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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

Leather Jacket

Note: I had this in my drafts for a while, then Sebastian decides to grace us with his leather jacket?? fucc me. I don’t even write about the leather jacket - it’s a slight mention, lawl. oh and since I’m sick, I don’t feel up to finishing requests. hopefully this ties you guys over! not really sure what it is, just go along with it. gif credit to owner! feedback is always welcome, I love reading your comments!! .c

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, I’M 20 AND WILL NOT BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHAT YOU UNDERAGE KIDS DECIDE TO READ. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. 


The heavy sound of boots with chains hanging from the shoelace loops caught your attention behind you. Your ears perked as you listened closely. Great. He’s here. You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw as the sound got closer.

Bucky Barnes was a regular in the local library, just like you were. He was cocky, he rode a black motorcycle, he was way too flirty, and he got on your nerves. He didn’t waste a single second to piss you off and make you equally as flustered at the same time. You hated him. Also, you liked him. You’d never admit that there was any sexual tension between you two. The last thing that man needs is a bigger head. No, not that one. But if you could feel that tension, you knew he could.

“Pornographic books again, Doll?” His breath fanned across your cheek as he leaned down, his arms either side of you, his large hands resting on the table. You scoffed and ignored the shiver that ran down your spine when he not-so-subtly sniffed your hair. 

“A friend recommended this one, Barnes. Now get away, you smell like burnt rubber.” You nudged your elbow against his chest and he chuckled, moving to sit across from you at the table.

Taking off his leather jacket and setting it on the table, he slumped back in his seat, trailing his hand through his hair as he grinned at you.

“Is that so? They wanna get you all hot and bothered with a book? I can do that with my words.” He challenged, his blue eyes boring right into yours. You inhaled deeply - not missing the way his eyes fell to your cleavage in your low-cut top as it rose with your air intake - and ignored him.

Your eyes fell back onto your book that rest on the table. It was silent for a few moments and you actually got lost in the fantasy, subconsciously biting your bottom lip. Your thighs squeezed together and you let your tongue slowly lick your bottom lip before turning the page.

This caught Bucky’s attention. He watched as your eyes skimmed across the pages, the way you slightly squirmed in your seat. Bucky leaned forward and rest his elbows on the table as he smirked at you.

“You’re wet.” Bucky stated lowly, his eyes focused on your lips. Your head shot up and your mouth was agape. Bucky bit his lip this time, seeing as you made the perfect ‘o’ shape. His mind raced with thoughts of what your mouth would feel like against his, and full of his-

“What are you even doing here? Go bother someone else!” You slammed your book closed and sighed heavily, bringing him out of his thoughts. A loud shush came from the little old lady that came around a bookshelf. You gave her an apologetic smile before she rolled her eyes and left the space.

Bucky chuckled and leaned back in his chair again, linking his fingers behind his head. His biceps looked as if they were ready to rip through the material of his shirt. And fuck, if that didn’t do things to you. “Come on, you know I love teasing you, Doll.” He licked his lips and you cursed yourself for feeling your panties get even more wet at the sight of his tongue.

You felt blood rush to your face and you creased your eyebrows. Okay, it’s time he gets a taste of his own medicine. You crossed your arms to purposefully push your breasts together. Bucky’s biceps flexed as his eyes took in the sight of your cleavage once again. That got a reaction you were hoping for.

“Instead of teasing me all the time, why don’t you do something about it?” You countered innocently, tilting your head slightly. You lifted your foot underneath the table and trailed it up along the inside of Bucky’s leg. He let out a harsh breath, letting his eyes travel up to your face. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

You bit your lip again and raised your eyebrows, looking at him with such innocence, he felt his jeans tighten completely. He sat there completely still and utterly shocked. You let your foot drop back down. Got him

Seeing as he wasn’t going to respond anymore, you picked your book up again, only now you held it up in front of your face and continued to read. If you weren’t in the library right now, you would laugh so hard you’d be crying. The reaction on Bucky’s face was award winning.

After finishing another paragraph, it was finally quiet again. So quiet, that you couldn’t hear Bucky’s heavy breathing anymore. You were able to finish a whole page without any interruptions from him. You were lucky to get through that much before. 

You slowly brought your book down from your face and looked at the empty seat in front of you. Bucky wasn’t there, but his leather jacket was still on the table where he left it.

You turned your head, looking all around you and didn’t spot Bucky anywhere, or rather anyone. Your eyebrows creased with confusion as you looked at his empty seat again. He was just here and you didn’t even hear him leave or see him get up. Where did he even go?

Suddenly, you felt something stubbly - much like a face - sliding in between your legs, slowly moving closer to your soaking panties. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt two hands rest on the outsides of your thighs, gently pulling them apart.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as his fingers dug into your flesh. You knew it was Bucky just by the feel of him smirking and his long hair tickling your skin. His warm breath fanned out across your clothed pussy, and you immediately regretted wearing a skirt today. Actually, you regretted waking up and coming to the library today.

Bucky’s tongue licked a stripe up your panties and you felt his warm breath huff out against you. There’s no fucking way he’s doing this right now. His hands made their way towards the hem of your panties and he slid them down to your ankles, trailing his lips down your inner thigh. He sat still and you knew he was resting a moment to take in the sight of you, spread out and wet.

Your eyes shut as you felt him slide his face between your thighs again. You swallowed harshly and felt his tongue lick another stripe up your pussy, circling around your clit. A moan almost made its way out of your mouth but you bit down on your lip.

Bucky’s mouth closed around your clit and he started to suck, using his tongue to lightly nudge against it. Your hand shot down to grip onto his hair, your fingers tangling into his long locks. This seemed to get him going; he groaned against you, but stopped once he remembered he had to stay quiet.

Your thighs shook around Bucky’s head and you inhaled deeply when you felt his finger circling around your entrance. He gently slid his finger inside of you, curling perfectly to hit your g-spot. A soft whimper fell from your lips and he smirked against you. He shook his head back and forth and pulled you closer with his left hand.

You slapped your other hand over your mouth as felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Bucky inserted a second finger, speedily sliding his fingers in and out of your tight, wet pussy. You tugged on his hair harshly as your eyes momentarily rolled into the back of your head and he pulled his mouth away, planting a kiss to your thigh before attaching his mouth to you again.

His tongue was long and felt so amazing, you were nearly in tears from holding in your moans. Bucky’s fingers nudged your g-spot one last time before you became a quivering mess in your chair. He kept going, pleasuring you through your orgasm as you came on his face.

Your eyes were hooded and your mouth was slightly open but nothing came out as you finished, your hips jerking a little as Bucky licked you clean. You slumped in your chair, breathing heavily, and felt him pull your panties back up. His lips planted a kiss to your clothed, sensitive clit before you felt him move away from you.

Bucky appeared out from under the table with a proud smirk, disheveled hair, and red cheeks. Then he smiled - an actual genuine smile - as he took in your wrecked appearance. He made a show of wiping his chin and sucking his finger and you sat up, feeling your thighs shake a little.

You cleared your throat, avoiding his playful stare. “What-what was that?” You whispered, bravely looking up at Bucky now. He licked his lips and chuckled deeply, running his hand through his hair again.

“I did something about it.”

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Both? As a woman in the hobby, it’s easy enough to see that it’s overwhelmingly male. Although I’d love to see more women and I think the hobby is moving to be more inclusive, that by itself isn’t necessarily a problem. If anything, it’s an opportunity to invite some really cool new people into a hobby I love. (Although sometimes it is annoying to be the only person who looks like you and some women do find that alienating).
 

The real problem comes in in 2 places:

 
 
When women come into the hobby, some of the less socially astute or straight up creepy members of the hobby don’t make them feel welcome. Sometimes this is hitting on them, sometimes it’s treating them with disrespect, sometimes it’s gatekeeping and sometimes its expecting them or their players to fufill gender norms or sexual fantasies (any of the creepy sex stories you see fall into this category). Sometimes women don’t even need to be present for this to happen. I had a coworker who told me he doesn’t allow female characters in his game period (not sure if that includes npcs) because he didn’t trust the guys in his game not to be weird about it. This solution is…problematic…but it was the best response he could think of to the gender problems he saw at his table. I’ve never personally seen this, but I’ve heard plenty of stories of women who had bad experiences or sometimes didn’t even want to try the game because they’ve heard about bad experiences and don’t want to have to deal with that kind of behavior in their downtime. Any games with strangers are especially notorious for this (roll20 groups, less friendly flgs, cons, etc).
 
 

This one I’ve seen more and personally experienced: Defensive guys who don’t think there’s a problem. It seems like any time anyone brings up the fact that D&D is mostly white men, the worse parts of the community come out swinging. It doesn’t matter if it’s a woman talking about how she was interruped, a guy suggesting more female or PoC npcs or (like in this thread) a complaint about creepy behavior, people will pop out of the woodwork to explain to you why this experience wasn’t valid. Which usually means “I don’t see it as a problem, because it doesn’t affect me.” And to some degree, I completely get it. For a lot of us, tabletop is a place where we can relax and be accepted for who we are, and when someone says it’s not, it can feel like an attack. It’s normal to want to defend that. The problem is, the people “attacking” it, are usually other gamers who love the hobby and want to help everyone feel that same sense of acceptance.
 
 

I’ve been playing for almost 7 years now, DMing for 4 or so, and am active here, so I’d say I’m pretty integrated in the community. As a woman, though, whenever gender pops up, I know it’s going to be bad. There are people who are great and are trying to help, but there’s also going to be quite a few loud jerks who want to be sure you know that everything is just fine and you’re an SJW for complaining. I’d guess the experience is similar sometimes for players with a different skin color or queer players. It’s enough, sometimes, to make me feel like I don’t belong in my hobby and might never truly belong.

— 

PennyPriddy comments on RPGs and creepiness

This is from a thread on Reddit about RPGs and creepiness. This woman is responding to another redditor who asked, “might i ask what the gender problem is? that not enough women play, or behavior from guys?”

There is more to her comment, and if you’re interested enough to have read this far, I encourage you to click through and read the rest of it, as well as some of the discussion that it inspired.

Gamers, especially my fellow men: we have a big problem in our hobby, and we need to talk about it. 

#teddy #auror #unresolved sexual tension

Prompts: @foxesandwands
Author: @queenofthyme

If you had told Harry Potter, back in his first year of Hogwarts, that he’d be sharing custody of a child with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Loudly. But here he was, fifteen years later, and one of Teddy Lupin’s two legal guardians.

When Harry had accepted Remus’s offer to be Teddy’s godfather, although in the thick of war, he still never considered he’d actually have to raise someone else’s child. Teddy’s grandmother, Andromeda, had taken care of Teddy originally, which Harry was glad of - a 17 year old did not a father make. Still, he made sure to visit often. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents.

Harry wasn’t surprised that Draco visited just as often. Andromeda was his aunt after all, making Teddy his first cousin once removed.

Harry didn’t make a fuss the first time they’d bumped into each other at Andromeda’s, even though the last time they’d seen each other had been at Hogwarts, in the middle of a war, on opposite sides. He trusted Andromeda, and if she, as fiercely protective as she was, trusted Draco around Teddy, that was enough for Harry to do the same. Although, he still watched closely, curious to understand Draco’s behaviour.

Years past and Andromeda grew weary. She had already raised one child, and she was far too old to be chasing after another. As godfather, Harry knew it was his responsibility to take over as Teddy’s guardian, and no longer a teenager, he felt like he was ready. But Draco had insisted that it was he who should become guardian, as a blood relative.

They had argued like they might have back in their Hogwarts days, with taunts and snide jabs, even a  few hexes, before Andromeda put a stop to it. “How do either of you expect to raise a child if you still act like children yourselves?” She had yelled at them both, her words striking home as always.

Shared custody was Andromeda’s idea, but they both agreed it would be the best option for Teddy. He had already grown attached to both of them, and they both loved Teddy as if he was their own. On that, they were in agreement, if nothing else.

These days, they saw a lot of each other. Teddy made sure of that. They hadn’t quite reconciled all their differences, but they were civil, even polite to each other. They had to be for Teddy. But there was such a coldness to their interactions sometimes, that Harry wondered if it would be better if they just went at it, like they really wanted to. Said what they were really thinking.

Like that time when Draco dropped Teddy off at Harry’s office in the middle of a work day because he had an appointment, and Harry said, “Of course, no problem Draco. Please take your time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “You couldn’t have given me some warning so I could plan my day around this, you inconsiderate prat?”

Or the time Draco had taken Teddy on holiday and returned a day later than expected, and Harry said, “That’s okay, Draco, I’m glad you’re both back. I’m sure Teddy had a great time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I thought you were both dead you selfish jerk, you never thought to owl ahead to let me know?”

Or last week when Draco had to reschedule their agreed custody routine because he had a date on Thursday night and Harry said, “Hope you have a lovely night,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I hope your date throws wine in your face and leaves you with the bill.”

It’s not like Teddy didn’t know what was going on. He was a perceptive kid. The whole situation was ridiculous.

Keep reading

13.01 coda

YAY WE’RE BACK, EVERYONE!!! Did you miss me?? I missed you.

If you would like to be added to or taken off of the master tag list for the season 13 post-episode codas, please send me a message ASAP. Thanks, guys!

Anyway, this scene definitely should have been in the ep.

“Can he teleport?”

“What?”

“The kid!” Dean snaps. “Does he have wings?”

Sam stutters out that he doesn’t know, and, right. How would he? Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it comes away bloody - his lip stings where he’s touched it.

He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. He’s trying his absolute hardest to keep it together, but his hands shake regardless.

“We can check along the main roads,” Sam placates, mistaking his silence for frustration. “We’ll be faster in the car than he is on foot, assuming he doesn’t fly, and he can’t have gotten far.”

Dean opens his eyes, but he doesn’t reply. He keeps his back to his brother.

“It’s going to be ok, Dean,” Sam says, only a few feet behind him now, and damn it if that just doesn’t break Dean’s heart all over again.

Soon enough he hears the dirt start to crunch under Sam’s shoes. He has to swerve around Dean to get to the passenger side, his usual post in times of crisis, but Dean lets out a sigh just as he gets his hand on the door.

“Wait.”

Sam turns back to look at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Dean swallows. “I need you to help me with something first.”

Keep reading

Is Trump Unraveling?

Last week, Senator Bob Corker, the Republican chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, charged in an interview with the New York Times that Trump was treating his office like “a reality show,” with reckless threats toward other countries that could set the nation “on the path to World War III.”

Corker said he was concerned about Trump. “He would have to concern anyone who cares about our nation,” Corker said, adding that “the vast majority of our caucus understands what we’re dealing with here … the volatility that we’re dealing with and the tremendous amount of work that it takes by people around him to keep him in the middle of the road.”

Corker’s interview was followed by a report from Gabriel Sherman of Vanity Fair, who wrote that the situation has gotten so out of control that Trump’s chief of staff, John Kelly, and Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis have discussed ways to stop Trump should he order a nuclear attack. Kelly has tried to keep Trump focused by intercepting outside phone calls to the White House and restricting access to the Oval Office. Many of Trump’s advisors believe he is “unstable” and “unravelling” quickly. 

Is Trump really unraveling? Are Republican leaders ready to pull the plug? I phoned an old friend, a Republican former member of Congress who keeps up with what’s going on. I scribbled notes as he talked:

Me: So what’s up? Is Corker alone, or are others also ready to call it quits with Trump? 

He: All I know is they’re simmering over there. 

Me: Flake and McCain have come pretty close. 

He: Yeah. Others are thinking about doing what Bob did. Sounding the alarm. They think Trump’s nuts. Unfit. Dangerous. 

Me: Well, they already knew that, didn’t they? 

He: But now it’s personal. It started with the Sessions stuff. Jeff was as loyal as they come. Trump’s crapping on him was like kicking your puppy. And then, you know, him beating up on Mitch for the Obamacare fiasco. And going after Flake and the others. 

Me: So they’re pissed off?

He: Not just that. I mean, they have thick hides. The personal stuff got them to notice all the other things. The wild stuff, like those threats to North Korea. Tillerson would leave tomorrow if he wasn’t so worried Trump would go nuclear, literally. 

Me: You think Trump is really thinking nuclear war?

He: Who knows what’s in his head? But I can tell you this. He’s not listening to anyone. Not a soul. He’s got the nuclear codes and, well, it scares the hell out of me. It’s starting to scare all of them. That’s really why Bob spoke up. 

Me: So what could they do? I mean, even if the whole Republican leadership was willing to say publicly he’s unfit to serve, what then?

He: Bingo! The emperor has no clothes. It’s a signal to everyone they can bail. Have to bail to save their skins. I mean, Trump could be the end of the whole goddam Republican party. 

Me: If he starts a nuclear war, that could be the end of everything. 

He: Yeah, right. So when they start bailing on him, the stage is set. 

Me: For what?

He: Impeachment. 25th amendment.

Me: You think Republicans would go that far? 

He: Not yet. Here’s the thing. They really want to get this tax bill through. That’s all they have going for them. They don’t want to face voters in ’18 or ’20 without something to show for it. They’re just praying Trump doesn’t do something really, really stupid before the tax bill.

Me: Like a nuclear war?

He: Look, all I can tell you is many of the people I talk with are getting freaked out. It’s not as if there’s any careful strategizing going on. Not like, well, do we balance the tax bill against nuclear war? No, no. They’re worried as hell. They’re also worried about Trump crazies, all the ignoramuses he’s stirred up. I mean, Roy Moore? How many more of them do you need to destroy the party? 

Me: So what’s gonna happen?

He: You got me. I’m just glad I’m not there anymore. Trump’s not just a moron. He’s a despicable human being. And he’s getting crazier. Paranoid. Unhinged. Everyone knows it. I mean, we’re in shit up to our eyeballs with this guy.

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 2/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Depression, angst and fluff throughout the whole series, suicide attempt

A/N: Im so happy at how much support part 1 got?? Thankyou all so so so fucking much ily all also!! credit to @finn-got-tall for an idea in one of the scenes!! (I wont reveal which scene bc i want people to just read) but ty lovely

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12(Soon) | 

Eddie and Richie blinked at each other, stunned to see one another in such a strange coincidence. Eddie still had his hand up, but Richie still hadn’t took it. Richie merely brought his hand up that held the cigarette, taking a drag and allowing the toxic waste to decay against his lungs. Eddie visibly cringed at the sight, but stayed silent; he only continued to watch in hope that Richie would somehow step down. Richie took away the small stick, blowing the smoke out slowly and staring at Eddie through his large obnoxious eye glasses.

“Why are you here, Eds?” Richie asked, as if a day hadn’t passed since they last talked.

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Lipstick stains

Summary: She and Tom don’t exactly get along, but really, everyone knows they just need to bang.

Pairings: Reader (?) x Tom Holland

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Some swearing and some smut

A/n: I’m sorry this is so shitty :/ but let me know what ya think anyways :)))


“Nice ass.”

“And this is as close as you’ll get to it.”

“Wouldn’t want it anyway.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

It was a good feeling when she got the last word in. It meant she won that round, and boy, there were many rounds of snarky banter. Neither she nor Tom were overly fond of each other and did what they could to avoid any situation involving the other. However, when your best friends are dating, it’s inevitable. Kat and Haz, what a cute couple. She and Tom, no way in hell. Or at least, that’s what they said every time somebody suggested they ‘just make out already’. See, the thing with those two is that they had undeniable chemistry; the room was thick with sexual tension whenever they were together. It was apparent to everyone but them.

They were currently at the boys’ shared apartment. When Haz had asked the both of them to help him prepare for tonight, they had begrudgingly agreed. It was Kat’s birthday, and being a good boyfriend, he was throwing her a surprise party. As much as they disliked each other, she and Tom loved their friends.  

Haz had put them in charge of decorations, so here she was, standing on a wooden stool in the living room, Tom on the ground behind her. She was on her toes, trying to tape streamers to the ceiling. Due to the height difference, he had a perfect view of her ass. She was annoying, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hot – not that he’d ever admit that out loud.  

Suddenly she wobbled a little, and as if on instinct, he immediately reached out. He grabbed her waist, steadying her.

“Hands off, Holland,” she said sternly, not even looking at him.

“Geez, I was just trying to help,” he removed his hands, holding them up defensively.

“My knight in shining armour,” her words dripped with sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes at her.

Having finally taped that section, she asked Tom for another piece. The small seat she was standing on didn’t allow room for much movement. As she turned to take it from him, she lost her balance. With a yelp, she fell forward – right on top of Tom. They crashed to the floor in a loud heap.

They both groaned; him underneath her, she with her face pressed against his throat. She lifted her head and winced. Haz came running in.

“What is going on in h–,” he stopped midsentence when he saw them on the floor, in quite the compromising position.

He grinned.

“What happened?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m sure,” he said amused, his grin getting wider. He contemplated taking pictures but thought better of it. They’d kill him.

“She fell on me,” Tom grunted.

“No, I didn’t!” she protested.

“You literally fell off the stool, onto me.”

“Okay, fine, I did,” she huffed as she stood up, checking for bruises.

Tom was still lying on the floor, taking a moment to recuperate.

“Um, mate?” Haz snickered, looking down at him.

“What?”

Haz checked to see if she had noticed yet, before answering, “You got a little something there,” indicating his collarbone.

Tom swiped at the area, not finding anything.

“What? What is it?” he questioned. He too stood up and looked between the two, puzzled.

By now, she had realised what Haz was talking about and suppressed a smile.

“Oops.”

She pointed at the mirror on the wall and allowed him to make the discovery. She and Haz exchanged a look and giggled.

“What the fuck?”

They burst out laughing. Right at the base of his throat, there was a perfect impression of her lips, her red lipstick staining his pale skin. Glaring at his reflection, he tried to wipe the mark away but only succeeded in smudging it.

“How the hell am I supposed to get rid of this?” he growled.

“Will you relax? It’s just lipstick,” she reassured.

“Yeah, that makes it seem like you two were getting intimate,” Haz snorted.

“Shut up,” the other two snapped in unison.

“Okay, okay,” he backed out of the room. “I’m gonna finish up in the kitchen. You guys should finish all this too, party’s starting soon.”

She nodded at him and turned to look at Tom. He was still rubbing at that spot and she could tell that it had spread all over his neck now.

Sighing, she walked over to her bag and pulled out a makeup wipe. She sauntered over to him and held out the tissue. He took it reluctantly and cleaned the lipstick off.

She crossed her arms and waited for him, expecting a thank you.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said instead.

“For what?” she asked in confusion.

“You fell on me, I cushioned your fall. You’re welcome,” he explained simply.

“My hero,” this time she rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, we gotta finish hanging these streamers.”

Grumbling, they returned to their assigned job.

*

“Let’s get this party started!” Kat screamed, raising her cup in the air. Somebody turned the volume up, and the crowd cheered, the apartment filling with music. She kissed Haz and dragged him into the middle of the room, dancing with him.

Tom smiled at his friends enjoying themselves. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes wandering the room before they landed on her. She was wearing a short black dress, hair cascading down her back. She was tipsy but moved with confidence in her heels. He watched her hips swinging in time to the beat of the song, her arms above her head. He admired the curves of her body, very evident in the confines of the tight fabric. It wasn’t long before some guy was behind her, his hands on her hips. She was unfazed, grinding against him. She spun around in his arms, her own coming down over his shoulders. As she moved closer towards him, Tom looked away, filled with a strange resentment.

He left the room, in search of more alcohol to distract him from this unwanted feeling.

*

She needed a drink. She had been dancing for what felt like hours and was desperately thirsty. Squeezing past the swaying bodies she made it to the kitchen. She noticed Tom leaning against the counter, talking to another guest. She moved towards the island bench across from him and grabbed a bottle, pouring some soda into a cup. She guzzled it down.

“All that grinding made you thirsty, huh?” he asked, more bitterly than he intended.

Putting the cup down she frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It clearly means something.”

A thought dawned on her.

“Are… are you… jealous?” she asked in disbelief.

“Are you kidding? Why the hell would I be jealous?” he scoffed. He took a gulp of his drink.

“Fine,” she shrugged her shoulders, not really caring. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left.”

She nodded her head once and pushed past party-goers in the direction he had advised.

In the bathroom she checked herself in the mirror. She tousled her hair, mind going back to her chat with Tom. What was up with him? Shaking her head, she rummaged through her purse for the tube of lipstick. Finding it, she removed the lid and applied a fresh coat. She pressed her lips together, evening out the colour. Just as she popped the lid back on, the door opened.

“Occupied,” she called out.

“It’s me,” Tom stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Oh. I was just leaving anyway.”

Zipping up her purse, she took one final glance at the mirror.  She saw Tom in the corner of her eye and bit her lower lip. He was wearing a black tee emphasising the muscles in his arms. His jaw was clenched and she noticed how sharp it was. She swallowed.

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked curiously.

“Of course not,” she forced herself to make eye contact, hoping she exuded more confidence than she was feeling.

“You seem nervous,” he took a step towards her.

She took a step back.

“Why would I be nervous? If I recall correctly, you were the one who sounded jealous earlier. Do I make you nervous?” she countered, trying to gain the upper hand.

“Not at all, and that wasn’t jealousy,” he continued to move towards her.

“What was it then?” her back hit the wall.

He was standing awfully close now. He filled her senses, sight, smell, hearing. She met his stare, refusing to look away first.

“It was frustration.”

“At what?” she almost whispered.

“At wanting to do this.”

He cupped her face and crashed his mouth against hers. Once she recovered from her initial shock, she found herself kissing him back. The rigidity of her body seeped away as they melded into each other. She reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands dropped down to her back where they slipped further lower to her ass.

He lifted her up effortlessly and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their kiss was messy and passionate as everything they had been holding in came flooding out. He sat her on the edge of the sink and stood between her legs with his hands on her thighs. Her dress had ridden up and the heat of his palms seared her bare skin. He slid one hand up and gripped her hip while the other remained on her leg. He leaned forward, pushing her back and she threw an arm behind to find a purchase to support herself. She accidentally knocked over a bottle but they barely noticed it clattering to the floor. Her legs hugged his waist she gripped his shoulder with her right hand.

Needing a breath, Tom broke the kiss, moving his lips down her jaw to her neck. Her head fell back, exposing her throat and she let out a moan as he found her sweet spot. She tangled her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, her other arm snaking back over his shoulder. She was lost in bliss. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling.

“Tom,” she moaned his name. Egged on by the sounds falling from her lips, he brought a hand up and slipped the spaghetti strap from her shoulder. He kissed down past her collarbone and along the soft skin of her shoulder.

All of a sudden there was a knock at the door.

“Mate?”

It was Haz.

“Fuck,” Tom cursed, as they separated. He stepped back and went to the door, not looking at her.

She, in turn, slipped off the sink and wiggled her dress back down to an appropriate length. She pushed her hair out of her face and turned to the mirror above the sink. Her lipstick was smeared across her mouth and her cheeks were flushed.

He opened the door.

“Yes, mate?” annoyance in his tone.

Haz’s mouth fell open in surprise when he saw Tom, but then he noticed her in the bathroom behind him. He smirked.

“Uh, you’ve got a little something…,” he repeated his words from earlier in the day.

“Huh?” Tom walked over to the sink where she was still standing.

He too, had her lipstick smudged over his mouth and chin. He dropped his head, shaking it.

“Wait ‘til I tell Kat,” Haz said gleefully, running off in the direction of the living room.

She looked at Tom. Then she went to the door and closed it. He turned to her when he heard the click of the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“We weren’t done.”


Tagging: @spideyontherun 

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!”

Keep reading

Cat Got Your Tongue Pt.2 (M)

Taco’s not so fluffy anymore, and you run into quite a few unexpected faces.

Word count: 7.4 k

Genre: Comedy, smut, fluff, a touch of angst, a lot of naked Tae

A/N: Hi! I’m so sorry this took forever to come out and I really hope I did it justice. Thank you everyone who was so patient with me, I really appreciate you all and your understanding means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! Special thanks to @jiminniemouse @seoulscapes & @kittae for proofreading this trash and motivating me to complete it!

Part 1 here

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GLOOMVERSE THEORY: Wallis DOES NOT want Harold living on the streets!

I recently got this ask on my Wallis askblog ( @askwallisgloom ) and I decided that since this is something I feel… Pretty passionately about, I’d write up my thoughts on it!! As always, this is just MY theory, it may or may not be canon, only CQ can say that! So, here we go-


Wallis does not want Harold living on the streets.

Despite their differences and arguments, Wallis and Harold do love each other. Seeing his little brother out on the streets would probably hurt Wallis a lot.

Personally, I believe that Wallis HAS tried to get Harold to live with him before, but Harold… Really, really does not like accepting help. Probably because he thinks he’s a burden or something. This is shown here:

(Pg.118)

Where Harold is visibly uncomfortable at Assy offering to buy him stuff. 

So Harold has PROBABLY declined offers for help- ESPECIALLY from Wallis, someone he might feel a lot of guilt around- before.

As a more… Obvious pointer, though, please follow me through this look into the finer details~!!


(Pg.49)

We can see here that Harold stole $400. Enough money, in Wallis’ humble opinion, to need to be paid back- And how he does that is, of course, by forcing Gloom to work for him.

Now is a fantastic time to point out that Wallis has an unlimited supply of workers, it’s not like he NEEDS the extra help. He’s also a brilliant actor.

Moving on, we have this:

(Pg.98)

Assistant’s weekly paycheck is $600- $200 whole dollars more than what Harold stole. And in Wallis’ own words- “Whatevs. It’s not even that much.”

So, we can deduce two things from this.
1. If Wallis doesn’t think $600 is much, he certainly wouldn’t think $400 is a lot.
2. Harold would have completely paid off his debt by now, and yet, Wallis hasn’t made any indication that he wants Harold gone.


Those are the basics, but for a deeper look, I’d like to point you in the direction of this interaction:

(Pg.112)

Wallis hasn’t been working Harold very hard at all. In fact, the worst he’s done, is force Harold to be more HEALTHY. If he was truly upset about his money being stolen purely for the fact his money was gone, wouldn’t you think Wallis would be working him WAY harder??

If we take into consideration that for the most part, Harold MAY have some form of depressive disorder- Or at the very least, is stuck in a rut in his life- Wallis forcing him to be active and do something is probably the best thing he could do. Keep in mind that Wallis has 3 definite layers to his personality:

1. Flashy angry show persona, the main one we see throughout the comic.
2.
Less flashy, normal, “I think I’m pretty great” persona.
3.
The ‘real’ him, who doesn’t think he’s very good at all, and probably has a few self esteem issues.

I think it’s… Fairly safe to assume that anything Wallis does shouldn’t be taken at face value, since he’s buried his real feelings so deep down. This in mind, it’s very plausible that Wallis’ true intentions to HELP his brother are cleverly hidden by a guise of “Wanting to be repaid”- Something that fits his top, and foremost, persona.


Moving on from this, we have this exchange:

(Pg.96)

This is proof that Harold’s condition and situation has been on Wallis’ mind for longer than he lets on. Wallis always has trouble articulating how he feels, so for this interaction to even HAPPEN is a show of how much this means to him- Even if he does run away from the conversation before it can be continued.

Wallis was mad that Harold stole his money, yes- But he wasn’t mad that he was down $400.

He was upset that Harold didn’t think he could just ASK for help.

Honestly, I believe that Wallis’ anger towards Harold was just misdirected anger at HIMSELF- After all, who was it that separated himself from his brother? Who was it that made Harold’s limbs disappear? Who was it that saw, with his own innocent eyes, his brother scream for him to get away?


(Pg.93)

Here we can see that Wallis notices that Harold is upset by this on a personal level, and is probably… Projecting a bit onto Assistant. He immediately moves forward to try and remedy the situation, and ‘comfort’ his brother to the best of his ability.

…On a more speculative note, you could see this as Wallis indirectly promising Harold that he’d help him, too.


In conclusion-

Harold and Wallis love each other. They have their disagreements, and they have things that they don’t like about each other, but when it comes down to it they only want the best for the other. Neither of them is a “bad guy”- They’re just two kids that happen to be a victim of circumstance.

And Wallis absolutely would not want his brother living on the streets.

The Wake of War

[AO3]

So.” Stiles drops back against the side of the Jeep, elbows braced and spine sinking slow against the dusty blue metal. Derek’s hovering a few feet away, at the edge of the lot, not quite ready to vanish into the night but not prepared to join with the rest of the group, either.

He needs their voices, maybe, to block out the ones in his head.

“Looks like I saved your ass again,” Stiles is saying, flashing him a crooked grin. He looks warm and bright like the rest of them, a glow of victory dancing around him that can’t quite seep into Derek’s bones. “What’s the count, now? ‘Cause I think I’m getting pretty close to earning a victory ride in that sweet new Camaro.”

Derek’s lips twitch, a snort slipping out.

“I seem to recall saving you last time.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this. At best, that was a tie.” Stiles looks so smug Derek can’t bring himself to argue, and maybe that’s the reason Stiles’ grin falls. His eyes go soft, flitting over Derek’s frame.

“I’m glad you’re ok, man. …I mean, as nice as it would have been to have my very own, hot guy lawn ornament––”

“Why did I look at her?”

He doesn’t mean to say it; flinches at his own words. His hands are too-tight fists he stretches straight with an effort, and when he looks at Stiles again the bright expression’s gone, replaced by tension and an edge of a grimace he’s trying to fight down.

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Bygones of the Sun | 07 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 6.7k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

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anonymous asked:

so how do you feel about the claim that your art is racist?

hm, I…don’t know really? I guess I am not competent enough to decide.

You see, I don’t know what to think of this, because such a thing is very…strong, yet very vague. What exactly makes it racist? Did I draw someone not dark enough? If so, whom and why? I need to know these things so I can reflect back and see my drawings from a different perspective.

Because I always try to follow the descriptions and do my best on not…whitewashing? I’ve made a mistake of drawing a biracial (Angelina is black, George is white) character as white because in my mind 6 years ago it made perfect sense. I feel like I’ve grown enough to understand just how important media representation is for black people and why you shouldn’t take one potentially black character and make them white, since. everyone else is white already.

So in that sense, I try to do my best and draw people of colour as they are. The idea of whitewashing is not something I am fond of, nor I understand why people do that on the first place. especially if it’s full damn intentionally.

I guess there is someone who might consider me racist because I don’t headcanon characters with no mentioned skin colour as black? If so, personally, I do what’s closer to me and how my surroundings work. To get the idea, everyone around me were white (sometimes asian) up to very recently? I’m 23, and it’s the first time I had a chance to interract properly with a black guy who is my gym coach. Like, everyone here is primarily white, so it’s probably a bit different here. All the common problems that are talked about in US might be problems here, but people don’t talk about it. I have to find out everything on my own, so if I’m doing it slowly, please forgive me.

I’m all up for people to do/draw/write/percieve things (especially when it comes to fictional characters) the way that is the closest and the most relatable to them. If it would be black Hermione, or indian Harry, or as much PoC headcanons as people need - I can only appreciate and respect that. If I’m considered racist for doing the same but through my eyes, I am not sure what to do and what to think of it.

So…let me know your thoughts on this subject and I’ll read through it to get a better idea.

little tattoos part iii

hello!

this is part three of my reddie soulmate fic

read part one here and two here

thank you guys so much for all the love on this fic. Please read my notes on the bottom as they are important! ty!

summary: a soulmate au where everyone has a tattoo exactly like their soulmate

pairing: eddie and richie

words:  2233



Eddie woke up even more exhausted than he was when he fell asleep. He let a breath out of his mouth and took in a long one through his nose. He kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to face the world yet.

Everything he loved was gone, he suddenly realized. This thought jolted him awake, causing him to sit straight up in a panic. It hadn’t occurred to him that he lost everything yesterday. All of his friends were bound to know. They all hung out together. They were the Loser’s Club and Eddie had ruined that. They could never all hang out anymore as Eddie couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Richie, let alone even think about him. He started to really panic, then.

His breathing was rapid and shallow and his hands were shaking violently. Eddie got up, stumbling, trying to find his damned inhaler. It wasn’t in his pocket, nor his backpack, or on his desk. He couldn’t breathe. At this point, he didn’t know if it was even an asthma attack anymore, or if it was one in the first place. It was so much worse. His head was spinning and he couldn’t see anymore. It was in his jacket, he remembered suddenly.

Eddie collapsed on the ground, catching himself with his hands as he tried to steady his breathing, but nothing was working. His heart was racing and he couldn’t stop shaking. Eddie was sobbing uncontrollably, his vision blurred from the tears. He didn’t know what was happening. His lungs felt constricted and he couldn’t get any air in. He was hyperventilating, trying to breathe but couldn’t. He tried to move towards his jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair. He was shaking so badly that he could barely move. His hand grasped the chair, pulling it and knocking it over. The light blue inhaler fell out of the pocket of his coat, landing a couple inches away from him. He grabbed it, instantly feeling as if he could breathe again when he took his first two puffs of medicine.

An hour passed before Eddie could stand again. HIs legs were shaky but he managed to get to his bathroom. He found it odd that his mother hadn’t come to get him yet until he realized that it was four in the morning. Eddie knew he couldn’t go to school, but he couldn’t stay home ‘sick’ as his mother would take him to the hospital. He washed his face with some water and laid back down and attempted to fall asleep.

His mother woke him up at 7 am and tried to get him to take his pills as she did every morning. He walked out of the house and rode his bike to park. Eddie read there all day. He needed to take a breather and reading was his escape. The cool breeze against his skin calmed him even more as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree he was sitting up against. It was odd to feel so peaceful. At three o'clock, he headed home as if he had gone to school.

“Eddie bear, how was school?” She asked from her chair in the living room.

“Fine.” He responded quietly, heading upstairs and into his room.

Eddie felt bad about lying, not going to school, but he knew he couldn’t face Richie, Bill, or anyone for that matter. He checked his cut from the previous day, and it was still healing properly. That was one less thing for him to worry about. Eddie laid back on his bed, sighing. Could his life get any worse?


“W-W-What did you d-do?” Bill demanded, slamming his Chemistry book down on the loser’s lunch table. He was beyond pissed.

   Richie looked up at Bill through his coke bottle lenses. Stan was pissed too, standing behind him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. “I didn’t do anything!” He defended, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “I-”

   “Where is Eddie?” Stan interjected, sliding into the seat across from Richie. “He isn’t here today and he was supposed to tell you how he felt yesterday. What the hell did you do to him, Richie?”

   Richie scoffed. “So that’s why he was avoiding me.”

   Bill looked at him confused. “W-What do you mean av-av-avoiding you?”

   Richie rolled his eyes. “You know when someone doesn’t talk to you and walks different routes in the hallways so they don’t see you. Gee, Bill, I thought you were smart.” He replied sarcastically, sticking his plastic fork into eerily yellow mashed potatoes.

   Stan leaned forward on his elbows. “So, if he avoided you, why isn’t he here?”

   Richie let out an exasperated sigh, leaning backward in his chair. “He told me in the gym locker room, alright?”

   Bill sat down next to Stan, looking at Richie to egg him on.

   Richie sighed again. “And I was too shocked to do anything and he ran out crying.”

   “Richie!”

   “Hey! I tried to go to his house and apologize and he slammed the window shut. He wouldn’t listen to me.” Richie grumbled. “I really tried! But I have a plan.”

   Stan and Bill exchanged glances. Bill nodded a little and Stan sighed. “What’s your plan?”

   Richie sat up straight. “You two need to convince him to come over. Say it’s everyone but me.”

   Bill frowned. “H-He’s not gonna b-b-believe us, Rich.”

   “Make him believe you! I need to talk to him. I need to explain.” Richie protested, running a hand through his hair.

   Bill nodded. “I’ll t-try.”

   Richie looked at Stan, who was staring down at the table. “Stan?”

   “I’m not gonna help you if all you’re gonna do is break his heart. He doesn’t deserve that, Richie.” He deadpanned.

   Richie was offended and a look of hurt flashed across his face before he composed himself. “I am not going to hurt Eddie!”

   “Sure, telling him you only wanna be his friend isn’t gonna hurt him.”

   “This is the one time I’m not being a sarcastic dipshit, Stanley! Are you listening? I said I’m not going to hurt him. I would never hurt him. I love him!” Richie slammed his fist on the table, causing a few kids to look over at them. “Did you hear that?”

   Stan nodded.

   “At least they didn’t cut off your ears like they cut off your dick.” Richie spat, getting up and walking away. The bell rang moments later. Bill grabbed his bookbag and stood up, gently nudging Stan to do the same. Richie was standing near his locker, attempting to open it but getting the combination wrong.

   “Richie-”

   “What, Stanley? What the hell do you want?” Richie practically growled, turning and glaring at Stan. If looks could kill, he would be dead ten times over.

   “I’ll help.”

   Richie’s hard stare softened a little. “Thanks. I’m sorry I got mad but you gotta admit that line was good.” A small smile crept onto his face, and even Stan chuckled a bit.

   Bill was assigned the job to get Eddie over, and Stan was to get everyone else in on the plan. He walked up to Eddie’s door and knocked. There was shuffling and a shout of “I got it” from Eddie. He opened the door and saw Bill, his face paled a little.

   “H-Hi,” Bill said quietly. “C-Could we talk?”

   Eddie glanced behind him for a moment to see if his mom had fallen back asleep or not before nodding and stepping outside, shutting the door behind him. “What do you wanna talk about because I’m not gonna talk about him.” He put emphasis on the word him. He sounded angry, disgusted, even. He laced his fingers together, still a bit shaky from his panic attack this morning.

   “N-No. The group w-wants you to come over. Minus R-R-Richie.”

   “Oh, no. I am not falling for that. He’s gonna be there when I get there and I don’t want to talk to him.”

   Bill shook his head. “Please? I-I-It’s movie night. You can p-pick.”

   Eddie glared at the ground, trying to work the request over in his head. He finally let out a long sigh and nodded. “Fine.”

   They rode their bikes to Bill’s house in silence, neither of them knowing what to say, so they said nothing. Eddie set his bike up against the house as he always did, following Bill inside. Georgie greeted the both of them with a hello and a smile.

   “H-Head to the living room, I-I-I’ll get the snacks,” Bill said, heading to the kitchen. Eddie nodded, walking towards the living room. He walked in, glancing around the room at the various decorations on the wall. Paintings and pictures of their family were scattered around the room. It felt homey.

   Eddie was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the door shut. He turned his head to look, only to find Richie standing there. His breath hitched in his throat and he knew he had paled. It wasn’t even five seconds before he started to get angry. He knew this was a set-up.

   “I fucking knew it,” Eddie grumbled.

   “Eddie-” Richie started, but Eddie had had enough.

   “No, Richie. I don’t want to hear it. I’m really not in the mood to listen to you tell me you don’t feel the same way and that you hope we can be friends. Because we can’t be friends, Richie! I don’t want to be your friend. I can’t be your damn friend.

   Richie Tozier was silenced by Eddie for the second time that week. It was a new record. He composed himself before stepping forward. “If you let me show you something, I promise I will leave you alone.”

   Eddie was shocked that Richie was being serious. He was never serious in all the time he’s known the guy. He was always cracking inappropriate jokes at the wrong time. Despite all of his instinct to say no, Eddie nodded.

   Richie let out a sigh of relief before spitting onto his hand.

   “That is disgusting! What the hell are you-” Eddie cut himself off as he watched Richie take his spit and use it to smudge his soulmate tattoo off his skin. It wasn’t real. This whole time, Eddie thought that Richie had a soulmate. It was fake.

   Richie watched Eddie for a moment before deciding to explain himself. “My mom used to tell me I would be made fun of for not having a soulmate. That I wouldn’t fit in. So, one night I decided to draw one on every morning so I would fit in. It sounds shitty and kind of is but- Eds are you listening?”

   Eddie walked forward and grabbed Richie’s hand. He was holding back the urge to cringe, as Richie’s saliva was now on his hand. Richie didn’t understand what Eddie was doing. He let him move his finger until it was placed right next to the corresponding one on Eddie’s hand. Under Richie’s tattoo that he drew on, was a small, circular and blotchy birthmark. It was identical to Eddie’s.

   “What the fuck,” Eddie announced. A smile spread across Richie’s face while Eddie started to ramble. “What does this mean? Are these soulmate tattoos? They look like birthmarks! Why the hell would this be a soul-”

   Richie grabbed his face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his chapped lips onto Eddie’s soft ones. Eddie was stiff for a moment before he melted into the kiss and started to do the same that Richie was. Eddie was unsure where to put his hands or what to even do. Before he could react, Richie pulled away, slowly opening his eyes to find Eddie completely red.

   “I love you too, Eds.”

   Eddie had a content smile on his face. “Don’t call me that, Trashmouth.”

   “Ah, Trashmouth, what a nickname. You really know how to charm the boys.” Richie sassed, throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “Shall we tell the rest of the losers that Bill and Stan have competition?”

   Eddie and Richie showed the rest of the group their tattoos. Stan had this smug look of “I told you so” written across his face and so did Bill. They ended up watching a rom-com, much to Eddie’s dismay. Richie kept his arm around the smaller boy the whole night, pressing chaste kisses to his forehead every once and awhile.

   Richie and Eddie rode back to their houses together that night. They arrived at Eddie’s house first, both of them silent.

   “Gee, you could cut this sexual tension with a knife.” Richie joked, leaning forward on the handlebars of his bike.

   Eddie rolled his eyes, using his kickstand to stand his bike up next to his porch as he always did. Richie hopped off his bike, letting it lay on the ground. He walked up to Eddie, pinching his cheek. “So, Eddie Spaghetti, where do you wanna go on our first date of being fuckbuddies?”

   “You ruined it.” Eddie sighed, slapping his hand away.

   “I didn’t ruin anything!” Richie retorted, smiling. “I made it better.”

   “Okay, Tozier,” Eddie said, leaning forward and kissing Richie briefly.

   Richie had a smile plastered on his face. “Goodnight, Eds.”

   “Goodnight, Trashmouth,” Eddie said before he shut the door. He quietly snuck up the stairs. His mom was still asleep in her chair. He fell back on his bed, a content smile on his face.

   Eddie Kaspbrak was happy.


SO HELLO HERE ARE A FEW NOTES PLS READ TYSM

this ending is ending a. i wrote two endings because i couldnt decide which i liked better

so ending b will be posted after part four as a bonus lil chapter thingy

you can decide whichever you prefer to be canon as i love them both

also im really self concious about this part so please give me your honest feedback ilysm

let me know if you want an epilouge! i would be down to write it

masterlist

talk to me/request to be on tag list

tysm for reading

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spellbound (m)

Pairing:  Jimin x Reader
Genre: witch!au (sort of based on the secret circle), smut, comedy, slight angst
Warnings: dom-ish!jimin, magical sex rituals (so slight blood play, breath play, temperature play), rough sex, cumplay
Word Count:  10k+
Summary:  The only reason you agreed to do this magical ritual with Park Jimin’s Circle was for the sake of your own Circle - to strengthen your individual magic. Yes, that means you’ll have to fuck him, but no, you weren’t happy about it because you hate Park Jimin. Once again, you were only doing this for your Circle. 

Keep reading

The First Time With Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by jengkook

Genre : Fluff, romance,comedy,implicit language,sexual innuendos
Pairing:Jungkook x reader
Length: 29K words
Summary : This is a series based on all of your first times with jungkook, from your childhood till adulthood

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

PART 8


Tell me your thoughts in the comments and ask box :)



THE FIRST TIME YOU CONFESSED TO EACH OTHER

2 days ago, Lusty&Nancy Bar, L.A, 00:42 AM

The scent of alcohol and smoke was heavy as Jungkook was drinking his last shot of martini before collapsing on her lap. She chuckled as she ran her soft fingers through his raven hair. Those majestic looking lips, that gorgeous nose and long lashes, could drive any girl insane at his sight, but only one girl could drive the latter over the edge. He untied his tie as he dropped it on the cold ground before making himself at home, sleeping on her lap. Jungkook was never completely drunk, but had this tendency to collapse at random moments and wake up randomly just to take off his clothes. He sniffled a few times before grabbing onto the soft hand that was caressing his ears.

“I missed you….” he murmured half coherently “…Y/N”

The girl’s face fell into a scowl as she heard your name coming out of his beautiful lips, one more time. Every time, it would be the same story. He would hit her up, they would talk for a few hours and he would end up drunk, sleeping on her lap. Who was she? His business partner Park Sooyoung. Tall, brunette, pretty and a bright future ahead of her. She made heads turn by her presence only. Being a year older than Jungkook, she often talked informally to him even if he was her superior. She never had any feelings towards the boy, but she couldn’t help but feel irritated every time he mentioned your unknown name before casually sleeping on her lap.

“Y/N… I really wonder who she is, for turning him into a mess” she sighed

“Sooyoung-ssi” Jungkook’s eyes suddenly sprung open “Do you think she still remembers me?” he unbuttons the first buttons of his dress shirt “Sometimes, I keep on wondering… if she actually cares about me?”

“Jungkook, I would like to give you an answer but—“

“It’s Mr. Jeon for you” he pointed at her before erupting in a fit of giggles “We’re still workmates remember?”

“Right… only workmates” she clenched her fist

“Mr. Jeon sounds like a sexier title as well. Right? How about Director Jeon?” he ran a hand through his hair before crouching his shoulders “That’s supposed to be my future title…” he grabbed her hand in his “Do you think I can do this?”

“I think the question should be: Do you want to do this?” she replied in a heartbroken tone

“You are right…” he laid his head back on her lap “What do I even want?” he laid the back of his hand on his forehead “I just want to go back home” he felt a tear slipping from his eyes

“Should I bring you back home?” Sooyoung smiled at him

The word home had a different meaning in Sooyoung’s suggestive context

….

Today, Dorms at Seoul University, 12:32 PM

You were sipping on your lemon tea as it was the start of a new semester in your area. You and your friends were about to have a blast for the last remaining weeks of summer before tackling another stressful term. It might’ve been your second year at Seoul University, but you never felt more than welcomed whenever stopping by campus. You’d usually go back home during the summers and get back to the dorms during the school year, but this year it was quite different, as you had to get back to the dorm earlier. Something about a change of roommates was occurring in your department. The dean’s daughter made a fuss about wanting to change rooms so they had to rearrange the rooms. Knowing that you were the only scholarship student in the residence building, they chose to make you move out to make more space for the new tenant.

“That little brat, I swear to god, she’s so spoiled and idiot” Jimin groaned as he watched you pack your belongings

“Don’t say that, Jimin” you nudged his arm “I mean, she does have a right to do this. She’s still the dean’s, one and only daughter.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that her IQ is lower than Hoseok’s grades. I despise people of her type the most”

“Why do you hate on her so much?”

“Because she ruined your summer! You had to get on a 3 hours train ride to pick up your stuff Y/N. Why can’t you realize that she’s an annoying brat? She purposely made you move your ass from your vacation break to come in town.”

“She probably didn’t mean it that way! I actually decided to drop by in advance, so stop it” you patted his arm

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you need to leave your room” Jimin rubbed his temples “Damn you, stupid Park Chaeyoung”

“I always thought she had something for you though…” you raised a brow at him “Like a tiny crush?” you winked

“W-What?! Whoah, that’s the best joke I’ve heard in a century” Jimin flushed a slight tint of red “Girls like her are what I want to avoid the most.” He scoffed “In the last two years I’ve lived on campus, I never saw a girl as whiny and as spoiled as her. Do you realize that her majesty has a personal slave that holds her goddamn haute couture Gucci bag? Even Taehyung who owns the whole Gucci collection doesn’t do that kind of shit”

“But still, she asked nicely” you replied “It’s her last year before leaving for Ireland. That’s the least I can do to help her, as a student”

“That’s the problem with you Y/N” Jimin pointed at you “You’re way too f*cking nice to be real.”

“Come on, it’s just a room” you rolled your eyes

“You’re moving to the science department dorms! Do you realize how creepy most of these guys are?”

“I always thought they were brilliant though “you grabbed your clothes “Namjoon Sunbae is such a cutie. He was the best T.A I ever had in my years here”

“Namjoon is an exception, I’m talking about the weird guys who are in the engineering department. They always become weird as f*ck around finals.” Jimin sighed “They apparently become crazy because of their work load. Take Yuta for example! He didn’t even last a semester in there! He gave up halfway and changed programs” He sighed “These poor beings.”

“Oh, are you talking about those weird rumors of them being perverts? The boys who are taking engineering at Seoul U, are cute though, well that’s what I always thought” you commented “They’re not crazy”

“Okay yes, they seem all normal, but that’s because you’re a girl. They won’t show you their real nature” Jimin pressed his back on the wall

“What about you? Mr. Psychology. Stop digging too far inside my brain with your manipulative talks” you stared at him

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you so concerned about me, talking to the boys in engineering?” you raised a suspicious brow “Is it Jungkook who told you to look out for me, again?”

Keep reading

Five Seconds (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: When you confessed to Richie, you got the expected response, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. Not even a week later he decides to talk to you, not so subtly jealous about you spending time with Ben. Things sort of…escalate from there.

Warnings: Cussing and Kissing. (oh no, not kissing! *parents screaming, children crying, Ohio catches on fire*) This is a request. DON’T HESITATE TO SEND IN REQUESTS. (Don’t send in like 50 tho. I still need sleep.)

Word Count: 1,697


“Can I t-talk to you.”

Richie stops laughing at Stan and, still giggling, turns to you. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You glance over Richie’s shoulder to see Beverly shoot you a thumbs up. “I’ve been, well- It was Beverly’s idea! But for a while now…” You stumbled over words, trying to soften the embarrassing blow of ‘I have a crush on you’.

“I like you!” You blurt, deciding to get it over with. “I l-like you as more than a friend.”

There’s a moment of silence in which you count the seconds that painfully tick by.

One. Richie’s mouth opens and closes, you can see his eyes dart to the other boys. They’re whooping and hollering, pushing him and giggling like idiots.

Two. You can feel the headrush hit you hard, along with waves of nausea.

Three. Teasing smiles stay on the boys’ faces, but Beverly’s melts off. She knows. She knows what’s going to happen.

Four. Richie’s ears turn fire hydrant red as you grow pale and faint. His eyes once again scan the boys, who continue to tease without mercy. You close your eyes, wishing they’d stop. There would be nothing to celebrate.

Five. “I’m s-sorry…”

Keep reading

Delivery Boy

Jeon Jungkook of BTS x reader (Y/N) smut. Plain and simple.

Originally posted by jimiyoong



Halloween, your favourite time of the year. You had always loved dressing up, even as a little girl.
Your family had always hosted a Halloween party and just because you were now an adult and off at school, it didn’t mean you were going to stop the party. Hell no. If anything, you knew it’d be crazier than any party your parents could throw, after all, it’d be full of young adults getting drunk in fancy dress and no doubt fucking in any corner they could.
You made a mental note to lock your bedroom door before people started to turn up.

Most of your housemates had gone off to different parties around the city and only one remained, Taehyung.
He had been almost as excited for the party as you and insisted on helping you plan and set it all up. He also insisted you went in matching outfits, dressed as an old-fashioned couple he saw in a painting in the loft that thoroughly creeped him out. That painting was now the pride of place above the drinks table for the duration of Halloween month, as you called it.
Taehyung hadn’t entered the living room since you put it up and it always amused you seeing him avoid it at all costs.

“Get the door Y/N!” Taehyung yelled from his room where he was well, you didn’t know what but you didn’t want to even question it after the last time you did and he went into explicit detail about the fantasy he was having while masturbating.

You groaned but dragged yourself to answer the front door, having barely heard it over the music you had playing.

On the other side of the door stood a male with dark hair and brown, doe eyes. He was wearing a pizza delivery uniform, a piece of paper in his hands.

“You’re early.” You mumbled, taking in his outfit. “Pizza delivery guy, huh? Honestly never seen that one before.” You mused, flashing the attractive stranger a grin. He blinked a few times then showed you the paper. “Wait, you’re actually a delivery guy?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “Am I at the wrong place?”

“No, I just wasn’t aware we ordered anything. One sec.” You backed up into the hallway to stand at the bottom of the stairs. “Yah! Did you order pizza?!” You yelled. Taehyung grunted back a yes in response, sounded breathless. “Ew.” You shuddered and returned tot he door. “Guess you definitely are.” She looked at the paper, reading the order. “How fucking much did he order?”

“Having a party, I assume?” He chuckled, looking at your outfit up and down.

“Nah, I just like dressing like a sexually frustrated Victorian woman in my spare time.” He let out a breath of understanding.

“We all have our kinks.” He teased and you gasped, reaching out to nudge him in faux offence. He giggled and you couldn’t help but smile, laughing to yourself.

Were you really flirting with the delivery guy?
You looked him over again, slower to really take in every inch of his being.
Yes. You were definitely flirting with the delivery guy.

“So, should I start bringing it up?” He asked, pointing over his shoulder to the car parked on the road.

“Oh right, yeah, I’ll help.”

“Okay.” He grinned, glad for the help and together, you ferried the takeout from the car and into the kitchen.

He looked down curiously as you set up the boxes on the counters, around already existing food displays.

“Wow, you guys really like Halloween, huh?” He spoke, looking at all the decorations in awe. A lot of which you had made by hand the months before ass it was cheaper than buying some that probably wouldn’t even fit your ideas anyway.

“We hate it.”

“You’re really sarcastic, huh?”

“Never.” You looked at him then to see him grinning at you in amusement. “You know, you kind of look familiar.” You tilted your head at him, knitting your brows together.

“So do you. Maybe we’ve crossed paths before?” He suggested, looking as lost as you felt trying to recall why you felt like you’d seen him before.

“Yeah maybe. Do you go to school here?”

“On campus?” He pointed to the floor, signifying the campus your house resided on.

“Nah, I meant the playschool down the road. You’re a child, right?” He squared his eyes, giving you a playful warning glance. “Aw, isn’t it cute when little boys think they can scare grown-ups?” A gasp of surprise left your lips when he suddenly closed the gap between you, your chests almost touching, his head tilted down to look at you menacingly, a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Want to call me a little boy again, huh?” He challenged, licking his lips. “See where it gets you.”

“Oh, honey.” You scoffed, snapping back to yourself. You bravely took the last step between you, your toes touching, your chest gently pushed against his, not missing how he inhaled sharply and flicked his tongue out to wet his lips again. “You can’t be suggesting you can make me take back my words.” He nodded confidently. “Oh little boy, you can’t make me do shit.”

“Watch me.” He growled cockily before pushing you against the wall, his lips crashing to yours.

He had only knocked your door ten minutes previous and here you were making out with the delivery guy in a room chock full of sexual tension you two quickly created.
He let out a breathy moan when you bit his bottom lip gently. It was the single hottest thing you had ever heard and you knew you were wet.

“Fuck, is this seriously a thing that is actually happening?” You panted out, looking up into his eyes that were suddenly a lot darker, turning you on further.

“I really hope so.” He confessed.

“Fuck, me too.” You nodded and pulled him back down to lock your lips together, wasting no time and flicking your tongue out. He parted his lips and your tongues met, rubbing together earning moans from the both of you.

“When does your party start?” He asked when your lips parted only for yours to trace that intense, sharp jawline of his.

“Seven.” He checked his watch.

“It’s half six.”

“Plenty of time.” Without warning, he picked you up and sat you on his hips, pushing his body to yours. You gasped feeling his growing erection through all the layers of clothing between you.

“Okay I know this outfit probably took a lot of time but you need to take it off before I fucking rip it off.” He warned, practically growling as he glared at the layers of fabric that made up your skirt. You giggled and reached around to pull on the ribbon holding the back closed. He watched in impatient fascination ad you quickly removed the bottom half of your dress, leaving you in the tight blouse and underwear.
“I shouldn’t find this as hot as I do but fuck, I really do.” You giggled and circled your hips, rubbing against the large bulge in his trousers making him moan lowly.

“I can tell.” You teased.

“You’re saying I’m the only one turned on right now? Because I can feel how wet you are through my pants, sweetheart.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
Surely he was lying, it wasn’t possible to feel such a thing, right?
A shakey moan left your lips when he slid a hand between your bodies to touch his long fingers to your clothes heat.
“Oh, babygirl, you’re fucking soaked.” He cooed, smirking at you when your cheeks darkened. “Don’t be embarrassed."He pressed teasing kisses across your jaw as his voice dropped, whispering to you in a tone that was so low it shot straight to your core. "It’s so fucking hot.” He growled before his lips attached to your neck, sucking on the skin. You gasped and gripped his shoulders, fingers digging in when his fingers started to rub at you through your damp underwear.

“Wh-what’s your name?” You stuttered, his fingers hooking under your underwear to touch you directly. Your eyes closed and your head tipped back, absentmindedly grinding your hips down onto his digits as they teased you.

“Hm? My name? Why do you want-”

“I want to know what I should moan out.”

“Jungkook.” He rushed out without hesitation making you chuckle. “What’s your’s?”

“Y/N.” He hummed against your neck before saying your name in a breathy tone that made you moan his name back at him.

“My name sounds perfect coming from your lips.” Your legs tightened around him when he slid a finger into you. “God, you’re so fucking wet, my finger just slides right in. I bet you can take another huh Y/N? Think you can take more princess?” You nodded and a second finger followed his first. You moaned and held him tighter as they curled inside of you.

“J-Jungkook.” You almost pleaded breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I-I don’t want your fingers.” He stopped his movements, ceasing abusing your walls with the pads of his fingers in search for your g-spot.

“What?” He looked rejected and leant back slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. “Should I leave?”

“No.” You laughed and brushed your lips over his. “I want your cock, baby.” His eyes sparked with lust again and he nodded. He put you down to unbuckle his belt, hands fumbling in anticipation. You giggled seeing he was growing frustrated with the button on his jeans that just wouldn’t open. You put your hands over his and opened the fly easily. He dropped his hands to his side, licking his dry lips, eyes not leaving your figure as you lowered onto your knees in front of him, pulling down his jeans as you went until they were around his knees.
Your eyes lifted to meet his gaze as you pulled down his boxers too. He bit his lip and threaded his fingers into your hair to tug you closer suggestively.
It was clear what he wanted you to do, where he wanted you but he didn’t want to make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

A smirk lifted your lips and you stuck your tongue out, flattening it against the underside of his erection before licking from the base upwards, swirling your tongue around the tip. Jungkook moaned, his fingers gripping your hair tighter. His eyes wanted to close and focus on the pleasure but you looked so damn sinful on your knees in front of him like that he couldn’t pass up the chance to drink in the sight.

It didn’t take long for your teasing motions on his erection to really wind him up. He was breathing heavily, body tensed, watching to thrust into your mouth but not following his body’s wishes, by the time she gripped your shoulders and pulled you up to your feet.

He spun you and pushed you against the wall. Your hands flew out to slap against the brickwork making you hiss in pain. But the hurt left almost instantly. Jungkook all but ripped your panties in his rush to get them off.

One large hand gripped your bare hip to hold you still, pull your arse towards him more.

Jungkook grabbed his dick with his free hand and allowed himself a few pumps, spreading his precum up and down his length, as he took in the sight of you bent over, braced against the wall with legs spread, waiting for him to fuck you.
As soon as his tip lined with your entrance, he started to push forward, entering you slowly.
Satisfied moans left both your lips at the feeling. It felt as if you had been waiting for that moment for a long time, months not way under an hour.

Jungkook’s hips met yours as he bottomed out and he allowed you both a few moments to get used to it, soak in the feeling of him filling you so deliciously before he started to rock his hips.
His thrusts were slow and pretty shallow at first, testing the waters before he picked up his rhythm, fucking you harder and deeper than anyone had in a long time.

Your fingers scraped against the wall, moans shamelessly leaving your parted lips as he hit deep within you.

Jungkook had his jaw clenched tight, trying to make as little noise as possible. As much as he was enjoying himself, he was almost enjoying hearing your noises of pleasure just as much.

You realised you could only hear the occasional grunt of effort from him and closed your mouth, sulking.

“W-what’re you doing?” He panted, slowing down slightly to talk without his voice breaking too much.

“I want to hear you.” You spoke.

“What?” He chuckled and fell still. You pushed up slightly and looked over your shoulder at him. He licked his lips at your dark expression, his hips shallowly thrusting into you again without him even really registering so.

“I want to hear how good you feel Jungkook. Moan for me baby.” You encouraged.

“You want that?”

“So fucking much.” He pulled your back to his chest making you whimper as he reached a new, better spot inside you, to kiss you heavily.
You moaned into his mouth when he returned to snapping his hips into you.
You had to pull out of the kiss, unable to focus on it when he was hitting the perfect spot inside you that made you see spots.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He moaned, wrapping one arm around your waist and pressing his palm against your chest to keep you against him int hat position. His other hand reached over to rest against the wall once he had moved you both forward before his hips went fucking wild.

You were practically screaming in pleasure, your nails dragging down his forearm, leaving red marks. Jungkook was certain you had even broken the skin but it only spurred him on.

“Fu-fuck, Jungkook.” You whined, your legs starting to shake.

“Are you going to cum?” He panted into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver as it fanned over your neck. You nodded. “Good, cum on my cock like a good girl, Y/N.”
A loud moan left your lips as the pleasure in your stomach exploding sending your hips jutting as your orgasm hit you.

Jungkook gritted his teeth, determined to last a little longer despite your walls clenching and spasming around him. But the second you moaned his name, he lost it and his hips slammed against you roughly a few times as he came, squeezing his eyes tight and burying his face in your neck.

Your walls clenched a little tighter at the sound of your name falling from his lips like a fucked out mantra.

Slowly, you both came down from your highs and caught your breath back.
Jungkook’s face scrunched into a wince against your neck as he pulled out of you before letting you go, a little reluctantly it felt, to pull his clothing back up and tuck himself away.

“Well, that’s the best tip I’ve ever gotten.” He sniggered and you rolled your eyes before laughing too, collecting your clothing. You turned to look at him sternly upon finding a hole in your underwear, at the waistband.

“Jungkook!” You exclaimed. He looked at the garment before grinning sheepishly at you. “These are my favourite ones!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll replace them.” He offered, taking them from your hand quickly to look them over. You ignored him to put your skirt back on, glad it was floor length and there was no chance anyone would know you were without underwear.

“Right, okay.” You held your hand out. He held the item closer. “You’re seriously going to steal my ripped underwear?”

“I need them so I know what I’m replacing.” He argued. You gave him a disbelieving look. “Like you want them back now they’re ripped anyway.” He scoffed and tucked the item into his pocket. You simply rolled your eyes again. “I should get back to work. I still have another delivery to do. My boss is going to kill me for being late. They’re going to get free pizzas now.” He sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry for letting you fuck me.” You retorted and he chuckled at your sarcasm.

“Never apologise for that. I’ll give away all the pizzas free if I can fuck you again.” You bit your lip, pretending to think as you walked him tot he front door. “So, can I see you again?” He asked turning back to walk tot he door after walking down the porch steps.

“You do owe me underwear.” You grinned. He grinned back and nodded. He checked his watch before looking between his car and you, debating something. He rushed over and held your face to press a heavy, lingering kiss to your lips.
“What’s that? So I don’t forget what you taste like?” You joked.

“Always leave them wanting more.” He winked then practically ran to his car to speed off for his next delivery.
You rolled your eyes and returned to the house, stopping at the hallway mirror to check your reflection and make yourself presentable.

“Did you just fuck the delivery guy?” You jumped hearing Taehyung’s teasing voice at the stairs. You looked over at him with a smirk and he started to cackle. “That’s my girl!” He high fived you before helping you get back into costume properly.

***

It was two hours later when you stopped in shock, seeing a familiar face stood at the bottom of the stairs with Taehyung, the pair goofing around with some of Taehyung’s other friends.
You had just come up from the haunted house in the basement.

“There she is!” Taehyung cooed spotting you. The boys all turned to look at you, the friends of Taehyung’s you had met pulling you to them in drunken affection.

“Alright, boys.” You laughed pulling away to stand between Taehyung and the familiar face.

“Oh, you haven’t met before, have you?” Taehyung drawled, shuffling drunkenly to lean against the stair railing. “This is Kookie.” He spoke pointing to your right, at Jungkook. You looked at him to see he was already smirking at you.

“Ah, the infamous Kookie.” You spoke nodding slowly. “Tae tells me you have like no balls when it comes to girls.” Their friends laughed as you insulted Jungkook. You smirked and he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Guess you know that’s a load of shit.” He replied, voice low.

The conversation was quickly pulled away from you two as Hoseok screamed as a fake spider landed on his head. Everyone erupted in laughter as he ran off to chase the culprit, promising their head on a spear.
The remaining group returned to the conversation, not even noticing as Jungkook moved closer to you and slyly put a hand on your arse.

“Still not wearing any panties huh? Naughty girl.” He teased, groping your flesh roughly.

“I’m not and it makes it that much harder to stop your cum running down my leg.” Jungkook sucked in a breath at that and you looked up at him bravely, not caring that your friends could catch you two flirting so openly, sexual tension already building between your close bodies. “I bet you’d like to see that, hm? Your cum spilling out of me.”

“So fucking much.”

You smirked and excused yourself, walking up to your room.
You knew Jungkook would follow shortly and you had a feeling every orgasm he gave you was going to be better than the last and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to take every chance to fuck your delivery boy.


For my girl @btsmuttin, hope you like it baby

Originally posted by nojamsdirtywater


~Chee

i just made this announcement over on twitter, but like, let’s be real, i’ve been on this horrible blue hell site since i was 16 - and i’m turning 24 on sunday, so that’s essentially a third of my life, yikes - and you guys are wonderful and i love you and you deserve to hear it here first. so.

as most of you know, i finished my first manuscript earlier this year, and i’ve been reservedly liveblogging the absurdly nerve-wracking process of querying agents and throwing my novel out to the wolves. 

and i’m so happy to finally be able to tell you that i’ve accepted an offer of literary representation from brooks sherman of janklow & nesbit associates.

i first became aware of brooks a couple of years ago when my best friend lena, who was loyally and devotedly beta-reading one of my early drafts, suggested i check out becky albertalli’s “simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda.” she thought simon was an exemplary gay ya romance, exactly the kind of thing i was hoping to do. and she was right: simon instantly became one of my favourite books, and becky became one of my favourite authors. i pledged to myself that when i finally worked up the nerve to start talking to agents, i would talk to the guy who helped make simon happen.

but it took a long time. like, a long time. i started writing “teenage victory song” - the name of my novel, a contemporary gay YA love story, hopefully coming soon to a bookstore near you! - back in 2013. specifically, during an 11:30 PM gchat with grace on wednesday, december 11, 2013, which i have archived for historical preservation. so grace is getting the dedication when this thing goes out, naturally. but, yeah, i started writing it in 2013, and only just finished it this spring, and only with the help of some truly incredible people and loyal friends and family - way too many to name here, but you know who you are, and thank you. i love you. if i hadn’t had your love and your support to battle the little grey cloud of depression and trauma and persistent economic instability that hangs over me 24/7, i’d never have gotten this far. writing this book, and keeping myself mentally healthy and happy enough to finish it, is the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. 

i also need to thank benjamin alire saenz, andre alexis, dennis bock, anne michaels, and mallory ortberg for reading various permutations of this manuscript and believing in it and giving me their writerly advice on it. i love all y’all. and, of course, major, major thanks to the lambda literary association, who do so much incredible work for so many lgbt authors, and to whom i will be forever in debt.

i just don’t have words for the fact that brooks read my manuscript and said yes, that he said wow, that he believes in me and in what i’m trying to do with my writing. he represents so many authors whose work i’ve been continually blown away by, and it is patently ridiculous and surreal that i get to stand next to them now? i’ve already mentioned becky albertalli, whose work has done so much to humanize young lgbt people and to normalize gay love for a mainstream audience. or adam silvera, who just put queer boys of colour on the new york times bestsellers list with “they both die at the end,” which i am presently reading and crying over and having my internal organs ripped out by. and last, but definitely not fucking least, angie thomas, who wrote “the hate u give,” very possibly the most important young adult novel of the last twenty years, a heartbreaking and compassionate and warmly funny complete and total masterwork that i inhaled in less than two days. like, i really don’t. have words. these are people who have been heroes of mine for so long. i just started actually crying so i’m going to have to wrap this up lmao.

i grew up in an intensely homophobic and conservative christian household, and when i was probably eleven or twelve i somehow came into possession of a copy of “a great and terrible beauty” by libba bray. i don’t remember anything about it except that it had a subplot involving two girls who kissed each other on the mouth, and when they kissed each other on the mouth, i was so viscerally horrified that i started bawling, and i stood up, walked upstairs to the garbage disposal, and tore the book apart with my bare hands. watched the pages filter down into the garbage. and i don’t, like. i don’t like to damage books. i don’t even fold corners because i don’t like to crease the pages. i still remember it all these years later because my first reaction upon recognizing myself in that kiss was to literally destroy it. and i had to keep that part of myself buried for so many years. reading lgbt ya and fanfiction was some of the only escape i had. i wasn’t able to come out until i was eighteen years old, and when i did, it ultimately meant becoming estranged from my mother forever.

i have so much love and tenderness and compassion for all those previous, wounded versions of me, who went through so much, who hated themselves so much, who spent so much of their teens and early twenties being depressed and closeted and suicidal and dreaming of the day when they might get to be an author. you fucking did it, buddy. i love you so much and i am so proud of everything you did to survive and keep creating.

in conclusion,