i like that he comes with a thumbs up hand too

Homestuck Pool Party Headcanons

John: Canonballs in IMMEDIATELY, he is yelling and he is fucking excited move out of the way this boy is coming through!! Also, because he has a breath aspect I am 413% certain that he can stay underwater for indefinite amounts of time and you can bet your ass he’s going around grabbing people’s feet to freak them out. He and Terezi have a contest to see who can make the most people jump, I will not say who wins I will only say that it is unfortunate for everyone involved. He and Dave are an unstoppable chicken team, they have never lost and will do Whatever It Takes to make sure that remains true.

Dave: Is just chillin, he cares more about keeping his shades dry than swimming around. He will go hard as hell in Marco Polo tho, if you thought he was too cool to jump at the nearest person faster than the speed of light you were wrong buddy he will do what it takes to WIN. Also, when he is the Marco he will (unfairly) target Karkat. This is frustrating. “I’m not even being that loud” Karkat protests for the umpteenth time Dave tags him. “Bullshit” everyone else says, but there’s still a rule that Dave can’t tag Karkat more than five times in a row because really Dave we know you love hearing him yell but Enough Please.

Karkat: Is Bad At Marco Polo. He is so loud. My son. Please. Is very hesitant to get into the water at first bc he’s sensitive to the cold and would rather angrily sweat than deal with the initial shock of getting in. Dave will patiently chill nearby until Karkat is ready, or Dave decides that Karkat is ready in which he will absolutely drag him in. Karkat does not know how to swim so he won’t go past the shallow end, and considering how short he is, uh, that’s not very much of the pool. Dave has to carry him sometimes which he complains about A Lot but secretly kind of likes it whoops. Karkat and Sollux are the shittiest chicken team, Karkat is too afraid of falling in to have any sort of effective strategy and Sollux is like “Karkat just push him” and sort of plows into the other team which just leads to Karkat screeching and nothing gets done.

Roxy: LOVES SWIMMING WITH HER FRIENDS!!! Real people?? That she’s hanging out with?? And you KNOW she’s excited to wear that cute as fuck bikini she alchemized months ago ‘just in case’ ;) ;) ;). After years of knowing Jane and her silly prankster shenanigans, John will absolutely not get the drop on her no sir, he tries to grab her foot she will raise that leg and pull the boy out of the water and give him the Mom Look™. This is war. John will not win. She loves being with Jane and Roxy and her boys!! She is just full of so much love it’s incredible. She deserves this so much.

Calliope: Doesn’t know much about swimming or why humans (and trolls ish) find it so enjoyable, but Roxy is excited so she is too! Interestingly enough, cherubs Do Not Float. Roxy is waving a nervous Callie into the pool and she’s coming down the ladder and once it gets to her chin everyone expects her to do something but no, she makes it to the bottom of the pool and just walks like normal over to where Roxy is. The water level comes up to just below her nose and she has to tilt her head back to speak. “Like this?” She asks excitedly, ‘uh,,, yeah,,,like that’ everyone responds nervously, giving big smiles and thumbs up because they don’t want to disappoint her.

Jade: A master swimmer, she and Jake grew up on an island in the middle of the goddamn pacific my girl knows how to GO. No one realized how fucking ripped Jade was. Jade is ripped as heck. She’s got back and shoulder muscles like an absolute goddess and everyone is like holy shit? Jade? Have you been benching pumpkins all these years? She likes chilling with Jane and Roxy and Calliope because she has been longing for some gals to hang with forever. Not that she doesn’t love Rose, she does, it’s just, they have such differing personalities and anyways it’s kind of hard being around her and Kanaya bc they’re so cute it makes your teeth hurt.

Rose: She and Kanaya have matching floppy sun hats, they love laying out in the sun because Kanaya is a little nervous around water thanks to a certain sea-dweller *cough* eridan *cough*. Rose doesn’t mind, her swimsuits are more for show than swim anyways. She’s got some really cool and intricate goth-y ones and some nice lighthearted pastel ones, an orange and yellow fancy one-piece and a frilly lavender one. Rose has a new appreciation for sunlight but still religiously applies sunscreen because a home girl may be immortal, but fuck if she is gonna deal with any nasty sunburns after defeating the fucking embodiment of evil.

Kanaya: As previously stated, very nervous around water, but so so happy to be in the sun?? It’s not as bright as the one on Alternia which is fine because that means her troll friends can enjoy it too, but she’s literally just so happy to be around people that enjoy the sun the way she does because she’s felt wrong and different about it for years and she finally found someone that understands her ahhshshsjs. She designs all of Rose’s swimsuits and loves seeing her wear them. When it gets dark out, she likes to turn on the glow a little and all these cute little furry wingbeasts will flock to her?? “Those are moths” Rose tells her. “These are my children now” Kanaya pats Rose’s arm, they’re her children too because that’s how human marriage works she’s pretty sure

Dirk: Is so awkward oh my godddd, a little uncomfortable in his body actually? This boy might have muscle but he is all arms and legs and doesn’t know what to do with them because he’s never fuckifnfnfn been around people before. Doesn’t say “Marco” during Marco Polo, he just listens. Breath too loud? You’re tagged. Splash a little? Tagged. Move? Tagged. He’s never Marco for more than two minutes because he’s so in tune with his reflexes that no one even stands a chance. With Jake on his shoulders, they make a decent chicken team, but they’re too worried about each other to be effective. “You okay up there?” He wants to make sure. Someone is tipping Jake over oh no get him off my shoulders is he okay, oh he’s fine, yes I know how the game works Roxy, no Rose why don’t you get in the pool and do a better job before you come for me like that. Rose and Kanaya, in an extremely rare occurrence, do get in for a round of chicken. They beat Dirk and Jake almost immediately. They return to the deck. This never happened and we don’t speak of it.

Jake: Is bad at Marco Polo, he’s an amazing swimmer but he’s not…quiet. After growing up on that island, fighting and swimming, Jake is also Ripped as Heck. Dirk blushes his fucking ass off the first time he sees Jake shirtless. Jake acts all clueless like oh? What’s wrong Dirk? Is something the matter? But he knows exactly what he’s doing and if he’s subtly flexing in front of him, well. That can’t be helped. He may suck during chicken with Dirk, but with Jade on his shoulders? Hoo boy, they give Dave and John a run for their money. He is also John’s favorite to grab the feet of because his reactions are always so over the top with his phrasing. “Horsefeathers!” He grabs at his foot in panic because his first thought is it was one of the monsters from his island, then he sees it was just John who is laughing his ass off because, horse feathers? Really? “I say,” Jake huffs indignantly even though he’s smiling now. “Warn a fellow!”

Jane: Looks rockin’ in her swimsuits because she’s wearing the whole high waisted pinup style ones and?? She’s super gorgeous? Roxy makes sure to tell her that every five seconds just in case she forgets. She and Roxy make a decent chicken team, usually they’re laughing so hard by the end of it that whoever was on top can’t do anything and they fall off because they don’t care about winning they’re just having such a good time. She and Roxy take turns carrying Callie around when the water gets too deep, not that Callie needs to be above the water per se as she seems to have no trouble breathing, but it just makes everyone a little more comfortable and anyways Callie loves it.

Terezi: Killer at Marco Polo for obvious reasons, sometimes she gets tagged on purpose just to show off how quickly she can find people. The only person she’s never been able to get is John, he uses his windy powers to obscure his scent so she can’t “see” him. He is her Marco Polo white whale. One day, John, one day. She and Vriska are terrifying during chicken, Vriska will plow full speed towards the opposing team and Terezi is ready to Throw Hands. The most intense games are between them and John and Dave, both John and Terezi are on top and they fuckin battle it out so hard that Dave and even Vriska start to get nervous on the bottom.

Sollux: Says the water feels slimy. “No shit,” Karkat tells him. “It’s water you fucking shitstain.” Sollux cheats during chicken by using his psiionics to keep Karkat on his shoulders which only makes Karkat mad because he’s terrified of falling in and holy shit Sollux I don’t care what you think your powers are doing I’m gonna fall in fuck fuck fuck. “No I got you” Sollux assures him. He does not. Karkat is not got. Oh well. Sollux mostly likes chilling on inner tubes, plural. He has a blue one and a red one because he’s too tall to fit in just one. “Get a bigger inner tube” Karkat complains. “Perhaps get one of those long, recliner like ones?” Kanaya suggests. No. Sollux will use two inner tubes. He will make the sacrifice of comfort for his aesthetic.

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt

Masterlist linked in bio


If there’s one thing Y/n can’t stand, it’s pity. Which is unfortunate for her, considering that’s all she’s been receiving ever since Harry had broken up with her.

Between her family, her friends, and long-known acquaintances, the pity was never ending. The looks people gave her whenever she occupied a room made her sick to her stomach. Nobody looked at her the way they used to as if their perception of her has been altered from a beautiful, humble woman to a broken heart on legs.

Talking to people didn’t help much, either, considering their irrational fear that one harsh tone could wreck what’s left of her. To those, her identity and name have seemed to be forgotten, only to be replaced by “the girl left with a broken heart, who’s heart has failed to mend.”

It’s all a myth, really—a myth that hasn’t been confirmed or denied within the past four months. Y/n provided no reassurance for anybody, nor did she show any improvement since their break up. But she did try her best. Her attempts to answer the question, “how have you been, you know, since the breakup and all?” with an “I’ve been okay” filled with lies didn’t go unnoticed, however, proved to be unsuccessful.

And the pity only got worse when Harry got a new girlfriend.

It was plastered everywhere, the rumors that Harry’s new girlfriend stayed at his hotel in Los Angeles and traveled with him back to London. They disclosed that her name was Jessica, who works as a travel blogger.

She was beautiful, too. More beautiful than she wanted her to be, as selfish as it was. She was the perfect image for him, especially at the height of his career.

Y/n’s heart hit rock bottom that day. Every unblemished part of it became a ruin, a shattered piece of what was once so full and whole.

Y/n hadn’t expected it, not this fast, at least. When Harry initiated the breakup, he told her that it wasn’t the end of their relationship. He had promised her that with the right amount of distance, all the problems they’ve had in their relationship would be fixed entirely.

She believed him, too. That with maybe some time apart, their bitterness towards each other would decease, and all that would remain would be the overwhelming needs for one another.

She should have never been so gullible. After they broke up, they never spoke to each other again. All their ties had been cut, leaving them both hanging in completely separate lives. Y/n never got over him. How could she? They were soulmates, they were each other’s everything. No matter what came at them, they always found a way back to one another.

But Harry’s fame started skyrocketing, leaving Y/n on the ground with no way to reach him anymore. She should have known he’d find someone else—someone more worthy of his time. She just didn’t want to believe it and didn’t want to believe that it had happened so soon.

“How are you feeling?” Gabby asks, reaching over the wooden table so that her fingers can rest on top of Y/n’s hand; a small gesture that Gabby has been giving Y/n nearly every day for the past four months.

Y/n wishes she found it as comfortable as it intended to be, however she can’t help feeling worse whenever Gabby did so. The gesture undoubtedly derives from the pity Gabby has had toward her ever since the breakup. Everything was because of pity.

She looks down at her cold, untouched hot chocolate as she swirls the straw along the brim, resisting to roll her eyes as it’s the only question everybody has seemed to ask her recently.

“The usual,” she shrugs, “nothing’s really changed.”

Gabby gives her a half smile before returning to her tea. The cafe is only occupied by the both of them, considering it’s 7 in the morning on a Sunday. But after everything that’s happened, Y/n’s sleep schedule has been slacking and Gabby wanted nothing more than to be there for Y/n whenever she had the chance.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Gabby asks. “It’s on me if you want anything.”

Y/n shrugs again, a faint yawn falling from her mouth as she shakes her head.

“No, I’m okay. I think I’ll make some waffles when I get home. But I’ll need to stop at the grocery store before I leave. Ran out of milk and flour the other day.”

“We could stop by now if you’d like. I’m getting quite full, anyways.”

“Yeah, sure” Y/n nods, “sounds fine.”


The entrance doors chime when Y/n and Gabby enter the grocery store, barely any people filling the aisles at such hours. Neither of them speak much before they go their separate ways, grabbing all the necessary ingredients Y/n needs for when she gets home.

When she finds flour on one of the bottom shelves, Y/n bends down to grab the cheapest one she could find. In all honesty, she didn’t have a lot of money to spend since she took some time off of work for “mental health reasons,” and she wanted nothing more than to go back home and spend the rest of her day in bed.

When she stands back up from her squatting position, her body rams into somebody else’s, making everything they both were carrying fall onto the floor.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Y/n gasps, scrambling to pick up the ingredients that have fallen from the girl’s arms.

When Y/n stands back up to return her fallen items, it was as if every nightmare Y/n has ever had was standing right in front of her.

She’d recognize her face anywhere. It haunted her everywhere she went; mocking her and destroying every last bit of her wellbeing. Her face is unforgettable, having been ingrained into her head for so long now. She’s exactly how she is in her pictures, except she’s so much more beautiful in person.

It’s when Y/n’s eyes drift down to the shirt she’s wearing that takes the breath right from her lungs.

The word Lover printed inside of a red heart, the end of it hidden by the pocket right on her chest. It looked so unfamiliar on her—so unfamiliar that tears started piling in her eyes and her lips began to quiver.

That shirt was theirs. That shirt belonged to Y/n and Harry.

Lover.

It was a nickname Y/n always gave Harry. She would have normally settled for “babe” or “baby” like she did with her previous boyfriends, but “lover” came so naturally to her. It exemplified just how unique and rare their relationship was, too.

Harry had never been called that before, but there was something about it that felt so right. The first time she called him that, he blushed like no other. His cheeks and heart felt so warm, and Y/n wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. But no matter how much she joked about how much he blushed that night, it only made her call him that more.

And the more she said it, the more she realized that there was no other name to describe him.

She gave him the shirt for their first anniversary. She was insecure about it, considering it was the only gift she purchased him that year and wasn’t nearly as expensive as all the gifts Harry had given her. But after all the flowers she received had died months later, after all the chocolate he bought her had been eaten in two nights, after all the in-home spa treatments had been used by the both of them progressively throughout the months, and after all the sex they shared died down by the next morning, the only gift that remained so dearly to their hearts was that goddamn shirt.

The shirt became sentimental to their relationship and was almost used as a keepsake between the two of them. The mornings after making love, Y/n found herself slipping it on before rolling out of bed to make breakfast. Harry fell in love with her tendency to do so and always made sure she knew just how much he loved her for it.

This is my favorite look on you, he’d always say, where the shirt hung loosely from her frame and her skin scattered with the marks from his tongue.

Harry wore the shirt as a tradition, most commonly on their anniversaries or on any specific date that held such significance to their relationship. And every time Y/n saw him wearing it, she found it irresistible to kiss the heart designed right upon his chest.

My lover, she’d say, looks so perfect on you.

She never imagined anybody else in it. Even after they had broken up, she never thought the shirt would be passed down to later relationships Harry had with other women. When she moved out, he kept insisting that she should be the one to take it.


He looked down at the shirt all crinkled in his hands, the last compromise they had to make before Y/n officially moved out of their home. Her suitcases were packed neatly by the front door, the darkened sky from the storm waiting to approach making the house feel colder than it already had turned.

Y/n’s body was slumped against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes red with inevitable tears as they were forced to face the harsh reality of what was to come.

After three years of a relationship neither of them expected to end, Harry had insisted that they take a break from each other. With his career coming to its peak and Y/n spending most of her time in the office, their relationship was going through a rough patch that lasted far too long.

“You paid for this, you know,” Harry whispered, obstructing the silence that seemed to make the air around them thicker and harder to breathe, “this is yours, always has been.”

Y/n shook her head, a few loose tears falling from her face as she did so. In all honesty, she didn’t want to be reminded of it after this. It’s held so much meaning between the two of them throughout a majority of their years being together that she couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at it in her selection of wardrobe. Not when Harry won’t be by her side, not when Harry won’t be apart of her life anymore.

She placed her hand on top of his softly, stroking the knuckles of his clenched fingers with her thumb.

“It was ours. But when it comes down to it, I bought it for you. It was a gift, you should keep it.”

Harry clenched his fingers harsher against the fabric, his quivered lips attempting a small smile as he lifted it to his chest. His thumb traced the heart above the pocket, watching as one of his tears soak into the material.

“It looks better on you anyways.” Y/n tried to laugh through the silent cries, but neither of them had the heart to make light of the situation they were facing.

Harry’s eyes narrowed down at her while a small sigh fell from his lips.

“You know I’d never wear this again, right? Not until we find our way back to each other.”

Y/n’s shaken hands wiped the tears from her cheeks, her lips pursed together to ensure her broken sobs wouldn’t surface until she was alone in her car.

“Yeah, until we find our way back.”

She stood on her toes to reach his cheek, where she tentatively placed a kiss on the flushed skin.

“You’ll always be my lover.”


But looking back at it now, she wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a grocery store, crying pathetically in front of a complete stranger if she had just taken the damn thing.

How could he do this to me?

“Babe, are these eggs alr—“

Harry’s words get caught in his throat when he sees Y/n standing in front of Jessica with tears streaming down her face and cries shaking her body.

At first, his instinct is to reach his hand out to her. But as his eyes follow her tearful gaze to Jessica’s shirt, which is far too large for her frame, but still being worn on her body, the realization hits him that it’s probably the last thing she would want.

He flutters his eyes shut as an unbearable feeling starts to rise in his stomach. This is the most unfortunate time to see Y/n again, and he can’t imagine how much hatred flowing through Y/n’s system as he stands there, cowardly silenced.

Not a word comes out of his mouth. Not even a pathetic stutter of her name, or even a lift of his lips to greet her in the most minimal of ways.

The only thought swirling through Y/n’s mind is how could you not say anything to me? After everything you did, after what I’m witnessing now, how is there not one word to say?

He watches as pain settles in her eyes as she looks at him. It’s as if she’s begging for an explanation, or even an apology he doesn’t really mean. She’s just looking for something, and knowing that she’s not getting anything is taking all the remaining life out of her.  

But he has so much to say. There are so many apologies, so many thoughts all scrambling in his head that everything becomes incoherent. He wants to tell her how sorry he is, and how hard it is to live with himself after all that he’s done to her. He wants to tell her that he never gave her that fucking shirt, that Jessica found it in one of his drawers and put it on while he was still sleeping from the night before. He wants to tell her that it isn’t what it looks like, that it isn’t what everybody thinks this is. But his throat tightens and his tongue suddenly becomes numb, completely preventing him from saying all the things he wishes to say.

“Y/n, is everything alr—”

Gabby halts when she discovers Y/n’s crying body being watched by the very two people that broke her heart. She’s breaking, so evidently breaking and neither one of them are doing anything about it.

“I w—want to go home.” Y/n’s voice cracks, face twisting as Harry still doesn’t find anything to say to her. “Let’s just go home.”

If Gabby hadn’t witnessed her best friend go through so much pain within the last four months, she would have been able to contain all the rage she’s held toward Harry. But something inside of her snaps when she sees the shirt Jessica’s wearing.

“No!” Gabby spits.

Before anybody sees it happening, Gabby slams her fists against Harry’s chest. Jessica begins to scream while Y/n jumps in an attempt to remove Gabby’s wild arms away from him.

Harry doesn’t do anything to defend himself, though, as he allows her to keep swinging her arms at him. All he can think about it how much he deserves it—how much he deserves all of what’s coming at him.

“You’re such a fucking jerk, Harry!” Gabby roars. “You ruined her! Who the fuck do you think you are?!“

“Gab, stop.” Y/n mumbles, finally able to capture her arms.

Gabby squirms as she tries to escape Y/n’s harsh hold on her, but against Y/n’s anger mixed with all her overwhelming emotions, there is no match.

Y/n starts to push Gabby toward the doors, and it takes every bit of strength left in her to not turn around to look at him one last time. 

“You’re her biggest mistake! I hope you know that!”

Sometimes John and Sherlock accidentally talk all night.

Like maybe the intention to go to sleep at a normal time was there, but then they get distracted.

11 PM: They finish the movie and it just naturally feels like time for bed. Teeth are cleaned, doors are locked, and they settle in between the sheets, and damn is the bed comfortable compared to the haphazard dog pile of limbs they had gotten into on the sofa.

“What did you think of the film?”

“Nice; very enjoyable.”

“Did I tell you it was my favorite when I was a kid?”

“No. Really?”

“Yeah. Would watch it on repeat.”

“Interesting. But it’s no longer your favorite?”

“Right. I dunno- I still love it, but not in the same way.”

“I understand. Your favorite now is that one Bond, um…Die Another Day?”

“Yeah.” John gives Sherlock a small, soft smile. He looks almost bewitched.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s for you. ”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because it’s really nice to have someone remember things like that about me.”

1 AM: The discussion has shifted to favorites, and why they’re favorites.

“So you would rather listen to that same Rolling Stones album again and again for eternity than ever even trying something like Debussey?”

“Correct.”

“Alright, well, now I know.”

“You know what?”

“That we’re breaking up.”

They laugh.

2 AM: …and now they’re just naming things they like.

John: “Long car journeys”

Sherlock: “The smell of coffee.”

“You hate coffee.”

“I hate the taste of coffee.”

“You are a complex being.”

“Thank you.”

They laugh some more.

John: “Rainy mornings that last all day.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They’re lovely.”

“Why’s that?”

Sherlock fidgets with his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“Because you always wake me very…pleasantly… and often you continue waking me pleasantly for most of the morning…afternoon…even into the evening sometimes.”

“Do I? When it’s raining?”

“Yes. Not every time, but under a certain set of conditions I can, for the most part, look at the forecast for the morning the night before and know in advance whether or not I’ll be getting anything done the next day.”

John looks back at him, a concoction of surprise, then near embarrassment, then a sly smile.

“Interesting, see, I find that I get one thing in particular done consistently on those days.”

Sherlock snorts.

4 AM: The topic has shifted between worst hangover stories and crazy uni memories to some more difficult things, like John’s time in the service, and Sherlock’s addiction.

“We’ve sort of been dealt a few tough hands eh?”

“Truly.”

“Makes me want to take you away somewhere and just be relaxed for a bit.”

“I would agree to that in an instant.”

“Yeah? Let’s do that, then.”

“Fantastic idea!”

“I do get them on occasion.”

More laughter.

5 AM:

John is trying to work in to the concersation something he’s been wanting Sherlock to know for a long time. It’s difficult, though- he’s never really said anything like this- anything so personal.

“It says a lot about you, I think, that I can do things like this- stay awake all night, not having to be overwhelmed or rampant. You balance me, John.”

“Yeah..yeah I- I know what you mean. You also- I mean, you sort of…I don’t dread…my life to come…anymore. I used to think of all the days and years I had left to endure, wonder how I would fill them, hoping I could find something that wouldn’t feel so miserable, something to settle for, but you- fuck, Sherlock, I think back to that now and it feels like a horrible nightmare. I’m…more than just glad, to have found you. You- damn, this is hard, I-”

Sherlock ties his fingers with John’s and moves even closer.

"Take your time. No rush. No pressure. Anything you want to tell me, you can. You’re safe here.”

"I suppose…You umm…you made me rethink- my plans, for me, yes. But not only that, you also showed me a way of living so different from what I had known, so much better and full of richness, I look back at those days where I no longer wanted to be alive and think -it’s probably because I wasn’t alive. I had every responsibility and felt every drawback of life but was denied any of the good stuff. You showed me so much more than I ever knew was out there- you sort of saved my life by…showing me how to live it? That’s so cheesy, I-”

And now Sherlock is crying. So John starts crying.

6 AM: they’ve got themselves together by now and moved on to something a little lighter.

"Right…so, you mean to tell me that James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, scary man with an affinity for the latest in explosive fashion, still sleeps with a teddy bear?”

"Precisely.”

"How did you figure that one out?”

"It took a few-visits- to piece it together, mostly because I was in disbelief myself, but he shows signs of a stiff neck as if he sleeps in an extremely bent position with one arm hooked partially under himself, likely around a small item. Persistence of this soreness shows that he didn’t just sleep wrong once, he makes a habit of this position. But what really sealed the realization was the right thumbnail. Much shorter than all the others, wrinkled texture, dry skin around the edges where the rest of his finers are immaculately manicured. Exposed to moisture for long periods of time.”

"No fuckin way!”

"Oh yes. He sucks his thumb. What a terrifying creature.”

Hysterical laughter.

"I’m always curious what you could tell about me right away and what took you a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous path John- not everyone wants to know what others can tell about them.”

"Yeah but I’m just tired enough to ask anyway.”

"Well, all the things I pointed out at Bart’s…then more and more about your childhood based on your dating habits…around a month after we moved in I had narrowed down the approximate size of your…tyre lever…”

"Really?”

"Well…I had underestimated, to be honest. Your stature is misleading, as I’m sure you know.”-

"So, that is to say, you were-”

"Incredibly anxious and then surprised in the best possible way.”

"I was going for ‘not disappointed’, but alright.”

"Not in the slightest. My God, not even a little. In fact, what’s the opposite of disappointed?”

"Satisfied?”

"More than.”

"Sated?”

"Never.”

7 AM: Talking has ceased. The sun seeps in at the sides of the drapes, pale and gray. It’s a bit chilly, but neither know- it’s aafe and warm in the bubble of their room.

Neither sleep until around noon, after tea and toast in bed- the rain hits the roof in steady droves, tapping occasionally at the window if the wind blows a certain way.

Sherlock gets absolutely no work done.
NHL!Bitty, Part IX - ‘Loose Lips Sink Ships’

(Alright, you guys voted for #2, so enjoy!)

Eric gets hit on in a hotel bar during All-Star weekend. For the first time in a long time, it’s not because he’s a famous hockey player.

It would be very flattering, except the man trying to seduce him works for Jack’s PR firm, and bro is playing fast and loose with some seriously confidential information. 

NHL!Bitty Masterpost!


It’s been a long, exhausting day. Between the flight, check-in, the press junket, the photo ops, all Eric wants is to get a little bit drunk with the guys, grab some dinner, and fool around in Jack’s hotel room. Hopefully in that order, but he’s open to fooling around whenever.

He must have a dopey smile on his face thinking about the debauchery he’s been looking forward to all week when he realizes someone is watching him from across the bar. 

Tall, nice hair, professional, and he’s looking at Eric, no, at the empty chair next to him. And he’s walking over. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Keep reading

Manners (Jimin smut)

Originally posted by kookiyoon

Description: Jimin is your best friend’s roommate, and to say you get on each other’s nerves would be an understatement. Jimin decides it is his mission to teach you some ‘manners’.

This fic includes: Explicit smut, ‘good girl’ term, dominance games, hate love type dynamic, light spanking, ‘teaching of manners’ lmfaoo

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jimin x You (ft Yoongi and Taehyung)

Word count: 4.5k

You lazily played a game on Yoongi’s phone, your eyes peering up every now and then to look at the TV screen, displaying a movie utterly boring to you. You let out an unintentional sigh; you were considering getting up to scour for food.

“Why are you here if you’re so bored?” Jimin asked from the other side of Yoongi, whose lap your head lay upon. You sat up to match Jimin’s glare.

“Jimin.” You heard Yoongi scold under his breath. Deciding not to waste your energy, you ignored Jimin and got up to search through their fridge. Yoongi thought you couldn’t hear him once you were in the kitchen, and you barely could, but his low and deep voice rung through the practically silent dorm “I’m so sick of you being such a dick to Y/N. Go say sorry.”

“What?” Jimin laughed. “I’m not a child.”

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice was so stern you got goose bumps.

“Whatever.” Jimin mumbled, his light footsteps approaching the kitchen. You quickly stuffed your head in the fridge, acting like you were very busy. When you looked up, closing the fridge door with a muffin in your hand, Jimin is leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle frown on his face. 

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home.” Jimin says, his eyes pointing at the treat in your hands. You smile tauntingly, not breaking eye contact as you take an excessively big bite.

“Thanks.” You mumble through your full mouth.

“Gosh, did no one ever teach you manners?” He asks with a serious expression.

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ifeelbetterer  asked:

Gotg prompt: how did Rocket learn to speak Groot?

“Repeat after me, Quill: I am Groot.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.

Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”

“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”

“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said ‘I am Groot’.”

“Which is … the same?”

Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”

“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”

Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”

“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”

“That was only once, and you had it coming –”

“Rocket –”

“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”

“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.

Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.

Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.

“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.

“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”

“Humor me.”

Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”

Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”

“Well … yeah?”

The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”

“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.

“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”

“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”

“That’s real precise.”

“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”

“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”

“Thanks.”

“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”

Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”

He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”

“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”

“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”

“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”

“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.

It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”

Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.

“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.

The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.

“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”

Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”

“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”

“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”

“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart – but it could only do so much.

Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.

The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.

The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –

“I am Groot?”

Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.

“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.

“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”

“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.

“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”

“I am Groot!”

Good Girl (M)

Plot: Good girls always had a bad side to them, and some people just brought that out – whether it be a shitty dorm mate or her boyfriend.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, slight angst(?), highschool au!

Warnings: Being blessed by the Jungcock, cheating, oral (giving), praising, implied masturbation

Notes: I hope this smut will make up how slow I’m becoming. I can’t help it because exams. And I can’t believe It hit 140+ followers???? What the heck???? How?? Thank you so much. I feel so great about that. 2,042 Words

Originally posted by jeonify

You were probably one of the most angelic people in your year. You were always kind, got good grades, did your homework – it was a shame you were stuck with a bitch as a roommate. Kim Jenna was always out partying, high-key manipulative, and just got around a lot. 

It was a surprise people actually liked her more than you.

Maybe it was because she was prettier, You pondered sometimes. Maybe it was because she actually talked to everyone, and didn’t just sit alone during lunch. Insecurity was probably the bane of your existence when you were around Jenna, especially since she teased you.

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food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

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instant gratification (m)

Originally posted by pjmksj

fuccboii jk x cheerleader! reader ft sex in an instant photobooth

7k, smut

WARNING: this is just pure smut no plot whatsoever lmao and it’s filthy as hell read at ur own risk


11.57am [Jeon Jeongguk]: Quad. Now.

The brevity of his text should annoy you, but it only ignites a desire that burns insistently till it’s quenched. With your screen brightness turned down this low, it should be hard for anyone but you to decipher the words on your screen, but you still jump in surprise and guilt when your roommate, Sejong taps you on the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t forget practice is at 12.30pm today, don’t be late!! Coach already seemed near the end of her rope the last time and the team sure as hell doesn’t need her cracking down any harder. Got it?” Sejong might be your dearest roommate, but as captain of the cheer team she definitely takes her duties very seriously.

Swallowing back nervous laughter, you attempt to flash her an easy smile. “Yes, I promise I’ll be there on time!! It won’t happen anymore, I swear.”

You quickly stash away your phone in your bag and finish adjusting your knee socks before standing and bidding her a hasty goodbye.

“Wait, you’re leaving now? There’s still like half an hour before we start!” Sejong narrows her eyes at you just as your hand lands upon the door handle. Even facing away from her you can feel her scrutinising gaze on your back, and your urgency to leave the room increases.

“Uhh… yeah, you said my splits needed some work last time right? I think I’m gonna go in early and get some practice in.” To your own ears your excuse sounds flimsy and coupled with the slight tremor in your voice, you’re almost definitely sure that Sejong will call you out.

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Vive el Momento (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Requested: No, but @illuminateshawn and I live for drunk, festival Mendes in that red shirt from Amsterdam.

Word count: 4,947

“Can I have three large beers, thanks” I smiled, handing the girl in front of me my money. The sun was burning into my back, heating up my entire body slowly.

“I just love this weather” my friend Julia said. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to fully enjoy the warm rays of sun burning in her face.

“Me too” I agreed, looking around the festival filled with drunk people having fun everywhere.

To me, this was what summer was all about; heat, friends, music and beers. Actually, going to festivals was my happy place, I loved the whole idea of just letting go and enjoy yourself as much as possible; meeting new people and staying up until the early hours when the sun rose again.

“Girl, don’t look now but that guy… he’s looking again” Julia laughed, taking of her black sunglasses.

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Defects (M)

Muses: jungkook x reader
Genre: Angsty angst angst
Warning: mentions of cheating, sex (it’s all over the place) and plain old defect in the soulmate system.
Words: 4.1k
Note: Wrote all this Jungkook’s cover, Beautiful, a Goblin OST is on replay.

Concept: Every time you meet your soulmate, your pocket watch will start counting down the time you have with them until you part. For the amount of time you’re away from each other, whether it’s a month, a day, or just hours, the time is at a pause as your watch stares back at you with unmoving hands on the 12th hour. When you meet again, the countdown restarts.

Summary: Your watch comes alive in Jungkook’s presence, but often time, never as long as you will it to be no matter how hard you pray to the fates. The moments with him are fleeting and brief like the akin-to magical seconds you spend watching the cityscape buzz to life on nights you can’t sleep - nights Jungkook isn’t there to kiss your worries away and disappear like the wind blowing through cities at the break of dawn. When your the hands on your watch stills with glaring zeroes, you know where he’s at, you know who he’s with - he goes back to her, the woman who his time starts and ends with.

Originally posted by nnochu

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anonymous asked:

I just got some really, really bad news. Can I get some tooth rottingly sweet drarry fluff to try and balance it out? ❤️

Draco is not a sappy person.  Absolutely not.  

He most definitely doesn’t keep all the anniversary and Christmas cards Harry has ever given him in a hidden drawer in his desk.  Nor does he circle the days they will  see each other on his calendar in invisible ink lest his nosy secretary accidentally see.

He definitely does not carry a picture of the two of them from their first Christmas together in his, smiling and laughing and looking free, in his wallet,  enchanted to look like a business card should anyone but him look at it.  

And he definitely, definitely is not head over heals in love with Harry Potter.

So when he goes into Waldrick’s Wizarding Wares and Fine Jewelry that Tuesday afternoon it is only look because he is not a man of rash decisions.  He’d simply seem an attractive gold band glimmering in the window and decided to have a look is all.

When he leaves the shoppe two hours later his wallet is considerably lighter and his robe pocket feels extraordinarily heavy, especially for for such a small box.  He slips his hand inside his pocket, wrapping it around the box and letting his thumb caress the smooth velvet.  His heart feels too big and his courage too small.  He most definitely is not proposing to Harry.

He carries the box in his pocket for exactly 87 days.  In fact he almost convinces himself he means not to do it too, because they’ve got a great thing going and he will not be the one to muck it up.  He simply will not risk it.

Until the 88th day.

Harry sleeps over and when Draco awakes the next morning it is to the glorious sight of Harry splayed across his bed, his legs tangled in the sheets and his body radiating a warmth that Draco finds intoxicating.  His hair is a complete disaster and his mouth hangs open just a bit, his entire body heavy with sleep.  He looks so relaxed, so at peace and something in Draco breaks in that moment at the idea of Harry ever leaving.  He thinks of the nights Harry is gone and he clings to the empty sheets inhaling his scent and wishing he were here.    

And then Harry is rolling over towards him, a smile spreading across his face before he even opens his eyes as he presses his lips against Draco’s neck in a gentle kiss.

“Marry me?” Draco whispers.

Harry pulls back with a jump, his eyes bright and perhaps a little hopeful. “Are you serious?”

“If I hadn’t been serious I wouldn’t have asked,” Draco replies shortly, a bit of insecurity creeping back in.  Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all.

“But when we first got together you said you’d never get married,” Harry says, and Draco isn’t sure if its a statement or a question but he feels Harry’s hands trembling and understands that he is not the only one unsure.

“I say a lot of things I don’t mean.  Now is not one of those times.  I don’t want you to leave.  Ever.  I don’t want you come to my flat or me go to yours; I want a place that’s ours.  I don’t want to ever see you walking away and not know that you’re coming back to me every time.  I love you, Harry, and I don’t say it enough.  But I do, with everything I am.  You make me a better man and I want you as mine.  Forever.  Please say yes.”

“Yes!” Harry all but yells, pinning him down against the bed.  “Fuck yes,” Harry says again and Draco doesn’t even have time to consider the shakiness in Harry’s voice because Harry is kissing him as if he might actually die if he stops; desperate and demanding and consuming.

Hours later, when Harry is asleep again, Draco traces a heart on the bare skin of Harry’s back, memorizing the way he’d looked when he’d said yes and he thinks that perhaps he might just be a little bit sappy.

The First Time With Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by syeons

Genre: romance/fluff
Pairing: Jungkook/You
Length: 12203 words
Summary: This a series based on all of your first times with Jungkook from your childhood till when you both reach adult hood.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 /PART 6


THE FIRST TIME YOU KISSED

“You tell me Y/N, do you want this?” he brushes his thumb over your cheek “Do you want to kiss me?”

Before you could ever give your response to him, reality hits the shameless boy like a train. What was he thinking when he asked you such a question? His sudden tendency to take your feelings for granted by working his moves on you, wasn’t how he ever wanted it to be. He was curious and quite greedy about having the chance to win your first kiss. Was it still like a competition for him? Was he toying with you or was he being serious?

Jungkook was your best friend and his intentions were never ill to begin with. You knew from day one, when he held your hand and decided to be your friend back then in kindergarten, that he was anything but harmful. You were well aware of the fact that he could be trusted, and all these years of friendship proved that he was a keeper. Maybe you could trust him? But what would it change? Only jungkook had the answers and decisions to take in this very moment, yet he suddenly stepped away from you

What am I doing, right now? Jungkook would suddenly ask himself as he eyed your lips up-close for the first time in his life

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For My Eyes Only

Note: thanks for the request, darlin! I hope it’s not too short! feedback is welcome! .c

Request:  Can you do one where reader shows up to a ball very very beautiful in a high-fashion gown which attracts so much unwanted attention making fiance!Bucky irritated af?

Originally posted by lancefuckrr


Your hands flattened, running down your hips in your red ball gown. Tony had been planning a ball for the team, something he set his sight on after months of non-stop missions. You’d rather get cozy and watch movies with the team, but Tony likes to go above and beyond. You grew to accept his need for parties when he was feeling too anxious. It was his way of winding down and feeling like he was on solid ground again.

A soft sigh fell from your lips as you finished styling your hair and you took a look in the mirror once again. You were nervous to wear such a bold dress. The sleeves and chest area was a floral lace material, with a puffed out waist, cascading down to the floor.

Red was definitely your color, you never failed to look good in it. It also helped that it was one of Bucky’s favorite colors on you. It took you ages to find the perfect dress, and when your eyes landed on this, you knew it was the one you’d be wearing.

Your eyes fell to the shiny diamond ring on your left finger and your stomach fluttered happily. You’ve been engaged to Bucky for a year, having dated for three years prior to his amazing and beautiful proposal. You didn’t think Bucky could be anymore romantic-he was a sucker for sweet stuff-but a proposal at the first place you met was heartwarming.

A knock sounding at your door made you nearly jump out of your heels. “Coming!” You called out as you walked towards your bedroom door, careful not to trip over yourself. You opened it and smiled as you saw Nat and Wanda dressed to the nines with their hair perfectly styled and lips painted.

Nat was wearing a tight black dress and black heels, her hair loosely curled, framing her face in a flattering way. You knew she wasn’t one for going to the extremes with her dresses, and you couldn’t believe how subtle it was, all the while making her look like a queen at the same time.

Wanda wore a red dress that was similar to yours, rhinestones littering the chest area and it was sleeveless, and her hair was neatly straightened. Her heels were black, as well. You had to take it all in for a moment, appreciating the fine detail and of course, how beautiful she looked in it. Your friends were definitely heart breakers.

“Earth to Y/N?” Nat said, waving her hand in front of your face. You giggled and shook your head, coming or of your daze. “Sorry! You guys just look smoking hot!” You blushed and ushered them out into the hallway, shutting the door behind you.

Us? Look at you! You look gorgeous!” Wanda said with a wide smile, her teeth shining. You rolled your eyes playfully and walked down to the elevator.

“Thanks! I just can’t believe Tony would throw a ball.” You shook your head lightly as Nat pressed the up button on the elevator. “The man is rich, he would throw parties like this every night if he could.” Wanda muttered, making you and Nat laugh as you all entered the elevator.

The ride was short and you hooked arms with Nat and Wanda, walking down the hallway until you turned into the doors of Tony’s large dance room. He did not disappoint. Everything was decorated intricately and the music was actually good this time.

Nat scoffed and leaned into your side. “All eyes are on you, of course.” She mumbled with a smirk. Your eyebrows raised slightly and you turned to look at the crowd, seeing the eyes of men looking at you. 

Wanda giggled softly on your other side. “Don’t let Bucky know. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” She said, laughing a little harder at your mortified expression. You groaned in annoyance and discomfort. 

Nat and Wanda separated from you after seeing their dates-Vision and Bruce- leaving you by the door. You didn’t mind, it gave you time to search for Bucky.

You scanned the dance floor, spotting Sam dancing with two women, twirling them both. His eyes lifted in your direction and you nearly doubled over in laughter as you watched him trip over his feet. 

You could see him faintly word ‘holy shit’ under his breath as he took in your appearance. The two women noticed his eyes on you and they stormed off, leaving Sam to follow after them like a lost puppy.

Your eyes left Sam and you spotted Tony at the bar with Steve and Bucky by his side. A smile formed on your lips as you made your way over there, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Though, as you were walking, you noticed the faint turn of heads, the sense that everyone was watching you creeping up your spine.

Swallowing the nervousness that bubbled in your lower belly, hoping you weren’t actually gaining the attention of every male in the room, you made it to the bar and leaned into Bucky’s arm. “Hey, stranger.” You murmured in his ear. He turned to you and instantly his mouth fell open.

“Doll, you look…” He was rendered speechless, his cheeks burning with blush as he looked at you. He swore you were straight from a fairy tale. The ring on your finger confirming his thoughts that you were really his. You giggled and stood away from him, spinning around so he could look at your dress.

Steve stood to his feet as you turned to face them again. He looked down at you, keeping you at arms length before hugging you. “Y/N, you look gorgeous!” Steve breathed, his blue eyes just as wide as Bucky’s. Tony turned to see what caught their attention after his sentence died down and he gasped upon seeing you.

Tony crossed over to you and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips. “You look stunning.” He said with a smile, kissing the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but blush, easily flustered at any compliment. Bucky scoffed and shoved Tony out of the way. His arm wrapped around your waist and he kissed your head.

“Watch yourself, Tony.” Bucky warned, pulling you closer. You giggled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He smiled down at you and trailed his finger down your jawline. “She’s beautiful and for my eyes only.” He murmured to you, loud enough for the other two to hear. You hummed in response, smiling as Bucky kissed your nose.

“Sorry, but every man in here has his eyes on her.” Tony stated with a shrug. He always enjoyed getting a rise out of the super soldier. Bucky immediately stood up straighter, his head whipping around to look at the crowd. Tony was right. Nearly every man was looking your way. “Are you serious?” Bucky growled, his jaw clenching.

Bucky instantly wanted to get you out of there. His hold on you had gotten tighter and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Tony snickered at Bucky’s reaction. “You better keep her close, old man. One of these men won’t hesitate to take her away.” With a pat on Bucky’s shoulder, Tony left with a smug grin, leaving him a fuming mess.

“No man is going to steal you away from me.” Bucky said more so to himself than you. You gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise that won’t happen, Bucky.” He sighed heavily, his fingers digging into your side.

You looked out into the crowd and felt rather small after meeting eyes with a man, a slight smirk forming on his lips as he held onto another woman, completely oblivious to his wandering eyes. Steve scoffed and shook his head, having witnessed the action. “I can’t believe men act like this now.” He said, crossing his arms.

Before you knew it, a different man was walking over to the bar, his hand running through his slicked-back hair. You absentmindedly shrunk into Bucky’s side as he walked by you and he smirked down at you.

“Evening, beautiful.” He said with a deep voice, sending a knowing glance to Bucky, nearly challenging him. Your expression matched Steve’s: wide mouth, wide eyes, full of shock. Was he serious?

You felt Bucky start to move towards him, hearing a low growl rumble in his chest. “You fucking-” You gasped and pulled him away quickly, “No, Bucky, don’t.” You pleaded. Steve quickly helped you move Bucky away and left the man at the bar, keeping your eyes on Bucky’s shaking figure. 

“I’ve got him, Steve.” You said softly, watching Steve debate whether staying beside you two or enjoying his evening. He nodded gently and looked at Bucky before walking off, disappearing in the crowd.

“Let’s just dance. Don’t worry about it.” You said softly, caressing Bucky’s hand with your thumb. You pulled Bucky towards you and your ears perked as you heard “Burning Love” come on.

“Lord almighty, I feel my temperature risin’!”

A gasp fell from your lips and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reaction. The look on your face instantly calmed him. You were bubbling with laughter and your cheeks nearly split from how wide your smile was as the both of you fell in sync during the song. You had to admit, he hasn’t lost his rhythm.

As the song played through, you and Bucky never missed a beat. It felt perfect and you both had forgotten the unwanted attention from the men in the crowd. You were twirling and dancing around with Bucky, a smile permanently etched on your faces.

Just as the song was about to end, Bucky pulled you to his body, your hands resting on his chest as he dipped you.

You gasped and looked up into his eyes, slithering your arms around his neck. “What are you doing?” You asked, nearly breathless. Bucky leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, making your heart jump in your chest. It was full of passion and need, love and adoration.

Pulling away, Bucky stood you both upright again and you felt lightheaded from the kiss. “That.” He said with a bright smile. You shook your head as you giggled and rested your forehead on his chest, the next song slipping into a soft, slow melody.

Bucky kissed your head as you swayed back and forth. “I love you. You’re mine.” He whispered, his hand resting on the small of your back. You nodded and lifted your head up to look at him. “I’m yours. I love you too, fiance.” You said sweetly. Bucky blushed and lifted your hand to kiss the ring on your finger.

“I love the sound of that.”

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Best Friends and Barely There Clothing

Helloooo lovies! So this is my first imagine on this blog, and I do hope you enjoy it! I will be posting lots of imagines and blurbs etc. regarding Harry, and most will contain smut! But I will of course have writings that are just pure fluff as well! Enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut & Language

Word Count: 3k

“Don’ tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Having a baby with you?” You asked breathlessly, your eyes falling closed as Harry began to move your hips over his bulge, causing you to let out a quiet whimper as the fabric of his jeans rubbed through the thin lace material covering your clit.

“No love,” he let out a throaty laugh, his eyes moving down to where you two were currently grinding against one another, “Don’ know why I was thinkin’ of havin’ a baby, really… was mainly just thinking about sinking my cock inside of ya, pet.”

Your eyes snapped open as the words left his mouth as you pressed your clit down against him to gain even more friction as his words literally caused you to throb at the thought, “Harry…” you whimpered quietly, your fingers now gripping onto his tshirt tightly.

“Do you wan’ tha’?” His accent was thicker than you had ever heard before as you stared into his darkening eyes, and all you could do was nod your head and let out a breathy sigh of agreement along with it. Somewhere among your exchange of words, Harry’s hand had slipped into your panties and his finger was slowly moving around your clit, but not quite applying the pressure you were currently craving; he was going to make you beg for it.

OR the one where Harry really can’t stop thinking about the act of making babies with his best friend, and he’s tired of her slinking around his house wearing barely anything.


“Would ya ever have a baby with me?” The words slipped past his lips casually, his eyes trained on you as he brought the wine glass that was in his hands to a rest on the coffee table in front of you two.

“Excuse me?” You all but choked as the words registered, the wine that was gracefully slipping down your throat coming to an abrupt stop and getting stuck in your vocal pipes, causing you to cough for a few seconds as you worked it out. Your sea green eyes flicked up to his emerald ones, squinting as he watched you with amusement, a small smirk playing on his lips as he captured his bottom one between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry was your best friend. Harry had been your best friend for almost 6 years now, and you had been by his side almost every step of his career, cheering him on and encouraging him to take leaps he was too afraid of. But you were only best friends… why would a baby together ever cross his mind? You two may have shared one or two (or ten or twenty) drunken kisses on nights when you stumbled into one another’s flat, coats being haphazardly thrown to the floor and lips meeting in a sloppy goodnight as you both fell onto whomevers bed you had chosen for the night before passing out, but that was it.

“What? Not weird to think about having a baby with ya best friend, is it?” His smirk was only getting wider as you let out an exasperated breath, your eyes narrowing to slits as you decided to place your wine glass on the table next to his.

“S'just….” he continued, refusing to break eye contact, “What if m'not married by the time I’m 30. Ya know more than anyone I wanna have kids… so if m'not married and you’re not… would ya have a baby with me?”

Keep reading

Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

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Sleepless

Summary: You and Sam both have insomnia, so you find a way to entertain yourselves.

Warning: smut

Word Count: 1550

A/N: It’s been a while since I wrote Sam x reader. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


12:36 AM

Insomnia does weird things to a person.

Under no other circumstances would you be sitting in the library of the bunker, reading about the weaponry forged in fourteenth century Japan to combat a monster that was essentially an ocean-dwelling werewolf.

Yeah. Can’t make this shit up.

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s(t)imulation || part 1/2

This is my contribution to @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K follower AU writing challenge!
#57 - movie star / celebrity


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
word count: 1179
warnings: AU, smut

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

“Come on,” Bucky moans. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

It’s in the script, printed there in black and white, but it’s still a shock to you anyway. His voice is pitched low and rough. His blue eyes are bright and sparkling as he looks down at you. His dick is rubbing against your clit, and even through two layers of fabric, you can feel him hot and hard and thick against you. So when he tells you to come, you do it, and you hope that everyone else thinks your acting is just that good.

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I Trust You

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of accidental injuries, angst, swearing, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1630

Summary: Bucky accidentally hurts you the night before and you try to keep him from finding out. 

Request: Hi I just found your blog and I fell in love, could you write a request where Bucky accidentally hurts Reader during sex, maybe he is thrusts too rough and he mistakes her cries for moans of pleasure and doesn’t realized he hurt her until after his orgasm, but he makes it up to her

A/N: I deviated a little from the request but in essence it’s all still there. Also It’s late, this is unedited. All mistakes are my own so please forgive them. 


You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know.

Bucky hadn’t meant to do it and you knew that, but accident or not if he ever found out you were sure he’d never touch you again, hell he would probably stay as far from you as he could get, and that was something you didn’t want to risk. He’d been making so much progress over the last few months, only recently becoming comfortable with you being on his left side.

During the first stages of your relationship Bucky had kept you on his right side at all times, worried that something might happen if you got too close to the gleaming metal plates. It was only after patience and months of showing him he wasn’t about to lose control of himself that he slowly let himself relax. There was no way that you were about to back peddle all of that persistence over a bruise he didn’t mean to make. All you had to do was keep it covered until it healed.

Honestly you hadn’t even felt it to begin with, way too lost in the feeling of Bucky’s sharp breaths and hard thrusts. It was only after you’d come down fully from your high and Bucky had fallen asleep that you felt the dull throbbing around your wrist.

There was no mistaking the perfect outline of Bucky’s fingers in the dark, blotchy skin; the imprint of where metal had met flesh. He had pinned your wrist above your head as he pistoned his hips into yours, and fuck, had it felt amazing. Your orgasm had slammed into you so hard that you felt your eyes tip to the back of your skull, your throat raw from how hard you had chanted his name. You really didn’t want to taint a memory like that.

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