What kind of friend are you? <3 If you could write a little more please! Your blog is amazing btw
i’m the one that adores teasing!!!!! it’s my weakness, i adore sassy talks with my friends or comunicating only through body language ( winks, eye rolls, smirks mmm) !! funny flirting & deep talks & good laugh & mutual silence… i’m loyal to people the closest to me, i try to make them as happy and as free as it’s possible! also it’s kinda my thing to give small hidden gifs to them, little things they find when i’m not around. i have a meme for everything, spamming the hell out of them in our chats hahha! also the one that sometimes needs to get away but comes back after some time! i cant imagine not giving someone a nickname my life depends on it hahaha!! i’m ur ride or die friend uhuhu
Had a good talk with my Mom yesterday. We talked nostalgia, fun and memories. She told me all about the night she saw The Beatles at the Municipal Stadium, here in Kansas City in 1964 with my Dad for a whopping $8.00. I can’t even wrap my head around that. But then, at the time, no one knew? This is her original copy of “Meet The Beatles” along with a favorite from my collection. I think her rock and roll musical taste and fancy for collecting may have rubbed off on me I’m thankful for her. I’m thankful for all the things she allowed me to get into. Even the things she didn’t quite understand (KISS). Any parent, who says nothing as their teenager plasters their walls with rock and roll posters, is pretty alright in my book.
Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.
But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.
Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.
Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.
He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One. He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)
He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible.
Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.
He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –
Headed back down south Gonna see my daddy’s mistress Gonna buy back her forgiveness Pay off every witness
When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.
It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.
I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with atbest a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?
There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth. The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.
(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)
The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.
The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy. Specifically, it was the lines
Forgiveness Can you imagine? Forgiveness Can you imagine?
What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.
(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)
In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs? He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.
At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it.
ok so with Hiveswap out ive been thinking about Homestuck a lot lot more. I refuse to let myself fall into the state of obsession I was once in but I had a thought and I couldn’t not share it. I was thinking about the role Zodiac signs play in Homestuck and that lead me to think about the Tarot. Where I had a realization, the 22 sburb players and the 22 major arcana have waaaaaaay too many similarities. Here’s my thought process:
John: “The Fool” not only is it the first Arcana but also John tends to know nothing as we mainly learn the rules of the universe through him. Also his character is mega centralized around comedy and practical humor, Sassacre’s text being the prime example.
Rose: “The Moon” this is due to her mysticism with dark yet benevolent forces such as the Horrorterrors as well as Grimdarkness
Dave: “The Hanged Man” the part of Dave’s classpect that makes him so powerful is his use of the Doomed Dave’s (prime example being Davesprite) existence. They can lead him in the right direction and assist him as well as harm him but they are always sentenced to death regardless.
Jade: “The World” her classpect manipulates the physical and spacial properties of the the universe, as well as her actions in minimizing the worlds of the inciphisphere and leading them to the new session.
Aradia: “Death” The role the concept of death plays in her character as well as her constant infatuation with the concept of funerals and corpses speaks enough.
Tavros: “The Chariot” so obviously Tavros uses a lance and a wheeled machine but beyond that, Tavros’ entire character development, as well as his role as a Page is based around moving forward and looking straight ahead.
Sollux: “The Lovers” a little less obvious but hear me out. Sollux’s whole character is centered around duality, and every major point of conflict for Sollux is based around failed romance, his matespritship with Aradia that lead to her death, as well as his budding moirallegience with Feferi that lead to her death, and his (½) death.
Karkat: “The Emperor” Karkat makes a very clear point in being the leader of the situation, his rancorous nature, as well as his strife specibus being sicklekind also speak to this.
Nepeta: “The Hermit” Nepeta often keeps herself isolated due to Equius’ wishes, she even lives in a cave.
Kanaya: “The Sun” this is due to her relationship with the green sun as a rainbow drinker as well as her being the only troll to ever enjoy sunlight.
Terezi: “Justice” I find this one is fairly obvious from her introduction scene with the scalemate trial as well as her confrontation with Vriska.
Vriska: “The Wheel of Fortune” her powers and her weapon both rely on her good fortune. Her strife specibus revolves around the idea of rolling a dice, or alternatively, spinning a wheel
Equius: “Strength” Not only is there the obvious implication in his muscles, but Equius always has infatuation with the strength of others, as to why he despises many lowbloods and refuses to lay a hand on highbloods.
Eridan: “The Magician” From the first moment we see Eridan he constantly refers to his hobby with magic, his strife specibus for a period of time is wandkind, and even though he states he doesn’t believe in magic, he also is known to state many other things about himself that are clearly denial. The part he plays as an angel slayer also brings black magic to mind.
Feferi: “The High Priestess” Originally I believed Feferi was the Empress but with more thought I find that role goes better toward another player. Feferi, although royal, never rules, instead she heals all, not just the royally blooded.
Jane: “The Empress” Her assosciation with the “batterwitch” and The Condensce, the real Empress of Alternia, is enough to speak to Jane being represented by the Empress Arcana.
Roxy: “Temperance” Her entire arc around recovering from alcoholism.
Dirk: “The Tower” His early character revolves around being hard to approach and distant from the rest of the group.
Jake: “The Hierophant” His intrigue with ancient ruins and treasure. His whole reputation as an adventurer really.
Calliope: “The Star” Kind and bright she supports the Alpha kids from afar and spreads positivity.
Caliborn: “Judgement” Lord English plays the role of a god-like figure, administering what ever it wants to do and believes it should.
Thoughts? It seems too damn convenient for it to just be a coincidence.
EDIT: oops, forgot, Gamzee is the Devil Arcana for obvious reasons
Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!
Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!
I’m On My Knee
“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”
Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”
Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”
Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”
“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.
Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.
She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.
“On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.
Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.
Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.
“Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”
Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.
She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.
The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.
Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.
The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”
Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck. Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.
That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.
Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.
The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.
Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”
“No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.
“Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.
Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”
Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.
Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.
When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.
“Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.
As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”
She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.
As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.
Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.
He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.
It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.
Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.
Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.
Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”
As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.
At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.
His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”
Request by anon: hi, can you please do a peter parker x reader imagine where the reader is tony starks daughter or something and she and peter hate each other but they low key have sexual tension or something like that? and the imagine ends with them kissing or something? idk sorry if that didn’t make sense
No spoilers homie
Y/N Stark always wanted a normal life. She hated being known as Iron Man’s daughter. She hated not being a normal teenager. For her entire life, she was home schooled,being taught from the best in New York. So of course, she wanted to go to a high school, to have the experience of hating her teachers and falling in love.
The first day of freshmen year was strange at Midtown High, most people didn’t know who she was until she told them her name. Rumors had been going around about the infamous Y/N Stark was attending Midtown, but nobody thought of it to be true.
Teachers would kiss up to her, not wanting to face the wrath of her father, Tony Stark. Everyone wanted to be her friend by the Friday of her first week in high school, everyone but one person, Peter Parker. He hated how she got treated like royalty by the teacher and the students, especially Flash, who did anything to get her attention. He hated how her grades were as good as his. The whole school knew about their rivalry quickly into freshmen year.
After Peter got bitten by the radioactive spider that gave him his powers, he knew he had to do something with his ability. Like his Uncle said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” This only convinced him more that he should be out there, protecting the people of New York. He was also happy that he finally got something that Y/N didn’t have.
He would never admit it to anyone, but he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. When she was around him, he was captivated by her beauty. They would share glances in the hallway but would both quickly look away from embarrassment.
Y/N didn’t hate him, she tried to be nice to him. She didn’t like how her dad gave Peter all of his attention, but she understood it was for a good reason. The two teens were always battling for first place for everything such as science fairs and debates. They were always neck and neck, him beating her as much as she did him. But, she thought it was cute when Peter did little things like tap his fingertips on his desk when he was nervous or whenever he spoke, she was drawn to his lips. She thought Peter was cute in general.
Most people saw his ‘hatred’ for her as love masked with hate. Everyone thought that by the end of high school the two would be dating. Peter’s friends tried convincing him to talk to her, nicely, but he wouldn’t. Y/N’s friends tried to get the two smartest kids at Midtown High together, but it just failed.
“Hey Dad?” Y/N asked while she sat at the dinner table alone with her father. He looked up from his food, “Hmm?” He mumbled back to her, with food in his mouth.
“Can I go to a-a party tonight?” She questioned, playing with the food on her fork.
“Where is it?” Tony asked, stuffing food into his mouth. Y/N looked up at him, “Queens. In the suburbs. A lot of my friends are going.” She added.
Tony nodded his head, “Fine you can go.” Y/N looked at her dad, eyes wide. “Really?” She exclaimed.
“Yes. But no drinking,” He stated, pointing his finger at her but paused, “Okay. Minimal drinking.”
Y/N smiled widely, nodding her head muttering, “Yeah, yeah of course. Thank you.” She ran up to Tony and hugged him.
She left her chair and went to hug him. “Let me take you.” He said as he hugged her back. Y/N pulled away furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused at the man, “Why?” Usually if Y/N had somewhere to be, Tony made someone else take her so the act was strange.
Tony smirked, “Come on, you’d be the coolest person there because I have sweet cars.” Y/N nodded her head, agreeing with him. “Okay, well I’m gonna go get ready.” She beamed, running up the stairs.
Tony pulled up to you’re friends house, music blaring and red solo cups already littering the ground. He looked at Y/N, wondering where all the time went. “Ugh, you’re growing up, guess it had to happen sooner or later,” He joked, making Y/N giggle.
“I’m gonna go, I’ll call you when it’s over, or text you if I’m staying the night, alright?” She asked, exiting the car. Some of the teens who were standing outside or just got dropped off were staring in shock. Tony Stark just dropped his teenage daughter off at a party in a, most likely, a very expensive car.
Y/N slammed the door shut, “Bye Dad!” She waved with a smile, waiting for him to drive away.Tony smiled at his daughter, bidding his farewell before speeding away.
“God, she irritates me. She would obviously have her rich daddy drive her here in a cool ass car just to make herself look good.” Peter groaned as he went inside with Ned.
“Or maybe he wanted to take his daughter to a high school party?” Ned suggested, realizing that the statement didn’t make much sense. The boys walked over to the drink table. Booze, booze, booze. Whatever. Peter soon found the fridge and got water, in a red cup so people wouldn’t call him so prude.
Y/N had found a couple of her friends to hang out with. They were already buzzed, she wanted to stay sober just to make sure her friends got home safely.
Halfway through the party, Flash, the host, shouted, “Yo, if anyone wants to play seven minutes in heaven, bring your ass over here!”
About half a dozen people followed him. Everyone at the party was either too drunk to car about his statement or didn’t want to play the game where they were locked in a closet with a stranger. “Come on, let’s go.” One of her friends exclaimed.
“Yeah let’s go.” Herr other friend yelled.
“Um, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She shouted over the loud music. Her friends rolled their eyes and grabbed either of her arms, dragging her in Flash’s direction. The group of people who wanted to play were already there, sitting in a circle, around a bottle that was resting on a table. She looked at the faces of all the people, and was met with the grimace of Peter Parker.
Her friends found an open spot in the circle so naturally, Y/N sat with them, sitting diagonally across from Peter. “You all should know how the game works. But, to those of you who don’t [cough] Peter Parker [cough].” Flash boomed, making his friends laugh. Y/N felt bad for him, he didn’t deserve to be treated badly. No one does.
“Whoever wants to start, will spin the bottle. Whoever the bottle lands on, you have to go into that closet,” He said, pointing to a closet nearby, “for seven minutes with that person. You can do whatever you want in there cause it’ll be locked. After seven minutes I’ll open the door and yeah. Start the process over again with the person next to you. So, who’s first?”
It was about 4 rounds into the game, and Y/N was getting bored. But she was glad she didn’t have to go in yet. After a pair came out of the closet, with lipstick smeared all over their faces it was Peter’s turn. “Be cool about it, there are a lot of hot girls in this circle man.” Ned whispered when Peter spun the bottle. Peter nodded his head, agreeing with his friend.
The bottle spun slower and slower, Peter’s hands were starting to get clammy. The bottle stopped and he looked up from the green glass. The person sitting in front of it was none other than Y/N Stark. All the teenagers froze, shocked at what had happened. “I-I gotta go,” Peter mutter, standing up from his seat on one of the couches.
“Na-na-na-na no,” Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Flash, “You’re gonna go into that closet with your best friend Y/N.” Flash finished sarcastically, pulling Peter over to Y/N, before grabbing her arm and pushing them into the closet. Flash slammed the door closed, making the two flinch.
“Seven minutes starts now,” Flash shouted from behind the door, before walking away towards the group of teens.
It was quiet for about thirty seconds, the two both scared of talking to the other. There was enough space in the closet to leave you both a couple inches apart, but only a couple inches. “Um, I’m sorry you had to do this,” Y/N apologized sympathetically, “I should’ve never come to this stupid party.” She muttered the last part, shaking her head. Peter stayed silent, holding one arm with the other.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Y/N asked, desperate to know.
Peter sighed, “I-I don’t hate you. It’s just,” he paused, not knowing what to say, “I was so used to being the smartest kid in class and suddenly you show up, beating me in nearly everything. I guess I was just, jealous of what you had.” He admitted honestly, slightly frustrated. Looking down in between the two to look at his shoes. “You have everything in the world. You have a lot of money, a rich dad, and a bunch of friends.You’re fucking perfect. I don’t have anything like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologized again, feeling bad for him. She started playing with her thumbs, “But, I’m not perfect, I hated what I had. My rich dad gives you more attention now than he gives me because of the whole, superhero thing.” She whispered the last part, not knowing if anyone was listening, “My friends only want to be friends with me because of my name and the money I have. It sucks, ya know?” Y/N finished, a few tears leaking from her eyes.
“I, I didn’t know you felt that way,” He said, regretting the way he has treated this girl for the past couple of years. He moved forward, closing the space between them, moving his hands to cup her cheeks, brushing away her tears with his thumbs.
“You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I didn’t know what things were like for you. I am so sorry I was so rude to you.” He apologized, leaning his forehead against hers. Y/N reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.
“You didn’t know, it’s alright.” She whispered, her breath fanning against his cheeks, and a small, understanding smile on her lips.
“But it’s not alright,” Peter murmured, rubbing one of his thumbs on her cheek. Y/N closed her eyes for a second, “If you kiss me, I’ll forgive you.” He looked at her slightly shocked. But he closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to the right before leaning in and capturing her lips with his. She closed her eyes once again, putting her arms around his neck and her hands into his hair.
His lips were soft, and hers tasted like candy. Her nose brushed against his cheek, but the act went unnoticed. She started playing with his hair, twirling it around her fingers.
Unbeknownst to Peter and Y/N, Flash shouted that the seven minutes were up. He moved towards the wooden door, not hearing anything coming from the other side due to the loud music. He went to unlock the door. When it opened, he froze. “Holy shit!” Flash shouted making the two kissing immediately pull apart, out of breath.
Peter had a blush rising on his face, mimicking Y/N’s. Most of the people who were playing were curious at what was happening, a crowd forming around the door. “They were just making out!” Flash shouted with a smirk on his lips, making the blush on Peter and Y/N’s face deepen.
“Alright Parker!” Someone in the crowd of people yelled, making Y/N stifle a laugh. Peter glared at her playfully. The crowd of people began to fade away, Flash telling the two to get out of the closet for the next round of people to go in.
Peter and Y/N walked to a place in the house where there wasn’t a herd of people. “So, do you want to go to the movies with me sometime?” Peter stammered, nervous about what her answer might be. Y/N smiled, “I would love too, Peter. Now, go enjoy the rest of the party. I have to go deal with my drunk friends.” She chuckled starting to back away.
Peter nodded his head understandingly, “I’ll text you then. Yeah?”
Y/N tilted her heard to the side slightly. “You better. You don’t want to make a Stark angry.” She said with a chuckle, walking back towards her friends.
Peter fist bumped the air, before whispering to himself, “I have a date….. awesome.”
one of the things I was most excited about when I got a drone was the ability to see some of my favourite places from a new angle. The very first night I was over at my favourite barn at sunset.
only thing is there is a massive hawk that likes to perch on the edge of the barn at sunset and look for dinner. I don’t want my drone to be dinner.
so I went back, and I went back, and I went back. four separate sunsets gambled (and mostly spent) on this place and when I rolled up last night there wasn’t a single hawk on the perch.
there were two.
I pulled in to turn around because I’m not going to purposely scare an animal out of it’s dinner hour just so you kids can see pretty pictures but a huge monster truck went by right then (i’ve never had anything good happen around one of those souped up pickup trucks till now) and they took off for deeper fields.
I flew for a single battery, getting some photos and video then heard them screeching around in nearby trees and packed it in.
i think the first few times he ate you out, he would somewhat- semi- gentle. he wouldn’t go SUPER fast, and he would take his time, trying to figure out what you like. in a way he would be sweet, trying to find what makes you cum the fastest. but WHEN HE DID FINALLY FIGURE IT OUT HE WOULD GO FULL SPEED. SUCKING, LICKING, BITING EVERYTHING. god help me.
oh man holy shit. his tongue would be massaging every inch of your pussy. it was like he couldn’t get enough of your juices. he would also mumble against you, “god kitten, you taste so good.”. his fingers would be wrapped around your thighs, his nails digging slightly into you. when he finally made you cum, you would be a SHAKING mess underneath him.
he would writing the alphabet with his tongue as he ate you out. he would circle your clit, making it harder within seconds. one of his hands would be on your thigh as the other one would reach up and squeeze your nipple, rolling it around inbetween his fingers. his tongue would reach deep inside of you, making you cum very very hard.
he loved the taste of you. so eating you out was an always. he loved the way you would squirm underneath him when he hit an extra special spot deep inside of you. he would flaten his tongue against you and start from the bottom of your slit to the top of your clit and suck- hard. when you finally did cum, he was quick to lick all fo your juices up, leaving some of it on his lips so you could tats eyourself when you kissed.
he has a very long tongue, so he can reach deep inside of you. he would start off with little kitten licks everywhere, teasing you. overtime, the licks would turn into kisses and then he’s practically making out with your pussy lips. he would clsose his eyes in concentration and open the every now and then to see you r beautiful faced scrunched up in pleasure.
rough. rough. ROUGH. his teeth would be biting every part of your pussy as he fingers dug into your thighs. his tongue would be pushed hard into you. he would flaten his tongue and unflaten it. he would groan against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout it, pushing you closer to your climax. hardcore TONGUE FUCKING. he would also LOVE to overstimulate you with his tongue, loving how you would whimper out to him for him to stop but you would cut yourself off with a loud moan.
i think it depends on jungkooks mood on how he eats you out. sometimes he’s gentle, little kitten licks and kisses. but other times his tongue is pounding into you. his groans make yo even fucking closer to cumin. he would also pull away from you at times just to tell you how good you taste and how he can never get enough. “you’re my favourite meal.”.
additional notes: god, i love loki. anyway. here’s a lil drabble for him. my favorite snake. my daisy. my cinnamon apple.
“A catnap,” you repeated. The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out, Loki at your heels. “You know, short sleeping sessions during the day to relax and recharge. But to be honest I’m usually more tired afterward.”
Loki wrinkled his nose. “Sounds useless.” He could admit that he was like a cat in many ways; he would sleep seventeen hours daily if it weren’t for you or the rest of the team urging for him to make the most of his day. He didn’t see any point in dozing for a short while, falling into a deep sleep, and having to drag himself out of it again.
“I told Thor about them a week ago. I thought he might tell you. He loves them! Wakes up feeling refreshed. Maybe you’ll like them too.”
His scowl deepened. “I suppose you bring that up to make me jealous, hm?”
Character Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Omega!Reader
Word Count: 3,511
Warnings:NSFW 18+ SMUT! Oral (female receiving), face sitting, fingering, sexual penetration, A/B/O dynamics, knotting during a heat, dirty talk, language, a NSFW gif, some mild violence, hostage situation, angst and fluff. Whew.
A/N: I like Loki… I just needed a villian.
You stole from me.
So, I stole from you.
Time is ticking.
Her clock stops at midnight.
Bucky let the cell phone drop from his hands. He heard the screen shatter when it hit the pavement. He looked down at the glass shards that scattered across his boots. They blurred in his vision.
Rage warmed his blood as fear chilled his bones.
The feral howl that ripped from his chest echoed through the morning fog surrounding the cabin.
Summary: You’re in charge of homecoming but you don’t have a date.
A/N: OK, honestly I’m so proud of this you guys. It was like ten pages on a google docs. I hope you like it. I know a lot of people want a part 2 to twist of fate, and that will most likely happen pretty soon! But I want to do this as a series as well so we’ll see. Anyway, hope you all like it. I love the feedback, by the way, so tell me what you think!
Gif is not mine, belongs to the owner.
The sound of the phone ringing woke you up. Startled, you ran a hand through your hair and looked around before registering where you were. Home. In bed. Things were normal again, right?
Wrong. It was two a.m and the phone was ringing. Why did your parents agree to get you your own line? You quickly flicked on your bedside lamp and then picked up the receiver. “Hello?” You mumbled barely coherently, slowly sitting up in bed.
“Y/N?” It was Steve. You could tell by the way he pronounced your name. Just slightly different than everyone else did. Like it had more meaning coming from his mouth.
You let out a long yawn. “Yeah, Steve. It’s me. What’s going on? Why are you calling me at-“ you glanced over at the clock on your night stand. “Two thirteen in the morning?”
“I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice, all groggy and deeper than usual. “Let me apologize. Let me make it up to you. I fucked up, okay-“
“Fucked up is putting it lightly,” you cut him off, your words sharp like daggers. “I don’t want to talk to you about it. Especially not now.”
Steve sighed on the other line. You could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. You hated that you knew him that well. “Go to sleep, Harrington,” You said, and didn’t wait for a response before hanging up the phone.
You tried to go back to sleep but your mind kept drifting back to a few days ago, when everything starting going to shit.
I’ve been feeling a bit down recently so I figured I’d try and do some fluff ones this time as a way of cheering myself up. I did NSFW ones last time if you wanna check them out. Forgive me if these seem a bit flat. Emotionally the past few days haven’t been the best for me and I feel like that might come off as gloominess in my writing.
•Given he’s at least a foot taller than your average human. He would always have to bend down to kiss you.
•Sometimes you’d wake up to see a creepy little smiley face drawn into the frost on your window. Meaning he’d dropped by last night to check on you. Just his little way of reminding you he’s always watching out for you.
On days where you feel nervous or anxious you’d notice a familiar looking off-white and red bird following you around.
•If you’d had a bad day you would head straight to the Neibolt house. You’d always want to be near him when you’re feeling depressed but not really wanting to talk a lot. Hearing you so quiet would worry him and he would always try to make you crack a smile or laugh.
•You’d explain different Halloween traditions to him excitedly because it’s the one day of the year you could go out as a couple in public. And his first reaction is “So you’re telling me kiddies just walk right up to your door, looking for a scare. Well, thats fucking great. Easy feed right there.” “Umm, I think you’re missing the point.”
•You’d get a very dramatic eye roll when you did show up on Halloween wearing your best attempt at his costume and makeup with a pile of red balloons.
•sassing him and him glaring at you when you do do that.
•“I can’t believe that stupid fucking kid called my house a crack house”. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry tho, I like your crack house.”
•Both of you sitting on the porch of the Neibolt house when a storm is rolling in. Talking about whatever was on your mind. You’d have your legs splayed out underneath you and an arm outstretched into the rain, enjoying the familiar smell it brings.
•You’d tell him you don’t mind the sewers at all. Its the people up top that scare you more.
•Telling him you want to spend the whole summer with him.
•Carrying one of his little bells around as a good luck charm.
•Doing your best to copy his maniacal clown laugh.
•Because you keep tripping or walking into things down in the dark sewers, you decide to set up some candles down there so you can see better. Pennywise isn’t too impressed now that his liar os scented and has mood lighting.
•Because your starting to spend more and more time down in the Neibolt house with him you end up moving some go your belongings there. Books, cassette tapes, maybe a favorite pillow. You accidentally left your sketchbook there once, only for him to find a few drawings of him inside. You, of course, would be embarrassed. But he would find it endearing and make you beg him to give the book back while he held it above you, just out of your reach.
•He’d pick you up and spin you around at random moments.
•When you were younger you got beat up a lot, Derry isn’t a very open-minded place. You eventually gain the reputation of being the girl you do not fuck with. Even before you knew Pennywise had his eye on you, bad things always seemed to happen to the people who mess with you. It was only later you figured out it was him. Your his precious, little human and no one is allowed to hurt you.
•There was one time on your way home a bunch of girls from school got the jump on you. One of them grabs onto your long hair, yanking it to keep you from running away. The self-proclaimed leader of the group starts kneeing you in the gut, while the rest chant insults at you. You fall to the ground which causes the tension on your scale to only get worst. Out of instinct, you’d try your best to curl up and use your arms to cover your head in order to block some of the blows. Despite your best efforts most of them would still hit their mark. Pennywise would come crawling out of the sewer at lightning speed, fangs fully exposed, causing your attackers to scatter. He managed to grab the girl that was kicking you by her neck, lifting her and making the most inhuman snarling noise. His mouth hanging open, teeth fully splayed and drool flooding past his lips. You’d never seen him look so terrifying. After that, he’d take you straight back down to the sewers. He’d feel bad seeing you sniffling back tears and whipping the blood from your busted lip onto your sleeve. He tries to comfort you by telling you he’d pick them off slowly, one by one so they knew what was coming before hugging you tightly. He wouldn’t let you leave the sewers for the next due to him being overly worried about you.
•He’d really like holding your hand. He thinks its really cute that your hand is so much smaller than his and that he basically wrap your hand up in his.
•If you’re doing something like reading where you sitting still than he’d constantly be sitting you in his lap. Because he’s so much taller than you, he would be able to rest his head on top of yours and just look down at whatever it is you’re doing.
•The first time he saw you cry, he would feel a bit awkward and not really know what to do. Eventually, he gets the hang of it tho. He’d pick you up and pull you on his lap. Wrapping his long arms around your smaller frame, rocking you back and forth and nuzzling his face against the side of yours until you calmed down and started breathing normally again. Pennywise doesn’t have a real physical heart. He would be fascinated by the sound of your heart beating. Similar to how he can smell when someone near him is afraid, he might be able to pick up when someone around him has an erratic, panicked heartbeat ( maybe our adrenaline causes something in him to react ). But he’s never just heard the steady, rhythmic thumping of a regular heartbeat. That small little organ, the thing that he generally eats is the reason you’re his. He would probably try and get either his head or his hand near your chest when you’re asleep so he can feel or hear it beating
Prompt: Fairy Tale AU for @marvelous-fvcks ‘s 3k
followers writing challenge, congratulations love!! (also I’m so so sorry that this was late!)
Summary: Working in the royal castle leaves no time to
yourself, but at the castle’s busiest time, you meet someone in the market who,
despite his charming mannerisms, hides things that you wish you could find out. Then suddenly, your worlds collide in a way you would’ve never expected.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 6128 words (woah this is the longest fic I’ve
posted oops, but it’s prob one of my cutest)
A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me.
This is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own
***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**
“Your turn,” Dean hands you the shovel, “I dug the last one.”
“Oh come on Dean,” Sam protests, “she’s had more than a month off, she-”
“She’s standing right here,” you look pointedly at Sam, taking the shovel from Dean, “I got this, you boys just stand there and look pretty.”
Sam rolls his eyes, Dean chuckles, “Do you remember how to do this sweetheart, it’s been awhile.”
“Shut up, even rusty I can dig a grave twice as fast as you,” you can’t help but smile, pushing the point into the ground, taking out the first shovel full of dirt.
“Do you want me to time you?”
You flip him off, continuing to dig as they talk for a bit, discussing the corpse that in a matter of time you will be salting and burning. After about ten inches, another shovel hits the hard ground a few feet from yours and you look up to see Dean there, “You were moving too slow.”
BTS REACTION to member walking in during shower sex
Smut week: Day 5
His lips were pressed tightly against your own as he savored your taste, his hands roaming your body. He pulled away to place kisses against your neck, surely leaving a mark. You felt as his hands started to travel lower towards your wet core, not just from the water pouring on you both. He heard your small whimper, looking over towards you to see your face as his fingers rubbed against your clit. You moaned, maybe a little too loud, as he placed a finger inside of you, curling it. He watched your face twist with pleasure, clutching your hands tightly onto his shoulders. You could feel his erection against you, and this caused you to quickly grab it, slowly jerking him off for a repayment. He groaned, kissing you again as you moaned loudly when he placed another finger in, picking up his pace. Just as you were about to cum, the door swung open, revealing a worried Namjoon.
“Are you ok- OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY,” He quickly shut the door, not even giving you and Jin a chance to react quick enough.
Jin’s hand retracted from you, making you whimper, “Well, that was a surprise,” He laughed loudly.
He had one of your legs over his shoulder, swiping a long line across your soaking folds. You moaned, begging for more of him. He growled at your words, and desperate noises, and started to delve into you. You screamed, and his eyes shot up towards you, wanting to see your face as you were being pleasured. Your eyes connected with his own dark eyes as your hand went flying towards his head, your fingers tightly grasping his hair. He growled once again, loving the way you tasted and how you pushed his head further towards your core. You moaned again, and again, and your voice cracked as you felt two fingers being quickly pushed inside of you while his tongue still stimulated your swollen clit. He groaned when you tugged a little too hard on his strands, but he loved it nonetheless. You started to roll your hips against his face, about to cum all over his wet tongue.. When Park Jimin came walking in, eyes going wide as he stared. You saw his face, and you immediately tried to pull Yoongi away from your core, but he wasn’t having it as he pressed a hand against your hip.
“Y-Yoongi.. J-Jimin is.. There,” This caused him to look behind himself to see Jimin uttering millions of ‘Sorry’s.
Yoongi growled, “You better get the fuck out of here and let me finish off my kitten, before I get really mad.”
Jimin was quick to leave, closing the door.
You gasped, “Yoongi! Why were you so rude?!”
He rolled his eyes, his face returning to your core, making you moan, “His fault for not knocking.”
He had your body pressed against the wall, fucking you from behind roughly. Your loud moans encouraged him as he went faster, feeling as your walls started to convulse around his throbbing member. He groaned at the feeling, muttering in your ear on how hot you were, and how much he loved your tight pussy wrapped around him so perfectly. You were close to cumming, feeling your stomach coil with that familiar sensation as he thrusted harder into you. You squealed, your whimpers making your voice crack in the process. He knew you were close, egging you on by telling you to cum, and cum all over his dick. You shut your eyes tightly, moaned loudly. His fingers traveled towards your clit, his talented fingers working you towards your edge. And just as you came, your scream rippling past your throat, Jungkook came walking in. Namjoon noticed him right away, groaning as he saw his shook face.
“Get the hell out, Jungkook,” Namjoon muttered, watching as the boy blushed, hurriedly rushing out. You whipped your head around, embarrassment flooding through you.
“Oh my gosh!” You squealed.
“He’ll get over it,” He laughed, thrusting into you again, needing to cum.
He had you pinned against the wall, kissing you roughly as his hands roughly gripped your hips. You ran your fingers through his wet strands, feeling as his grip tightened on you, making you moan and pull away from him. He made sure to kiss down your neck, while leaving a mark. He roughly placed one of your legs around his hip, asking if you were okay. When you eagerly nodded, he smiled, placing a quick kiss against your lips before pushing into you. You whimpered, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned, waiting for you to adjust. He started out slowly, watching as your face started to twist and turn with pleasure. When you started to moan, he picked up his pace. But just as he was about to start ramming into you, the door swings open to reveal a rather tired Yoongi. Your eyes go wide, and Hoseok stops his thrusts altogether, wondering what you were staring at. His cheeks rushed with embarrassment.
“Will you two please keep quiet? I’m trying to sleep,” And with that, he slammed the door shut.
Hoseok looked back at you, his face and ears red, “I-uh..”
You rolled your hips against his own, making him groan and forget all about Yoongi walking in just a few seconds ago.
He wanted to try something new that night. He was leaning against the wall of the shower, holding you up as your legs were tightly wrapped around him. He glided your wet folds over his dick, listening carefully to your moans at the new angle. He moaned back, his moans soft compared to your loud ones. He went slow, wanting it all to last. But the louder you moaned, and the more you begged him to finally just fuck you, he swore he was going to lose control soon. His girth felt so good inside you, and you wanted him to move faster. You started to roll your hips as much as you could in that position, and he groaned in your ear. He sped up his pace forgetting about taking it slow and wanting to hear you scream his name. You moaned loudly, it soon turning into a squeak as Jimin almost dropped you when he heard the door open. Jin was quick to close the door behind him, screaming beforehand, making you hear him. Your eyes widened, staring at Jimin with shock.
Jimin laughed, out of breath slightly, as he blushed heavily, “That was so embarrassing,” He chuckled, burying his head in the crook of your neck as you laughed with him, running your fingers through his hair.
At first it was an innocent shower, him softly placing kisses on your shoulder as he held you close to his chest, feeling as your chest pressed against his. His hands placed themselves on your waist while you softly ran your fingers through his hair while he hummed in appreciation. And, for some reason, his deep raspy voice turned you on. You quickly pressed your lips against his with a hungry moan, making his grip on you tighten. He was quick to respond, knowing what you wanted. You felt as his fingers crept towards your sopping entrance. You moaned as his slim fingers put pressure on your clit, going in slow circles. He groaned against your mouth, pulling away to bite down on your neck, making his mark on you. You moaned, throwing your head back while your hands tightened in his wet hair. He placed two of his slim, long fingers in you, making you whimper while his thumb stayed on your clit. His fingers picked up pace as he heard you moan right in his ear, your vocals echoing off the walls. Just as your walls started to tighten around his fingers and he groaned, Jung Hoseok came walking in casually. You squeaked out of surprise, Tae not noticing yet. You had to warn him as Hoseok’s eyes widened, before ushering out while screaming how sorry he was through the door.
“Go away, Hoseok-ah! I’m busy if you couldn’t tell!” When he knew Hoseok was gone, he sighed, resting his head against your shoulder, his fingers still inside you, “He just loves ruining the moment,” He chuckled softly, before moving his fingers again, “But that won’t stop me.”
Both of your legs were wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you with your back against the glass door. You moaned loudly into his ear as he whispered and groaned about how good you felt, and how much he loved to feel your wet pussy tightly around his cock. You moaned at his words, hearing him grunt when you started to clench your tight walls around him. He watched your face twist with pleasure, your eyes shut tightly as loud moans escaped that beautifully shaped mouth. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, making you hurriedly swat him away from you, wanting to suck him off until he came. He obeyed you when you moaned on how much you wanted his cock in your mouth. He groaned as he lowered you, watching you closely with dark eyes as you went on your knees. You quickly placed him in your mouth, bobbing your head furiously. He growled under his breath, tangling his fingers in your hair, pushing himself down your throat as you gagged. He enjoyed the sensation, and you could tell so you let him have his way with your mouth. Right when he came in your mouth, you swallowing it all, Taehyung came in, unaware of the both of you, before Jungkook screamed at him to get out. You got up, chuckling at Taehyung’s wide eyes as he profusely apologized, slamming the door shut.
Jungkook sighed, “Fuck, he better not think about you. You’re mine.”
You laughed, kissing him quickly, “I still need to cum, want to show me how much I belong to you?” His eyes gleamed at the request, making you smile.