. You greeted anyone that was in your path - from hugs, to handshakes, to the friendly kisses on the cheek. 

But, as soon as you got to him - everything stopped. As if your brain had completely shut off, and you were merely a hallow shell. You didn’t even blink, your mouth hanging open like a fool as you stood in front of him with your arms open. 

If he hadn’t cleared his throat, you probably would have been stuck like that for a little while. Shaking your head, you chuckle nervously, reaching over to shake his hand. 

“So sorry, I don’t know what came over me for a second. You must be Yoongi, Seokjin told me that you would be attending tonight. Pleasure to finally put a face to a name.” When his hand had finally connect with yours, you could have sworn a bolt of electricity sprung up your right arm, almost making you jump back in alarm. Almost

“Pleasure is all mine,” Yoongi pulls you in closer by the hand, leaning down to place a light kiss upon your knuckles. “Miss Y/n.” 

The way your name fell from his lips nearly made you weak in the knees. Blinking a couple of times to compose yourself, you gesture with your other hand in the direction where your new, private office was located. 

“Shall we get down to business, then?” 

Tightening his grip on her hand, he nods slowly as a grin forms upon his lips. “Lead the way.” 

Namjoon 

➸ You two had made eye contact the minute you hit the stage. It was your first night being the main dancer, feeling so confident in yourself that you decided to wear a little something more than inappropriate - snagging Namjoon’s attention in under a second. Not only had he never seen you before, but you did something to him the same way a drug would do. His heart started to race, his palms sweating, everything around him going silent and his vision tunneling in on you and only you. 

For a moment, you forgot your whole routine, or that there were other men in the room you needed to interest; not just him. But, your mind felt as if he was all the attention you wanted - needed, even. You didn’t know what is was, but when the music started, you had no choice but to get into character and finally break eye contact. Namjoon leaned back into his chair, eyes still trained on your swaying figure as you started to dance, licking his lips slowly at your movements being so smooth and precise. 

“Behave yourself, Namjoon, we’ve only just arrived and you’re already eye-fucking one of the dancers.” Jin playfully punches his shoulder, him not flinching. “Yah, what’s the matter with you?” 

Tugging at the sudden tightness at his collar, Namjoon finds the strength to pull his eyes away from you, them now clouded with lust as he tried to allow his heart to slow down. Jin had seen this look before, many times actually, him having had the same look not too long ago. Nodding to his friend, slowly, Jin only chuckles as Namjoon spilled everything without having to say one word. 

“Ah, I see. You think she’s the one?” 

“I don’t think. I know she is.” He notices that your dance was coming close to an end, him not wasting a moment before standing up and adjusting himself. “Don’t wait up, I’m coming home late.” 

“Be gentle with her, Joonie~” Jimin giggles, chugging down yet another shot with Taehyung. “We don’t call you ‘God of Destruction’ for nothing.” 

It was as if you were expecting him when you descended from the stage, already signaling him to follow you to the private section of the club, a teasing little smirk creeping upon you face as you made sure to swing your hips with exaggeration as you walked. Raising an eyebrow in interest, Namjoon couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as he happily started to follow you. 

“I think she can handle me.”  

Hoseok 

➸ Hoseok knew this was coming, eventually. He drank his poison and merely waited for it take effect, it was only a matter of time. He knew his wife was going to rat him out the minute she discovered the secrecy he’s kept from her for so long. 

“I hope that bitch was worth it, and that you rot in hell, Jung Hoseok!” 

He would only roll his eyes, as the police finished handcuffing them all, escorting them outside. There were millions of flashing lights as soon as they stepped foot through the doors; from reporters to people with camera phones, all taking pictures of the notorious mafia gang finally being brought to justice. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but to smile. These poor, naive fools.

People continuously shouted at them, from insults to curses, all saying this was a new beginning - now that the terrorists were finally going to be put behind bars, once and for all. Once the doors to the van were slammed shut, the seven of them looked at each other before all busting into a fit of laughter. The sound of the engine starting was loud enough to drown it out from anyone of the outside, driving away at lightening speed until the flashing lights of the cameras were submerged to nothing but tiny specks in the distance. 

For a straight ten minutes into the drive, they couldn’t keep from laughing - the whole situation seeming unreal and just hilarious to them. It wasn’t until the van had come to a complete stop did they all finally compose themselves enough to catch their breaths. Opening the double doors, they were greeted by a silhouette covered from head to toe in black, wearing a police helmet to hide their face; the laughter then returned once again. 

“Stop looking so fucking intimidating, your Oscar for world’s best actress is in the mail, Y/n.” Taehyung sarcastically remarked, you chuckling in response as your remove the helmet. Climbing into the van, you go over to Hoseok first, leaning downward to kiss him passionately - the guys not missing a beat to let out groans of disgust, mixed in with their laughter. 

“I always knew that tramp would sing like a canary. Not my fault her husband happened to my soulmate - and I sure as hell wasn’t going to share you for much longer, Hobi~” You unchained him from his handcuffs, so he could hold you properly as the two of you shared another kiss. 

“Yah, you two can ravish each other later! Right now, we gotta move, before the police realize this van never showed up to it’s original destination.” Namjoon warned. 

Pecking his lips one more time, you rush over to uncuff the rest of вts, them not wasting time to strip out of their suits. Putting on the casual clothing you had packed for them ahead of time, Yoongi then spread the inside of the van with gasoline as well as their previous clothing. Helping to push the vehicle into a nearby ditch, Hoseok held up a box of matches, his eyes piercing into your own. 

“Y/n. It is your choice if you want to continue on with us, or not. I’m going to be honest, once the feds catch on they will hunt us down like dogs, and it’s not going to be easy. I won’t make you do something you don’t want to-” 

You kiss him hard on the mouth before he could finish his speech, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close, signifying that you weren’t going anywhere. After pulling away from the passionate kiss, you happily take the matches from his hand, striking one of them - watching the flame come to life in the dark night. Taking a deep breath, you throw it toward the van, it perfectly landing on the roof of it. Not even seconds later did a blanket of fire start to spread around the vehicle, it being completely engulfed into the flames. The maknaes hoop and holler at the moon, dancing around with each other as the rest of you merely watched it burn. 

Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to place a kiss on your forehead. “This isn’t going to be fun, you know.”

You chuckle, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “If you’re trying to scare me into leaving, it’s not gonna work. I’m with you till the end, Hobi, until the day I die.” 

He could only smile, your response making his heart race uncontrollably - something his wife could never do. You were the breath of fresh air he’s been looking for. Sure everything he’s worked for is practically gone thanks to you, but he didn’t mind starting over. It was a small price to pay, for you. 

“I love you, Y/n. Until the day I die.”

Jimin 

➸ Unfortunately, you were on his hit list. Someone had called him in to finish the job, getting rid of the witness who had gotten away with too much information. But, there was no record that you even existed, besides a name and the location where you worked. You kept a low profile, due to your reputation of being a well known snitch, only the last thing you spied on - you were sloppy. They saw you sneaking out of the window when you felt like you’ve gotten all that you needed. They didn’t see your face, but they knew enough to track you down - for him to track you down. 

Jimin entered the bar, dressed in nothing but black as he scanned the area. Checking over the exits, giving an educated guess of how many people were in the place, playing out all the possibly scenarios that could unfold tonight. The worst that could happen is that the police could get involved, allowing you to get away, and fail the mission. But, Jimin was a lot of things; a failure wasn’t one of them. 

The only information he was given was that you were either a server here, or a performer in one of the cages that hung from the ceiling. He knew that no one had seen your face before, but he felt that he could put a name of a face. Jimin wouldn’t be good at what he did if he couldn’t. Scanning the cages, none of the girls that shamelessly flashed their naked bodies seemed to fit the small profile. Huffing, he crosses the cages out; only one thing left to investigate. 

Sitting at one of tables, he pressed the button in front of him to gain service from one of the waitresses that would migrate all over the place. It took no more than five minutes for one of them to finally make their way over to him, notepad in hand, with sweat glistening off their face and nearly exposed torso; he nearly giggles at the faint appearance of glitter. It wasn’t until his eyes had landed on your face did the look of amusement completely melt from his features, quickly replaced with the blank one he had came in with. Trying to catch your breath in the stuffy bar, you didn’t even notice his face yet in the dimly lit area where the table was located. 

Jimin gulps, trying to keep himself calm before his heart nearly busted out of his chest. It couldn’t be you, it just couldn’t. He prayed to god that it wasn’t, that you were someone random who worked here, that his instincts were wrong this one time. When you had finally caught your breath, chuckling softly, you politely bowed in apology - still haven’t lifted your head up to look at him. 

“I am terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. My name is Y/n, I’ll be your server for tonight, what can I get for yo-…” You had then looked up, your professional smile dropping to a look of pure terror, as you took a small step back. Jimin’s blank expression switched to something that seemed as if he were in physical pain, tears forming in his eyes as he couldn’t bear to look into your terrified ones. 

You knew who he was, and what he was there to do. That only seemed to pain Jimin even further as the rapid beating of his heart only confirmed his worst nightmare: he’d have to kill his soulmate. 

“Y/n, I’m begging you…please run.” 

Taehyung 

➸ Taehyung had a reputation of being incapable of feeling anything. Emotions he once had in the past completely erased from his genetic code thanks to the rough teachings from his father. He grew up with no warmth of a mother’s touch, no grandmother, nor sister, just merely male presence for as long as he can remember. 

He hated smiling. Anytime his father caught him even so much as grinning, he earned himself a beating. He hated laughing. Anytime he would laugh for having fun, another beating, then no dinner. He hated crying. Anytime Tae would cry after a beating, or from hunger, he would only get beat even more - and possibly the loss of food privileges for a whole week. After a while, Kim Taehyung learned to not feel a thing. It’s the only thing that kept him alive. 

When he arrived at the party, he was greeted with friendly smiles, warm welcomes, you name it - they wanted to make him feel special. After his father’s death recently, he had been promoted to head boss - taking the news with a blank expression and curt nod. Never shed a tear about his father, or for this grand opportunity he’s been trained for since birth. He felt nothing. 

Jin accompanied Taehyung, being his ride to the event. Jin’s job was to be his smile, his laugh, anything that had to do with emotion - Jin was the man to be called. But, if the eldest didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he had seen Taehyung grinning at something when they entered; for a split second. 

“I’m gonna go scout for the others, and find our reserved table. Don’t do anything rash, remember your temper.” 

“Aish, Jin-hyung, you’re like the mother I never had.” Taehyung spoke with monotone, his hooded eyes never faltering. “I’ll be a good boy.” 

Jin raises his eyebrow in confusion. “Did…Did you just make a joke?” 

Blinking a couple of times, Taehyung turns away from him while looking anywhere else to distract this tingly feeling at his finger tips. Shrugging slightly, he starts walking away without another word to Jin, leaving him to stand there for moment. Scoffing softly, he just shakes his head. He would forever be a mystery to him. 

Taehyung walked forward with no particular destination, but he couldn’t stop. He was looking for something, someone perhaps, he just didn’t know who. It wasn’t until he had ran into a server with a tray in their hands did he snap out of his zombie-like state. A small gasp made him look down at the mess he had created, the girl in front of him looking as if she had just seen as ghost. Bowing multiple times, you apologize multiple times in one breath, lowering to floor to quickly gather everything you dropped so you could escape his sight before he could catch a good look at your face. The last thing you needed was to turn up dead the next day all because of a clumsy mistake. 

But, it wasn’t your fault, and he knew that. 

Everything around the two of had stopped, everyone staring in equal shock and sympathy as they all concluded that you probably just made the biggest mistake of your life. Taehyung stared down at you once more, eye twitching slightly as tears cascaded down your face as you practically begged for forgiveness for getting his blazer all messy. He didn’t like the sight, not in the slightest - usual he would find joy in someone pleading for mercy, but coming from you - it didn’t leave the right taste in his mouth. 

Without hesitation, Taehyung drops to his knees, helping you pick up the shattered glass piece by piece. You lowered your head even further to keep from making eye contact, afraid to see the look of rage in his eyes. He looked you over for a moment, seeing multiple cuts all over your hands from picking up shards of glass with your bare hands in such a hurry to get away from him. You looked so fragile, so scared, so…cute. It had been a while since he’s seen something like that. Gently as he could, he gripped your chin, lifting your head up to finally make eye contact with him. 

Gasping softly once again, your breathing stops altogether when you see all the emotion held in such soft brown eyes. They were so wide, so curious, nothing like in the stories people would gossip about on the streets. Tears still leaked from your eyes as you sat still, in fear that one wrong move could set him off. Taehyung on the other hand couldn’t understand this rapid beating in his chest, the same way it did when he first saw you when he came in - you were the one Jin almost caught him grinning at. 

“What’s your name?” He finally spoke, voice low so not to frighten you. “Please, tell me your name. I’m not going to hurt you, just please…” 

Gulping, you blink away a few more tears, sniffling before answering. “Y/n. My name is L/n Y/n. I’m 19 years old, I have no family except my little sister at home who needs me, she’s only 6, I bed you, please don’t…”

You start to choke on your own words at the tears once again started to flow, clenching Taehyung’s heart to the point he was extremely confused as to what this feeling was. Never has he experienced anything like this before, it being so long to where he’s forgotten the name for it. Pain? Anger? Sadness? 

Whatever it was, he didn’t want you expressing it any longer. Not wasting another moment, he picks you up into his arms, practically cradling you in way he could only wish someone did for him growing up. He not only surprised those all around him, and you, but himself as well. Blinking a couple of times, he glares.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” 

Just that alone was enough to make everyone practically sprint in different directions. Taehyung only scoffs before heading the direction went in, making you tense up in his arms more than before. 

“W-Where are you taking me?” 

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking forward. When he had finally come across the rest of his group, they all stared up at him with either confusion or surprised; perhaps a combination of both. Tae takes his seat, not even considering their feelings about how this must look to them, now resting you on his lap. You practically vibrated in his hold, very confused as why you were there or what he wanted from you. What really shocked you the most would be how he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you to his chest while nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. 

Looking over his table for any explanation, you weren’t expecting them to all sudden have some kind of mental understanding as to why he was acting this way. Taehyung leans upward until he felt close enough to your ear, whispering softly into your ear that made your blood run cold. 

“I’m keeping you. You make me feel again.”

Jungkook 

➸ Jungkook was to be on his best behavior at this dinner, having been told that it was a meeting between long term rivals to finally end any bad blood that was between them. He understood completely; don’t be disrespectful, no dirty looks, don’t even so much as open his mouth. If they wanted this to be a sure thing, then he needed to be the golden maknae he’s been trained to be. 

Sure, that seemed like an easy to do, it’s nothing new to be told those rules whenever there was a meeting of importance. The only difference in this particular meeting that almost made shit hit the fan - their rival’s daughter was not only smoking hot…but also his soulmate. Now, Jungkook being the youngest, it was a whole lot harder to hide intense emotions that finding your soulmate could do to you. Just the sight of you made his heart race, his only focus being you as all his thoughts were only interested on what your name was, where had you been all his life, and how did you like your eggs in the morning after spending a night with him? The longer he looked at you, the more sinful his mind turned - to the point Jimin had to pinch him in the arm to bring his focus back on the meeting before anyone noticed. 

“What the hell could you possibly be staring at that hard?” He hissed under his breath, before blushing hard and looking elsewhere. “Are you aroused? Right now, are you fucking kidding me, Jungkook?” 

“It’s not my fault!” He bit back, blush covering his face as well. Wincing slightly at the sudden pain in his ankle, he jets his eyes to his left to see that Yoongi was give the two of them a warning glare. Jungkook couldn’t help the increasing tightness in his pants, having to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering at the slight throb. “Oh, fuck, it hurts…” 

He tried with all his might to hold in any noises he wanted so bad to let out, having to rest his head in his hands to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It wouldn’t have been overlook if his elbows hadn’t have slammed into the table - the sound echoing around the once tranquil meeting that was now more of an awkward silence. Jungkook could practically feel all eyes on him, and hear the faint sound of Namjoon face palming. Lifting his head up slowly, he sheepishly smiles. 

“S-Sorry…migraine.” He quickly covered, the boss not seeming to look fooled. But, with a small nod, he gestures for someone to come forward. Jungkook nearly choked on his spit when you walked past him, swearing that you had just ran your finger tips over his back. When you made it over to your father, he whispered something in your ear - you soon nodding that you understood. 

Walking over to him yet again, you placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to flash him a warm smile that nearly made him faint right then and there. Without speaking, Jungkook stood, crossing his hands in front of his crotch area to hide the evident bulge that was forming. Following your lead, the two of you exit the room to let them continue the meeting in peace. Once he was positive you were no longer within earshot of the room, he didn’t hesitate to pin you to the wall. 

“What did your father say?” He all but groans in your ear, making sure to grind his lower half into yours to let you know all that you’ve done to him without even touching him. “Does he know you’re my soulmate?” 

“N-No. He just said ‘take care of him’. But, he never specified on how.” You breathlessly spoke, holding onto his broad shoulders as you slowly started to lose your train of thought. The minute he walked in, you were intoxicated. Your vision became blurry, your palm sweaty; your mother had told you all the symptoms, you just never knew they would be this intense. “They way you looked at me, I knew you felt it, too.” 

“Why send you to escort me out, then? Not that I’m complaining.”

You moaned softly as his lips found that one sweet spot near your ear, it becoming harder and harder to think straight. 

“He wants me to learn the family business. He wants me to teach you a lesson, I-I guess - punish you f-for interrupting.” 

Jungkook grins slyly as he finally pulls away from the now purple mark blossoming on your neck. Your flustered state was definitely something he could get used to seeing - even if it had to be behind his hyungs’ backs, or your ruthless father. You were so worth it. 

“Well then…punish me, baby.” 

tony stark, a certified baby-cuddler

everyone needs more tony and babies in their life, right? have a fic. because tony canonically goes to hospitals and hugs babies who need it. (for mobile users, there’s a read-more after a few paragraphs)


Tony Stark isn’t new to kids, not exactly.

He’s always tried to visit paediatric wards when he had a moment, letting the kids play with the armours and telling them stories. He helped Reed and Sue with babysitting, and he remembers Val’s first attempts at building microprocessors. He held a newborn Danielle Cage in his arms and he marvelled at how tiny she was. He’s always glad to help his baby Avengers with homework.

He likes kids. He might never have his own, and he tells himself he’s made his peace with that, but he likes kids and he likes spending time with them, from babies and toddlers to I’m-not-a-kid-anymore teenagers.

And the moments he spends with kids never get any less special.

Keep reading

⇁ tessellate | 01

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

sequel to nudes, not flowers with more angst and more filth

pairing⇁Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut, slight angst || fuckboi!au

warnings⇁public indecency, cumplay, exhibitionism, rough sex, dom/sub undertones, dom!junghope, jealousy, mentions of infidelity, sex in front of a mirror, oh n light daddy kink 

word count⇁15k

“ Triangles are my favorite shape
Three points where two lines meet.” (tessellate)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept. 

or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory 

start | 01

Keep reading

The Dozens of Times Eddie Kapbrak Came Home, and the One Time He Didn’t

(A Story in Sonia’s POV)


–There was the one time Eddie came home angry. Slamming doors, cursing under his breath. I was upset at the language, but more worried he’d catch a little finger, or a toe in the cabinets or doors. I asked why and he pushed me away. He had always been doing that lately. Am I being too much of a worrier? Maybe I am. He’s older now, and doesn’t need me as much. As much as that hurts to admit, seventeen is old enough to be independent. 


–He came home crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that, too. Something was different. He came to me for once. I was selfishly happy, but that left me when I saw him. He had a bruise under his left eye. His lip was cut, and his hands were shaking and red, a sign that he’d had a panic attack again. Those signs used to be foreign to me until he told me those weren’t asthma like I had thought for years. I’d like to think of myself as an almost expert on them now. The only thing hard for me to tell anymore is what might cause them. He has them so often. Eddie comes to me, and sits down, panting. He looks worn down and sad and resigned, as if he’s accepted a heavy fate, or like he was waiting for a piano to fall on him. 

This time when I ask him what’s wrong, he crumbles and starts to cry again. He tells me Henry and his psychopath friends cornered him in the locker room, and roughed him up. He shows me his ribs, and I see red. Partly the dried blood, partly rage. That little freak carved the word “Fag” into Eddie’s little side. It takes everything in me not to take him to the hospital, but Eddie insists he cleaned and dressed it as much as it needed, and it wasn’t deep, no stitches needed. I prayed with everything in me that it wouldn’t scar. When I asked him why they would choose that word, he becomes silent again. He seems to be trying to find the right words to say, and eventually he does. He tells me, stuttering more than the elder Denbrough boy, that it’s because they saw him kissing Richard Tozier. I had nothing to say, and he goes to his room before I could find the right words. I did eventually, over dinner. I tried to make a lighthearted joke, and said he could do better than little Richie Tozier, and that I loved him. He did laugh, but he also cried. This time it was the good way. 


–One time he came home excited, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran upstairs. I called out to him to get the door, but he was down just as fast heading out again. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and I can’t help but to think that just a few months ago this same boy was crying in shame over what had happened. He was a lot happier in general, due in part I suppose to coming out, but mostly Richard. Richie, Richie this, and Richie that. I almost wanted to tell him I was tired of hearing it, but his happiness wasn’t something I could get tired of. Despite being a trouble maker and a bad mouth, he did take care of Eddie. I did tell him to stop coming home with love marks- unsanitary and shameless little things. I tried not to think about the fact that he still probably got them where I couldn’t see them. He may be an adult next month but he’s still my little angel.

He tells me he’s finally going out on a real date, just the two of them. That they’re going to see a movie, and he tells me not to wait up. I know I’ll try to, but he always manages to come home after I fall asleep. Sneaky little boy. He tells me he’s already left the name, address, and number of the movie theatre on the counter, and that he’ll be with Richie who can be reached as well. I have his number in my Rolodex, as I do his parents, and the rest of his friends- you never know when you might need them. He kisses my cheek and practically skips out to the beat up truck Richard drives. It has a bench seat and the driver seatbelt doesn’t work most of the time, and I cringe thinking about Richie just sitting on it so he doesn’t get a ticket for not actually wearing it. Eddie promised me he’d never drive it, so at least there’s that. 


–He came home today, silent. It’s almost worse when he does that instead of crying. Eddie was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I asked if he was okay, and he just stares at me. It feels like an eternity when he opens and says “The school won’t let Richie and I go to prom together… They said if we showed up they’d kick us out.” His voice sounds so fragile and small, like he doesn’t feel like a real person. I’m furious. I tell him I’ll call the school, but he begs me not to. He says it’s okay, he knew it would happen, that this is just the way things are. I, however, will not stand this. As soon as he goes to his room, I call his principle. I can’t remember exactly what I said, though I am equal parts embarrassed and proud to have used foul language in place of his name. “Mr. Shitstain” and I came to an agreement that they may attend as long as they are within a larger group. He will not allow them to have couple’s pictures, but he did reluctantly allow that they dance together. I tell Eddie in the morning and he cries and hugs me. He goes to Richie to give him good news. 


–He comes home after prom with a photo- the whole group is in it, all holding a sign that says “Loser’s Club”. I cringed at the name, but they chose it for themselves years ago. Eddie and Richie are next to each other, and I suppress an eye roll that Richard had ripped open his shirt to reveal an exclamation point painted on his pale abdomen at the last moment. The picture is slightly blurred, and Eddie confirms my theory when he laughs and says the camera guy was startled and tried to lunge at Richard to put all of his clothes back on. Despite this, I see the stars in his eyes. He is happy, so I am happy. 


–Lately he’s been coming home with heaps of papers, college letters, essays, SATs, tests. I try not to think about him leaving. I turn up the volume on the TV or the radio when he uses the phone to talk to his friends about it. It hurts and he knows it hurts. I’ve never been good at not worrying. This goes on for weeks. I fail to keep my tears in when he’s at school or out with friends, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud. He’s such a good boy. 


–This time he comes home, and he doesn’t say a word, and I can’t see him from the kitchen but I know something is wrong. His feet are dragging and his breathing sounds funny. I drop the spoon into the soup when I hear a crash. He’s laying on the floor and crying. Despite him being curled up in a ball I can see he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and bleeding badly. I try not to scream but when I rush to him I can’t hold it, he’s been cut up badly again, more words carved into his soft belly and his thighs. I can see the word “Queer” seeping through his khaki pantleg as he sobs. This time, he does need stitches. In many places. The only thing he says to me from the hospital bed is that he is oh so tired of this town. Richard never leaves his side, growling at anyone who causes him pain or wakes him up, like a wild animal. I’ve decided that I am incredibly grateful that he is who he is. 

He’s in the hospital for three days. Night one was cleaning and stitching and recounting what happened. The police had been called to file a report. He hesitantly confesses that Henry, Patrick, and the other cretins did this to him. Chief Bowers is red with rage. I hear him in the hallway calling my son a “flamer” but that his boy was “going to get it”. This is the first and only time I’ve yelled at a cop. Richie laughs and holds up his hand for a high five, something I wouldn’t usually reciprocate, but tonight is a night of firsts. Night two was observation and tests to see how bad the internal injuries might be. He has a concussion, but they found no internal damage aside from bruises and a cracked rib. They send him home wrapped in Ace bandages and taped up like Richard’s glasses. That night he tells me he needs to leave, that he can’t take this anymore. I’m angry, and admittedly irrational. We do not speak to each other for a week. 


–When we speak again, he walks in the door with Richie, William, and Michael. Out of his friends, Michael is my favorite despite where he lives being so messy. He brings me flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables. He washes them himself, but only once he gets here so I can see it. He’s a very well mannered and intelligent man. William is wonderful too, but I feel guilt in having trouble understanding him, and he has a habit of talking with his mouth full. He’s not as messy as Richard, so at least there is that. Eddie has healed nicely so far, most of the stitches are out already, and the scars he has, though sadly legible, are hidden under clothes. His lip and eyebrow have small scars, but they are hard to notice. The boys have folded boxes in their hands. I knew this was coming, but I still couldn’t bear it. I stubbornly told him I wouldn’t help him, and that I wouldn’t watch him either. He only nods his head, looking down. 

They pack up his belongings, and I step out into the yard, smoking my first cigarette in years. I swiped one from the Marsh girl months ago, when Eddie was starting to talk about college. I thought that was the worst, but this hurts more. He’s leaving too soon, and I can’t stop him. He promised me he’d finish high school, and go to college, but that he would not live here, in Derry. Because we weren’t completely speaking, I have no idea where he’s moving, and now I’m too embarrassed to ask. When I go back inside, William hands me a piece of paper, his handwriting surprisingly neat, with Eddie’s address, and number. He was moving just outside of the city, into the matchbox apartments. With Richard. I can’t help it. When he walks out of the front door with his things, he kisses my cheek. I can’t help it. When the car drives away, their silhouettes in the windshield. I can’t help it. I sit down on the porch, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. 


–He doesn’t come in the door anymore. Not the way he used to. No angry slams, no excited pops as the door hits the wall. No silent entries when he’s tired. No little footsteps. He doesn’t come home. He visits, sometimes with Richard, and with his friends. He calls frequently, too. He’s a good boy. Time passes, and he came to visit after graduation. He got accepted to a college in Maine. I try to hide how happy that makes me. I promise I won’t go to the dorms too much. He and Richie talk about their lease ending and moving on campus. His little group of friends are trying their best to stick together. They all got accepted to the same school, and will try to attend until their majors take them elsewhere. It’s nice knowing that he’ll have so many friends. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits. Holidays he even stays in his old room. Sometimes. Other times he stays with William in his new house, just down the street from mine. Sometimes they visit Richie’s parents, or Michael’s farm. It’s a lot like it used to be, but it isn’t the same. I know it never will be, and while I’m sad, I’m happy too. He doesn’t come home, but he gets married in the same church I was married in. They make the paper as the first same sex couple to get married in Derry. Someone booed them as they walked to their car, but before anyone said anything, Richard flipped them off. I don’t tell Eddie, but I caught it on camera. It’s framed in my room, shameful but endearing. He doesn’t come home, but he visits often, asking for advice. We’ll have lunch together and talk about stain removal, and he’s picked up cross stitching for Richard’s anniversary gift. He’s going to make a sign that says “Tozier-Kaspbrak” for their sitting room. 


He doesn’t come home, but he visits often. Many times with Richard, and even more happily with their new daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter, so I spoil her rotten. I try not to be so overbearing as I was with Eddie. I know it had the wrong impression on him, and I don’t want her to feel the same. I give her sweets when they aren’t looking, and I teach her all about keeping a good home, and let her watch football with me when they need a babysitter. Eddie doesn’t know, but sports are a guilty pleasure of mine. I want her well rounded, too- to know that girls can like whatever they please. Her name is Amelia Isabelle, and she grows so fast. He doesn’t come home anymore, not like he used to. And I’m so, so grateful. He’s leading a good and proud life, and I’ve never been more proud to be the mother of Edward Tozier-Kaspbrak. He doesn’t come anymore, but when he visits, it’s like he never left at all. I’ve lived a good little life, I feel.



“Sonia Kaspbrak, 65, passed in her sleep in her home of Derry, Maine. Natural causes. She leaves her son, son-in-law, and granddaughter. Funeral to be held this Saturday, July 17th at the First Church of Derry. She will be fondly remembered by all who knew her. Everyone is welcome to attend the open service ceremony being held to celebrate her life. 
Thank you, 
Richard Tozier-Kaspbrak”

You’re MY Girl Pt.1

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Request from @jyttoaudios: I was wondering if u could make a smut where you and tom are friends with benefits and he gets all sensitive over the fact that your starting to see someone and it leads to to a lil angst and a lil sum sum us know what I’m saying hmmmmm

A/N: hopefully you enjoy Pt.1 xx- Mikayla


[Reader’s POV]


    Rolling over you get out of the bed quietly. Picking up your phone and unplugging it off the charger. Bending down you pick up a shirt slipping the article of clothing on. Looking back at the bed, your longing gaze breaking as you exit the bedroom. Your feet padded against the flooring slightly as you headed towards the stairs. Memories of last night flashed through your head sending a throbbing sensation down to your core.


   Yawning and stretching your arms as you made it down each step slowly. Your body exhausted from the night before. Tessa’s tags jingled made you look over. She was standing on the couch now looking at you. A happy smile on her sweet face. Walking over you press a kiss to her head and rub her ears. Seeing a happy Tess when you woke up always made your day.


   Tessa jumps off the couch and follows you towards the kitchen. Clicking the power button on your phone to see it’s twelve thirty. Turning on the coffee pot you lean against the counter. Your hip slightly digging into the counter which you regretted quickly. A twinge of pain makes you stop leaning against the counter and lift your shirt up.


   Your skin was tinted purple with long bruises from where Tom’s fingers were last night. The skin sensitive and dark in some areas. A loud sound comes from the coffee machine indicating the coffee was ready. Moving your coffee mug you grasp the handle and pull it out of its home. Pouring the hot liquid in the cup your phone starts ringing loudly.


   Putting the coffee away you reach to grab your ringing phone. You were afraid the sound would rise upstairs and wake Tom. Almost dropping it out of quickly grabbing it you let out a sigh of relief when it doesn’t fall. Hitting the green button you raise the phone to your ear. A smile on your face after you saw who was calling.


“Good morning, you still on for today?” He asks as you reach for the dog food. Placing it on the counter you grab Tessa’s bowl.


“Yeah, I’m at a friends house so I’ll have to go home and get ready for tonight” Filling up the bowl you see her waiting by her water bowl. Tail wagging happily as she awaits her food. Setting it down you pat her head and she starts munching away.


“I bet you’ll look gorgeous no matter what” his voice was deep from him probably just waking up. He’s the one you’ve been calling when you couldn’t talk to Tom. It was hard just being friends with benefits with Tom. You wanted a relationship aspect.


“Oh stop it Leo, you’re such a charmer” you giggle taking a sip of your coffee. The caffeine rushing through your system to wake you up. The two of you had plans to meet at a coffee shop to just have a relaxing date. Coffee was perfect because you had to work on a term paper that night anyways. If you had tea you would want to wind down and procrastinate longer on your assignment.


“I can’t help it you’re absolutely stunning, I don’t know how anyone can pass you up” he chuckles making you smile. You couldn’t help but blush at what he says.



“Alright well I’ll see you soon okay?”



“Later love, see you soon” the line ends with a beep as you set your phone down on the counter. Tessa barks loudly making you turn around to see Tom walking over shirtless and in sweatpants. Your eyes traveling down his body admiring his abs.


“Good morning love, you’re up early” Tom grins sleepily walking towards you. Reaching up he runs his fingers through his tousled curls. His bicep flexing as he did that motion. Tom is irresistible with that body of his. Placing your mug by the sink it clinks against the countertop.


“I have plans today, I needed coffee to wake myself up even more” you explain as he gets closer to you. Backing you against the counter with nowhere to go. The feeling of your heart beating faster and faster started making you uneasy.


“I thought we were going to spend the day together since I’m back in town?” the warmth of his hand against your cheek was soothing. Leaning your face into the skin of his palm you let out a sigh.


“Well I made plans before you came back, I’ll be home for you tonight isn’t that fair enough?” it was unfair that you had to revolve your plans around him. You were the one always having to wait for him to come home. With this friends with benefits situation and adding that he’s a celebrity made it feel like a one way street.


“You always spend the time I’m here with me an-”


“I have to go get my stuff so I can leave” Brushing past Tom you head back towards the stairs. He smelled heavenly and you needed to leave as soon as you could. He was too damn tempting for your own good. That’s probably why you go back to him all the time. You just couldn’t stay away.


  Walking into Tom’s room you see your clothes littered across the floor. Your heels were on separate sides of the room. Not even remembering how they got there. Taking off Tom’s t-shirt you pick up your dress off of the floor. Slipping it on you then pick up both of your heels. Putting them you groan realizing this looks like a walk of shame.


   Rolling your eyes because of how it looks you grab your purse that was at the foot of the bed on the ground. Grabbing it you take a cursory glance of his room. Just to see if you left anything. Leaving the room you make your way down the stairs. Your heels clicked once they made contact with the wood flooring when you reached the bottom.


“Have fun on your date” Tom’s voice comes from around the corner. Turning the corner you see him holding your phone. The screen lighting up with notifications on the screen.


“You didn’t go through my phone did you?” snatching it out of his grasp you see Leo’s name on the messages. Your eyes scanning the messages quickly checking he didn’t say anything. You were pretty sure Tom didn’t know your password.


“That you two are meeting at our spot? No I didn’t go through your phone but I did answer it” your eyes widening at what he just said. He could have said something to Leo and you have no clue what it could have been.


“Fuck you Holland..” you grit pushing him away from you. His bare chest firm under your palm.


“Well you did last night.. Might I add you weren’t complaining either” his cocky smirk plastered on his face. You wanted to slap it off so hard, your hand was trembling by your side.


“I can’t believe you’re acting like this.. It’s like you’re envious Tom” the tone that voice had was flat as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes crossing his arms, biceps bulging when he did that.

“I’m am not.. Who is this guy anyways?”


“I don’t have to tell you anything Tom.. I’ll see you tonight” taking your car keys off the hook you leave his house. Closing the door a little harder than normal you take a deep breath. Making your way across the street you walk down the sidewalk towards your car.


   Pulling your glasses out you put them on. Unlocking your car you get in and take off towards your home. Your phone was ringing but you just ignored it. At the moment you didn’t want to talk to anyone because of how frustrated Tom made you feel. All the time it was an array of emotions.


“I can’t believe he answered the goddamn phone” you mutter to yourself as you turn the corner and proceed down the road. Your phones loud ringing makes you emit an annoyed growl. Reaching over you pick up your phone off of the seat.


“What is it Tom, I’m not going back to your house for a -”


“Uh love.. It’s Leo is everything okay? So you really were at a guys house?” his question making your heart drop. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid.


“I just crashed at his place is all, I got too drunk to drive home” you lie gritting your teeth after cause lying was the thing you hated the most.


“I’ll see you at the coffee shop later, just wanted to check on you after what he sa-”


“What did he say?” the sound of your voice rose a bit from your nerves. You hated every second of what’s happening at the moment.


“That you stayed the night with him in his bed”


“Of course he would say that” you huff out resting your phone on your shoulder as your cheek was pressed against your phone. The position keeping it in place as you made your way home. You normally had to drive around for a while before going home. Paparazzi loved to follow you around and it was fucking obnoxious. Sadly that’s what you get for being in any proximity of Tom.


“I’m sorry what he said Leo, we just go way back and Tom’s a little asshole alright?” quoting Mackie as you get out of your car once it’s in park. Leo says his goodbyes before you hang up the phone holding it in your left hand.The gravel next to your driveway crunched under your heels as you walked towards your front door. Fishing out your keys from your purse you put the key in the lock.


   Turning the key you twist the handle opening the door. It creaked as the door moved with you walking inside. The heater doing it’s job welcoming you into warmth. Today was a chilly day in London and you were glad your heater wasn’t broken. It had a tendency to break when you desperately needed it the most.


    Your dog comes walking up to you with a happy bark. Kneeling down you ruffle her ears. Her spotted tongue sticking out from the side of her mouth. Pressing a kiss to her head you stand up and walk to the kitchen. Pictures of you and Tom from when you first became friends were around your house. Especially the ones of the events you went to. Along with your family you had photos with Tom’s family.


    Picking up Kayley’s water bowl you hold it under the sink as you fill it up. Her tags jingle making you look over. She was jumping up and down, her long tail wagging in excitement. She was a year older than Tessa but bigger due to being a Rottweiler mix Lab. The two of them were best buds whenever you would have Tessa over to watch her if Nikki couldn’t.


“C’mon love let’s go to the closet and pick out an outfit for tonight yeah?” after you set her bowl down she follows you upstairs. Kayley of course made it up the stairs first as always. She sat at the top waiting for you to make it up the stairs.




   The lighting of the coffee shop was dim thankfully. Your migraine had grown over the span of time that you were home. Tom was trying to lure you back to his place. All he wanted was a hookup and today you just wanted to be with Leo. Locking your door you one more time you turn and head towards the doorway.


   Opening the door you head inside the cozy warm building. Shrugging off your coat and slinging it over your arm. Looking around your eyes scan the room for Leo. His dark hair was the first thing you saw. Leo’s eyes met yours and a smile raising to his face. His smile infectious as one rose to your face. He truly is a handsome man with his ocean blue eyes. Those eyes that made you feel as if you were drifting out to see the longer you looked into them.


“Hey love, can you believe the weather outside?” his accent thicker in person than on the phone. Setting your coat down on the chair at your table you give him a peck on the cheek.


“I’m honestly glad I brought a jacket” realizing it’s a jacket Tom bought you instantly making you mentally face palm yourself. The barista keeps looking over at you making you uncomfortable. She knew you came here with Tom often.


   As time went by the more and more you found out about Leo. Sure you two have been talking for two months but now you seemed to find out even more. He told you about the adventures he went on when he traveled last summer. That was one of your favorite things, traveling. You wish you could’ve traveled with Tom but his manager didn’t want people getting the wrong Idea.


   Which made it harder for you because you fell for Tom. Feelings took over and destroyed your thoughts on being friends with benefits. You never truly knew how Tom felt about you so you just kept letting that arrangement continue. The longer Tom was away the more you felt alone. That’s a big reason why you started trying to find someone. When you finally met Leo you thought things could change. After today you knew it was going to end badly.


“Now what was it that you really wanted to talk about, you said you needed to be honest with me about something” Leo hands you your coffee that he ordered for you. Earlier you sent him a text of what you wanted.


“I wanted to explain more about earlier and why I was really at Tom’s house”sweat started to form on your palms. Nerves were kicking in on how you were going to explain this. Praying to God he would understand everything.


“So you took him to our place and in our spot?” the familiar voice making you freeze in your spot. Your eyes wide seeing Leo’s facial expression turn into confusion. Looking back you see Tom in a black coat and his curls slightly messy from the wind. His fingers run through them smoothing down a bit.


“What do you mean by our?” Leo questions raising an eyebrow looking between the two of you. Before you could say anything Tom has a smirk on his face. That damn fucking smirk.


“As in her and I come here, this is our spot and you coincidently choose our spot before she came here?”


“Tom stop it now, go home I said I’d see you later and now is not later” you huff standing up so you’re now looking up at him. Some people looked over and some had their phones out. The last thing Tom needed was drama being started.


“So this is the famous Tom Holland” Leo says bluntly standing up from his seat. You looked over at him questioningly because you never mentioned Tom’s last name.


“Yeah I am.. Oh darling.. You forgot these in my bed last night” Tom reaches into his pocket pulling out your red lace thong. A gasp leaves your mouth as you snatch them out of his hand. Reaching for your purse you put them in there. Your cheeks were flaming from embarrassment.


“Is that what you wanted to tell me about? That you’re sleeping with him?” Leo’s tone was flat as he looked down at you. His figure was a bit taller than Tom’s so you felt like he was towering over you.


“Are you mad she was calling my name out last night and not yours?” Tom sounded so smug as he brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek. Tom’s lips press against yours in a quick kiss. Your hands naturally going to his face , his jawline against your palm. Tom pulls away from the kiss , his fingers still holding your chin. Looking over you see Leo looking pissed off at the two of you.


“ Why you lil-” Leo lunges at Tom making your fight or flight instincts kick in. The name that comes out of your lips surprises you. Stepping in front of Tom, Leo’s fist ends up hitting you instead. A whimper of pain escaping your lips as Tom pulls you into his arms.


“I-I’m so sorry” Leo looks panicked as he sees you rubbing the sore spot on your shoulder. Tom’s arm rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. All that was happening you were shaking like a chihuahua.


“Ever come near her again and you won’t like what I will do, got it?” Tom grits out at Leo, his body tense as you leaned against him.


“If I would have known you were whoring around with him I would have never considered dating y-”


“Get the fuck out of here before I beat the fuck out of you for hitting my girl” his voice lashed out at Leo making the coffee shop go silent. Leo mumbled something before taking off towards the entrance.


    Looking around there were people with their phones out. The barista comes over telling people to please put their phones away. She sticks her arms out standing in the way blocking people. Tom’s finger lifted your chin so you’d look up at him. His eyes looked concerned as he gazed down at you. A bit of your heart shattered as you looked at him. Your chance of a normal relationship just went out the door.


“C’mon darling, let’s go home.. We need to talk about things”


@martymarmine13 @pleasantdreamqueen @goldenchemistry @lovelyttom @thelifeofanengineeringstudent @haileyyy0604 @glittermysoulhidesbehind @curly-haired-holland @mossyfeet @kaylaleslie1120 @bxndsaf @krystalsawallflowerr @everything-tholland @crimson-vodka @boringrayofsunshine @bruhjustdont @woahayana @isabellyduh @rlupin-moony @aurelialemarier @donttellpeterparker @xcrawlerwood @ever-since-only-angel  @mendes-holland @abbytaco15 @muffinfangirl28 @spider-junkie @mikalaka @amyyleblanc1999  @emmaduval2000 @jayzayy @tomblrholland @aliedelanie @hollandstanleythomas @allenviedthoughts @theonlyonelives @hoodgirlxoxo @sincerelylisalynn @enoumen-t @lunalife101 @ladyteacups @lovemalikstyles @pitubea1910 @ladyteacups @cameotri @skebbles @mcheung0314 @scm435 @the-hot-fangirl @fwmholland @multifandom-hoellander @tomhollabackk @bellemudder21 @alecxisantisocial @marvelstrashcan @sunshinekittxn @bi-holland @purple-storms-blog @dumb-and-dumber- @i-love-superhero @tomstanleydutch @potterhead1265

(Some names when I click on them won’t let me tag for some reason 😔)

smut for pt. 2 

Originally posted by dynode

BTS Reaction: Them finishing quickly due to it being so long since they’ve had sex with their s/o

(SMUT) Anon Request


Yoongi

You felt him fill you up over and over as his thrusts became harder, making it impossible for you to keep quiet. You clung to his body tight, missing him against your body so much while he had been on tour for months. The unusual loud grunts and the occasional low growl from him told you just how much he had missed you too. Being too lost in the moment, you barely noticed his head move to the crook of your neck, and his hips stuttered in their movement before a deep groan left his mouth. He stopped his movements, panting hard as he looked up at you, slightly apologetic. 

“Yoongi did you just?”

He kissed you slowly as he pulled out of you. 

“Sorry baby, you felt too good. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to take that as a compliment instead of being annoyed.

“Well, you better be ready to work yourself up again, because if you’re going to be lasting this long in the time I’m with you we’re going to have a problem.”

He laughed at your bluntness, slowly moving south down your body.

“Awe baby, you love my tongue just as much.” 

You bit your lip hard as he rested his head against the inside of your thigh. 

“Mark this as round 1. I love your tongue, but I love your cock more.”

Hoseok

His grunts were loud in your ear as he had you pinned up against his studio door, pounding into you at an insane speed. You could almost see stars, making you forget about anyone else that could possibly see through the fogged glass of his door or hear for that matter. It had been so long for the both of you and the feeling of him inside you was just sending the both of you crazy. When you felt him pull you closer to his body, his mouth attacked your neck, marking you all over your exposed skin. 

“Y/n…”

He muffled against your neck and his hips snapped against yours harder than before, causing a loud gasp to escape your mouth.

“Y/n, I can’t…”

His words were cut off by the long moan that left his mouth, his hips stopping for a second before he slowly rode out his orgasm. 

“Hobi.”

You whined as he pulled out of you, the embarrassment clear on his face. You pouted towards him and his eyes finally met your own.

“Sweetie, I’m really sorry. It’s been a while.”

He grabbed onto your hand softly, holding it against his chest as he leaned down to kiss you. You kissed him back softly, running your hands through his hair. 

“Are you gunna make it up to me?” 

You said, batting your eyes at him. He giggled towards you and pulled you over to his chair. 

“I’m going to make round two all about you sweetie.” 

Seokjin

He had made the effort to set up his bedroom all romantic for your arrival back to Korea, clearly planning out exactly what would have naturally happened anyway. At this point, the candle light and rose petals were a blur in your vision as you felt him thrust into you deeply against his bed. He peppered kisses all over you, from your neck to your jaw, and down to your chest. Being away from him this long didn’t do either of you any good but definitely made these times more intense. He had one hand pinning your arm above your head as he kissed you deeply, his other gripping your hip as his thrusts picked up a little. He suddenly parted from the kiss and you heard the shaky sigh that left his mouth as he hung his head against your shoulder. As you felt him fill you up, you sighed contently even though the experience was quick. As he pulled out, he kissed you quickly, moving to the side of you with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

“Missed me so much you couldn’t hold it in a bit longer hm?”

You said, holding back a small laugh, hoping to not offend him. 

“Jagiya, I’m sorry. But I did miss you a lot. It’s so hard when you go away for that long. I lose my control.”

He giggled softly at his own remark. You cuddled closer to his body.

“It’s ok, we have a lot of time to build up your control again.”

Namjoon

He was the type to either take his time and cherish your body, or fuck you for hours until your throat ran dry and you couldn’t keep back the tears of pleasure prickling down your cheeks. Though tonight, after not seeing you for months due to work, he was acting a bit more needier than what you were used too. He was usually controlled and very aware of how he wanted things to pan out, but tonight was wild. He had you naked on the kitchen counter as he fucked you hard, his hands roaming all over your body, trying to feel every inch of your skin as his hot breath hit the side of your face. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and surprisingly, you were so close to your release. The way his hips slammed hard against you were driving you crazy and just before that heat could start building up, his teeth sunk into your shoulder, muffling the low growl he let out, his hips slowly coming to a halt. 

“Joonie no.”

You gasped out, whimpering as he pulled out slowly. He lifted your chin with his finger so your eyes met with his, a small, cocky grin on his face. 

“I would say sorry, but the way you just whined out my name was so sexy babygirl. Sexy enough for daddy to go another round and make you feel good.”

Jungkook

The boys had been cockblocking the two of you all night. Unfortunately, Jimin’s idea of throwing a dinner party right when you had returned to the country wasn’t such a good idea for the tension between you and your boyfriend. Which is what led the two of you sneaking away to the bathroom while the boys were preoccupied with a dumb drinking game. The two of you stood in front of the bathroom mirror as he took you from behind, your skirt hiked up above your waist and your panties pushed to the side as he fucked you hard. One of his hands were hidden under the front of your shirt as he played around with your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, while the other was covering your mouth to keep you quiet. The sound of his hips hitting your ass was the loudest noise in the room though you couldn’t find the sanity to care as he fucked you faster and harder. Your eyes never left his as you watched each other through the mirror.

“F-fuck, y/n.”

You heard him stutter as he slammed into you hard one last time, an audible gasp leaving your lips through his hand as you felt him fill you up. As he pulled out, he took a second to catch his breath as you fixed yourself up. 

“That didn’t take long. Almost as quick as when I took your virginity.”

You smirked and looked towards him as he zipped the fly of his pants up. He stared towards you with a dark expression, then suddenly, spinning you around quickly, he lifted your skirt up again and smacked your ass hard. You yelped softly, enjoying it more than anything. You saw him with an evil grin in the mirror and tried to hold back your laughter by biting your lip. His hands gripped your hips hard as he came up next to your ear.

“Watch what you say princess, I might just not let you cum later on if you’re going to be cocky about it.”

You bit your lip and shot him your sexiest stare, rubbing your ass against his crotch. 

“Was that wrong of me? Am I going to be punished when we get home? Have I been a bad girl?” 

You whined out. He just laughed evilly, smacking your ass lightly again as he pushed you towards the door. 

“You got no fucking idea baby.”

Jimin

You had been teasing him the whole trip home, groping him, pulling his hair, whispering dirty things in his ear and also delaying the time it could’ve taken you both to get home by stopping into the shops. It was dark when you pulled over into an almost empty car park and that’s when he took the opportunity to shut you up. You were quickly sprawled out on the back seat of your car, Jimin fucking you hard and fast, not caring about who heard the two of you from outside. The windows were already fogged up and you found the fact that he got so worked up over your actions earlier so hot that the heat in your body was rising quicker then usual. It had also been so long since the two of you had been together, causing a huge amount of sexual tension and cravings. You decided to test the waters though. 

“Jimin Oppa.”

You moaned out softly. You watched his breath hitch in his throat and a little choked moan came out of his mouth as he stared down at you.

“Y/n, don’t.”

He whispered in a slightly seductive tone. You didn’t care though, ignoring what he said.

“Oppa.”

You moaned out louder then before, causing him to thrust hard into you a few more times as you felt him cum inside you. 

“Shit.”

He said breathlessly, laying on top of you. There was a small silence before you spoke.

“Did that really set you off early?”

You said giggling. He shied away a little bit as you both sat up, attempting to get dressed quickly. 

“Hey! You’ve been messing with me all night. Plus I haven’t seen you in months. Plus, You haven’t called me Oppa since we were in high school.”

He said the last part hushed and you could tell he was embarrassed by it.

“But you liked it, right?”

You watched him nod slowly, finally his eyes meeting with yours. You laughed towards him, scooting closer to hug him. 

“I missed you Oppa.”

Taehyung

You had offered to pick your boyfriend up from the airport on the day he arrived, but quickly shutting you down, he didn’t want to put you out of your schedule for the day. It was a little odd seeing as you hadn’t seen him for months, but you took the time to dress up in something you knew he’d like when he arrived to your apartment. When he had finally shown up at your front door, you opened it wearing only a white-floral, mesh bra that tied up around your neck, basically see through, along with a matching, white thong that had a small crystal hanging above your backside, making you feel extra seductive. His reaction was clearly what lead you both to the bedroom. Disregarding your underwear all over the floor of the living room, obviously desperate to get what he wanted. He lay beneath you as you rode him slowly, his length filling you up exactly how you remembered and exactly how you missed. You watched his eyes roam over your body as you placed your hands on his chest. His hands wondering from your hips, up your stomach and then finally, to your breasts. Your body finally felt content having him home again and just as you were about to speed up, he flipped you over onto your back.

“Tae.”

You said breathlessly as he sped up, thrusting harder into you, making it impossible for you to keep quiet, as well as him. His forehead rested against yours as he kept moving, his eyes baring into yours and then, they fluttered shut and his movement slowed right down as his mouth hung open, choked moans escaping his lips. He moved off of you slowly, laying on his back next to you as he calmed down. Then he reached his arms out to you, pulling you against his chest. 

“Sorry.”

He said slightly laughing at the situation. You sat up suddenly pouting at him, and he laughed even more and attempted to sit up as well, but you pushed him back down. 

“No, no. You’re helping me out until you’re ready to go again.”

You said quickly climbing on top of him, positioning in between your thighs above his head. You saw the smirk on his face as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you down closer to his lips. your hands moved down and gripped his hair softly. 

“It won’t take me long, I missed you too much so get ready for an all nighter.” 

this gif … I wanna sit on his face


I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE GIFS CREDITS TO GIF OWNERS

A/N: As you can see, the more I wrote, the more I got carried away and detailed. Actually, Writing Jungkook’s killed me. Like every time I write something about Jungkook, I start thinking about him and I wanna tell him to swerve because he ain’t my boy but like, he’s too god dam sexy! dw Tae you still the number one like slay me now! Anyway I really hope you all enjoy this! I had so much fun writing it and more requests will be posted soon! Mwah! x