is there even a cabinet tag

tag yourself
  • Light: angry child, likes murder and death, enjoys long walks to chip cabinet
  • L: refuses to sit in a chair like a normal person, bribes people with strawberries, no blood in body as it has been replaced with sugar
  • Mello: yummy yummy chocolate in tummy, thinks they're high fashion but in reality only wears sleeveless vests, always #2
  • Near: smol child, always #1 effortlessly, enjoys toys and puzzles
  • Ryuk: antisocial, has withdrawals when going too long without apples, constantly internally asks "lol what even am i"
S/o falls asleep anywhere (Batboys headcanon)

Requested: Yes
Request: Hc for batboys with a reader who falls asleep in weird places, ontop of the fridge, in the cabinet, under a table, in the doghouse, heck maybe in front of a bed or couch 
Tag: @pinkwitch21

  • At first they’d think you’re like joking
  • Like this shit has to be an act or something
  • Then when they find you actually sleeping in some bizarre place
  • They would be very very very confused
  • like head scratching confused
  • “beloved….h….how even?” 
  • “What the actual fuck y/n”
  • I must be seeing things, maybe it’s all the coffee, y/n how did you get up there?”
  • Like you would be sleeping on the tv table
  • They might be very concerned about your health
  • what if you fall off something in your sleep and they aren’t there
  • They will come see if you’re safely in bed every night when they patrol
  • They just don’t want you to get hurt and such

Masterlist
Ask

With love,
-K

I Wanna Break Free-Winchesters X Sister!Reader

I Wanna Break Free- Winchesters X Sister!Reader

A/N: Just a shittiy lil’ mini fic I wrote waiting for a ride home. No beta. I don’t have time to edit so eat up bitches.

Summary: Sam and Dean disguise themselves as federal agents to bust their sister out of a holding cell.

“Hello, I am agent Plant. This is my partner agent Johnson. We’re here to see the Jane Doe.” Sam fished inside his pocket for his fake FBI badge.

His fingers closed around the fake I.D and he flashed it inches from the nose of a greasy old police man. Dean gave a stern smile as he too produced his badge. They were currently inside of a small local police station. Rows of desks and file cabinets lined the rectangle floors. Across the room, rows of holding cells could be seen through the small window of a reinforced door. The place was dead. It was barely eight in the evening and the only person in the whole station was a greasy old cop with a name tag saying “Briggs”.

With a heavy sigh, Briggs lead the two brothers to his desk. He sat down and searched through his drawers until he found a thin file. He passed it to Dean who snatched it with a annoyed look on his face.

Sam peered over Dean’s shoulder as they thumbed through the file.

Inside was a large printed mugshot. Two Y/C eyes stared angrily back at them. Dean looked up and met his younger brothers gaze with a small nod.

“Well, agents. I’m glad you came. Caught the girl creeping around a murder scene about two days ago. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since.” Briggs began to speak

Dean cocked and eyebrow, “You don’t say.”

“She hasn’t shut up since we brought her in. Punched my best officer. Spit on my secretary. I though she was just a typical youth. You know, with no respect for authority. Probably just snooping around the wrong place at the wrong time.” Briggs continued to speak leading the boys towards the back where the door lead to the holding cells.

“What changed your mind? I mean if she’s just an innocent kid, why are you holding her?” Sam asked in a calm questioning voice.

“Oh here comes the fun part boys,” Briggs pulled a key ring out of his pocket,“ She has no fingerprints.”

“What do you mean?” Dean grunted.

Briggs continued to pick through the keys,“ I mean no fingerprints. Burned em’ off. By the looks of it years ago. And then when we searched her we found three fake I.Ds all with different names.”

“Okay. So what do you know about her.” Dean asked with a shrug.

“Nothing. Zilch. Zero. No record of her anywhere, no fingerprints-obviously- her aliases were comprised of the most common names registered in the U.S, so there is no way to find her among them.” Briggs produced a jagged bronze key and inserted it into the door.

Unlocking the door, Briggs pushed his way inside and held the door open for the two taller men. A dull humming a could be heard from the end of the cell row. Two small hands were visible through the bars. The chipped F/C fingernails were drumming excessively on the cell’s door.

“Something doesn’t add up with her. And the body count is getting pretty high around here. We tried everything to get her to talk, but we can’t even find out her name.” Briggs shook his head.

At the sound of his voice the fingers stopped tapping and the hands retreated into the cell.

There was a moment of silence and then a familiar voice belted out,“ I want to break freeeeeeeee. Yeah! I want to break freeeeeeeee!”

“There she goes again. I’m gonna look the other way, agents. Just figure out how she fits into this case and get the he’ll out of my station” The door slammed shut and Briggs heavy footsteps faded.

Sam and Dean shook their heads and followed the off key singing to the end of the cells.

“I want to break through from your lieeeees.” She singing continued.

As they came to a halt, the brothers took in the sight before then. Y/N Winchester their younger sister, was currently leaned up against the wall. Her eyes squeezed tight as she continued to sing. Her head tilted towards the ceiling. Dean’s eyes lit up as he cracked a smile. A chuckle bubbled from deep within Sam’s throat. The eldest brothers smile faltered as he noticed the zip ties around Y/N’s wrists.

“What the hell happened, Y/N” he shouted angrily. Y/N pried her eyes open.

“I went to check the crime scene for sulfur like you asked.” She responded in a low voice.

“Check the crime scene for sulfur. She went to check the crime scene for sulfur.” Dean mocked Y/N in a high pitched voice. He threw his hands in the air and pushed passed his younger brother in a huff. Y/N and Sam eyes him as she stomped away.

Sam locked eyes with his sister in a gentle manner,“ Y/N, why didn’t you call. It’s been two days we thought you were gone!”

Y/N could hear the worry in his voice.

“I tried, Sam. I really did. But officer dickwad wouldn’t give me a phone call and when I tried to escape they fucking zip tied me.”

Sam’s gigantic hands reached through the bars to ruffle her H/C hair. Y/N smiled and leaned into the affectionate touch.

“It’s okay. Dean and I are here to get you out.” With a glance over his shoulder, Sam pulled out a knife and began slicing the zip ties around her wrists.

“I’m sorry, Sam. One of my first times in the action and I fuck it up by getting taken in by the stupid police.” Tears were fighting to form in Y/N’s eyes.

The zip ties fell away from her hands. Sam gave her a small smile.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk about it later. Gotta learn how to learn to lie to the police somehow.”

“Yeah! Look at it this way. You just popped your cherry!” Dean’s voice startled them both. Y/N scrunched her nose at her brothers synonym. Shaking off a disapproving look from Sam, Dean turned to Y/N.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk. I was just worried.” He admitted.

“It’s okay, you can make it up to me somehow .” Y/N promised.

Dean reached into his pocket,“We’ll let me start making it  up to you now. He reached through the bars and placed something in Y/N’s hand. She felt the cool metal key drop into her palm.

"The key!” Y/N lunged towards to bars and began to unlock the cell door. Dean couldn’t help the pride he felt as he watched his baby sister preform her first jailbreak.

“Lets hustle, Y/N. Briggs ain’t gonna be out for long and I want to be at least halfway out of town before he wakes up.” Dean turned on his heel.

Sam waited for Y/N to finish unlocking the cell, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her out of the station.

The three of them silently crept passed Briggs, who was laying in the floor with an impressive knot forming on his head.

“How’d you get caught anyway?” Dean’s voice cut through the silence as he unlocked the doors to the impala.Y/N slid into the backseat and watched the car dip under Sam’s weight.

“I left the window open and I guess the cops drove by and thought it looked suspicious.” She looked down at her lap.

“Heh, rookie mistake.” Sam’s face grinned at her from the rear view mirror. Y/N’s face brightened a little.  Dean stretched and turned to looks at his younger sister. He was about to say something when he was disrupted by yelling.

“What the hell? Get back here!” A muffled voice came from behind the car. Briggs was barreling towards the impala with a speed impressive for his age.

“Shit!” Dean hissed. Snapping forward he slammed his foot on the gas. The impala peeled out of the parking lot with an impressive speed. Y/N turned and Briggs was swallowed into the darkness. With a content sigh she nestled into the back seat. A small smile was evident on Y/N’s face as the three siblings raced into the night.

Personal Stylist

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3,066 (because I don’t know how to control myself)

Warnings: Language, FLUFF, teeeeeensy bit of angst (like, if you squint)

Plot/Prompt: Bucky’s settling into the tower well enough, but his hair has become a little unruly.  The reader offers to help him cut it and realizes a little too late how close this will put her to the man she loves.

A/N: (I NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE SUMMARIES???)  This is just something that popped into my head other day and I had to explore it. I had to include the gif at the end too, I mean just LOOK at it. Please let me know what y’all think, I’d love some feedback!  and If you’d like to be tagged in any of my future fics, let me know!

This doesn’t have a Beta, so if you see any typos or mistakes, feel free to let me know! (but be kind, please :)

Originally posted by marvel-dirtbag

For weeks now, the tower had been all abuzz with talk of how Bucky was beginning to settle in.  He had gotten his own quarters in the tower, had settled into a workout regimen every morning at 5 am sharp, he had unpacked completely and hell he even had his own cabinet in the kitchen full of mugs and food that was off limits to anyone else.

But there were many ways that he was having trouble settling in as well. Movie nights could be particularly trying, too many people piled into one room. He would come sometimes, bless him, despite his discomfort but most nights ended up with him high-tailing it out of there when it became too much. Working out in the gym could be particularly trying as well. Some days he could get through his whole routine without any problems. Others, his heart would beat just a little too fast and send his arm into panic mode. The last time that had happened, he had stormed back to his room after snapping a barbell in half.  He would never admit that it was only when you were there that he found it so damn hard to focus.

He was warm enough with mostly everyone, obviously being the closest to Steve, but even with his best friend, he could be closed off when the pain was bad enough. Bucky and Sam seemed to get on well enough, Sam being the one who spoke the most in the relationship.  He would crack jokes and pester the ever living shit out of his new friend, but you could occasionally catch the brunette smiling under his long locks.  Natasha mostly kept her distance, afraid that this early on in his recovery that she would only make things worse with the memories of how they knew each other in another life.  Clint, of course, stayed by her side so he wasn’t around him much either. It seemed that Bucky liked you well enough, neither going out of his way to being overly kind or overly antagonistic towards you.  He was just there, sometimes seeming like he wanted to blend into the background.  And, god help you, all you wanted was to hold him and tell him everything would be ok and that you cared.

The only presence that was anything close to unwelcome for the man out of time was Tony Stark.

After their encounter in Siberia and the discovery of the Starks’ true fate, their friendship was nothing short of strained.  They each stayed in their own lane so to speak, and didn’t go out of their way to cause any trouble for the other - but you could tell the tension was there.  Hell, how could you not?  The air all but changed when the two were in a room together and almost it made you want to get out as fast as you could.

Almost.

Something else that had become very apparent to you in the several weeks since he moved in, was that you were hopelessly infatuated with James Buchanan Barnes.  Everything about him had bewitched you and you were completely and utterly helpless when Bucky was involved.  You were enamored with the way he walked, with the interesting way he spoke - a unique blend of modern and 40’s lingo.  You found it beyond endearing how a man of his stature could seem so powerful in one moment, then completely puppy like the next, and how your heart would skip a beat when his signature boyish smirk would grace his beautiful features.  You were at his mercy, and you wanted to be by him at all times.

But that just wasn’t realistic.

Steve was Bucky’s safety net, not you.  All you could do was offer a helping hand and wait off to the side, giving the object of your affection all the space he needed to heal.  And heal he did!  Aside from a few select incidents - being the movie nights and gym accidents - Bucky had made remarkable progress.

There was one subject, however, that seemed to particularly get under Bucky’s skin.

“So when are you going to cut that mane of yours?”  You didn’t bother looking up as you rolled your eyes at Tony’s question, knowing he damn well knew this was not something to just shove in Bucky’s face.

Sure, Bucky’s hair had grown a little unruly - well, ok more than a little - but it was an incredibly sensitive subject for him.  Some days he couldn’t even bring himself to brush it, let alone cut it.  It had grown so long that it reached beyond his collar bones and could now be tied into a full-fledged ponytail.  It was obvious that his hair was a great source of stress for him, that you could tell from the split ends and the knots.  When the memories of Hydra reared their ugly head, Bucky’s hand immediately shot up to pull at his impossibly long locks before yanking painfully.  He would tear at the offending locks as if the disheveled mop reminded him too much of the weapon he had become rather than the man he had been before. Casting your eyes to the man in question, you found him across from you, his jaw clenched and mug gripped tightly in his right hand.

“Tony, seriously?”  Steve snapped from where he sat beside his best friend.

“What?  It’s an honest question.”

“I like it long,”  Bucky mumbled into his coffee, not bothering to look at the pestering genius.  Even you could tell that wasn’t the whole truth.  Tony didn’t seem satisfied with his answer.

“You know, I could set you up with my stylist.  She does a magnificent job, can even trim up your scruff for you too.  And she isn’t bad on the eyes, either, soldier.”  You would be lying if you said your jaw didn’t clench at Tony’s bait, your fingers damn near breaking your glass.

“No.  I don’t want any high profile stylist messing with my hair.”  You could almost hear the I don’t want the attention that was no doubt on the tip of his tongue as he glared at Stark.

“I could take you to my barber, Buck.  He only uses shears and a straight razor.  And his shop is straight out of old Brooklyn.  It’s just like the shops we used to go to, sometimes I feel like I’m back hom-back in the 40’s again.”  Steve offered with a smile.  Bucky relaxed visibly at the offer, but not enough.

“Look, man, I appreciate it but…This isn’t the forties anymore,”  He sighed as he ran his metal fingers through his greasy locks, the joints snagging some of the knots making him hiss.  “Besides, I…I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Oh.

Oh, this poor, beautiful soul.  You had noticed how he tensed at the mention of a straight blade, but you hadn’t realized why.  Even when talking about his own comfort - he didn’t want to take that chance that he could put anyone in danger.

And just when you thought his heart couldn’t get any more beautiful.

“I could do it.”  Had you said that aloud?

“What?”  And just like that, you were looking at three confused pairs of eyes.

“I, uh, I could help.  I’ve cut hair before.  Used to do my mom’s and sister’s hair all the time.  You wouldn’t even have to leave the tower.”  God Y/N, shut up!  He obviously doesn’t want to be bothered, just stop -

“Could you really?”  Two endless blue eyes stared back at you, a small smile lighting up that handsome face that made your heart shutter so.

“Yeah, if you want.”  You were merely rewarded with a nod and a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.  A smile that made him look 5 years younger. A smile that made his eyes crinkle in that way that you had only seen from the pictures Steve had shown you of a Bucky so long ago.

“Last time I try being nice.” Tony sniffled as he left the room in a huff, earning chuckles from the three of you that remained.


By the time you had gathered everything to do Bucky’s hair, you were shaking. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? All you wanted to do was help the man you loved but now all you could think of was how close you would be to him.

You had sent him to shower and wash his hair, giving you time to grab everything you needed and to calm your nerves.  Plus, you knew that if you had to wash Bucky’s hair before cutting it you would’ve passed out.  Cutting his hair was one thing, but washing it - could you be trusted to do something so intimate with him without imploding?

Was it just you, or was he taking forever?  Had he changed his mind?  Maybe he had run off to Tony’s stylist, the promise of eye candy worth of a Stark more enticing than your measly offer?  Maybe he would never talk to you again!

A sudden loud knock echoed through the room, breaking you from your thoughts. Steeling yourself for what was to come, you made your way over to the door. And there he was. Bucky Barnes, filling out your entire doorway with his shy eyes cast down at his feet, and in his hands….was a box from your favorite pizza place.

“I uh…I thought I would bring…uh, heh. It’s your favorite.”  He stuttered as he stepped in, shoving the pizza into your hands before rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.  You had no idea he even knew your favorite restaurant, let alone your favorite pizza.  But he had gotten it right!  Right down to the most obscure toppings!

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what-”

“It’s my way of saying thanks.” He interrupted, fingers tugging at his outrageously long locks.

“You really don’t have to do that.” You offered with a smile as you set the box down on your coffee table.

“Well, neither do you.” He damn near whispered as you lead him over to the stool you had swiped from the kitchen. “I could always just -”

“Go see Steve’s barber? Or Tony’s girl?” You chuckled, ignoring the jealousy that crept its way into your heart. “This isn’t about anyone else, Buck. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with. And if that means having a friend cut your hair, then I’m more than happy to fit the bill.”

You were gifted with a warm smile as you gently tugged at Bucky’s shirt, encouraging him to remove it lest the hair get caught all in it.  Silently, he pulled it over his head and - oh sweet lord that was a lot of man.  You tried not to stare, you really did.  But, how could you not when all that skin was on display for you?!  If it weren’t for the sobering thought that this was, in fact, your friend, your friend in need no less, you never would’ve taken your eyes off of him.

“So how short do you want it?” You asked quietly as you turned your attention to running your fingers through his wet locks. You were so caught up in the feeling that you missed the way he sighed and leaned into your touch.  Without a word, Bucky raised his hand to gesture to his chin, indicating his desired length. You nodded as you reached for your shears, putting a gentle hand on his right shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want it any shorter? You know, you don’t want to go back to the hair you had before?”

“Honestly Y/N, that Bucky is gone.  I don’t want to keep pretending to be him, especially with what it would do to Steve.  Besides…I’ve gotten used to longer hair.”  He gave a sad smile as he ran his thick fingers through his hair, leaning back when you advanced.

“Ready?”

You could hear him gulp at your question and almost stopped out of fright. Was this ok? Was he having second thoughts? But then he gave a weak smile and a quiet chuckle.

“Please, make me look somewhat human again.” He joked, deep blue eyes finding yours.

“You’ve got it, Buck.”

It was deathly silent as you made the first cut, the snip echoing loud and clear. Bucky immediately tensed under your hand as he watched the hair flutter down to land on his knees.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just…I can’t remember that last time I had a haircut.” He mumbled as he stared at the hair laying in his lap.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Please don’t.”

The silence pursued as you cut away, trimming off the dead ends and ridding Bucky of about three inches. As you finished, you abandoned your scissors off to the side before handing him a hand mirror and doing your best to fluff his hair. Little remnants of snipped hair fell from his locks as it settled into place with the help of your fingers and you could see Bucky’s face lift in the mirror.  You were incredibly proud of your work as you examined him, his once semi-matted hair laying calmly, falling just so around his face.  The split ends were gone, and the clean cut gave a new life to Bucky’s hair, and it even lightened your brooding soldier a bit.  And when a blinding smile erupted onto his face, you fell in love all over again.

“Do you like it?” You pressed as you walked out in front of him. Your rambling persisted as you continued to pluck at his new do, shifting it so it would lay correctly on his head. “I think it looks good, not too short, but I don’t know. I hope it’s ok, I -”

Your words died in your throat as two strong arms circled your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.  You were sure Bucky could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest as his head pressed to your stomach, but if he could he didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you.”  He whispered, and if you didn’t know any better you could swear you heard tears in his voice.  You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled for wrapping your arms around him as well as he tugged you closer.  It was only when your legs gave out and you were forced to straddle Bucky’s lap that he pulled his head from you to look into your eyes.  “Really, thank you.  You have no idea what this means to me.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched his hair in a way that wasn’t meant to overpower him.  Countless fists had knotted in his hair before, yanking with a terrible force as The Winter Soldier would be driven to his knees or strapped into some damn machine.  But your fingers…your fingers had carded through his soft hair in a way that he couldn’t recall ever feeling.  You had brushed the knots from his wet hair as you revered the beauty of it, getting lost in the sheen and the way it had framed his face.  It hadn’t escaped him how you hummed as his locks drug between your fingers and it had sent full chills all the way up his spine.  

Now he had you here, legs on either side of his lap, your arms lazily draped over his shoulders as his hands loosely clasped at your hips.  And when he looked up into your eyes with his own deep gaze, everything within him shattered.  With blinding speed, he shot forward, his own fingers lacing in your hair as his chapped lips pressed against yours.  An excited squeal forced its way past your lips as you rocked with the shock of the kiss, not hesitating even a moment to melt into him.  Immediately, your fingers sought out his hair, your nails scraping gently against his scalp.  The sensation shook Bucky to his very core, and when he sighed against your lips, you deepened the kiss.  Strong hands tightened around your hips and tugged you ever closer as you kissed each other until your lungs stung.

When you pulled away from each other, the first thing you noticed was how swollen Bucky’s lips were from kissing you.  Absentmindedly, you drew your lip between your teeth.  The soldier below you groaned at the sight before resting his forehead against yours.

“Man, I should’ve asked you to cut my hair ages ago.”  He huffed out, a small smirk painted across his perfect lips.  Your giggle caught you off guard as you swatted his left shoulder before laying your head against Bucky’s chest.

“And to think, you could’ve seen Tony’s girl instead.”

“Let Stark keep her.  I’ve got my own girl.”  He winked before dropping another kiss to you forehead and pulling you into another tight embrace.  It was that moment that you realized Bucky was still covered in hair, and incredibly, incredibly shirtless.

“Um, Buck?  You’re kind of covered in hair.”  Glancing down, the soldier pulled away just enough to get a good look at himself.

“Well then, how about I take another shower, then we can see about joining the others for movie night?”  Your heart nearly soared at the question and you resituated yourself so that you could really look at him.

“Bucky, are you sure?  You don’t have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable.”  You leveled as you placed your hand against his chest.  Well, that was a sensation you wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“And miss out on spending more time with you?  Y/N, you seriously underestimate how intoxicating you are.”

That night, Bucky made it farther through movie night than ever before.  He managed to make it through almost the whole movie, only needed to duck out 30 minutes before the end of the movie, but tonight was different.  Tonight, he had you.  And when you both returned to your room, you had a movie night of your own with popcorn, cuddles, and the pizza Bucky had gifted you.  One that ended in you drifting off in Bucky’s arms with his fingers running gently through your hair, and for the first time in a very long time, James Buchanan Barnes felt safe.  He felt like he was home.

Originally posted by imsebastianstans

TAGS

@mizzzpink , @emmaplum , @jarnesbrnes , @winter-in-wakanda , @milaaurora,@unidentifiedanonfics , @sebbytrash , @totheendofthelinepal  @dreamyhopes,@im-a-screwedup-mess, @awkwardsituation101, @microscopicmonsters, @to-be-a-sunshine, @ineedjamesbuckybarnes, @ageekybookworm,@sassycat15,@shamvictoria11, @winter-childrens, @gwilson937,@itsbriannahope4,@calliope95, @hannahbugloves1d, @manateeheart,@onemorebandgurl ,@themightycrybaby, @http-bandsexual,@whenlucasmetmaya,@sergeantjamesbarnes107th, @vampirekissesluv1,@mickeyl322,@sammie-sensenstein, @buffalolittlebill, @crazychick010,@wildwiccankitty, @lovemarvel-trash, @maximoffskwad10-31-15,@subtletynotwithstanding, @camila1818,@panickingwiththefalloutboys,@knittingknerdy, @sher-lokid @spyderlings, @itsanotherstarwars-avengersblog ,@blindeyes-openhearts , @dokuroskull23 , @bovaria, @waandaamaximoff,@everyavengersimagine, @supersoldier-buckybarnes, @thewinterher0,@thiddlestoff, @heyitsmarian, @stuckyhelpsmethroughlife, @jamesbarncs,@gucci—garbage, @buckysbackpackbuckle, @221bshrlocked

Thank you!

Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged my lasted fic, Nesting!! I love you all!

@littlegreenplasticsoldier said:

*slams desk* YES FUCJ YES THIS EVERY WORD THIS HOT DAMN MICHELLE YOU GOT ANY MORE O THAT SHIT WOMAN? HOLY YES Tagging @you

Good Lord, woman, I love you!

@seenashwrite said:

RE: “… and purchases made at Bed, Bath, & Beyond without a 20% off coupon.”  Now, are you *trying* to lose readers? sweet lord, what were you thinking??? ;)

Well, you know, writing is all about taking risks. LOL!

@scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala said:

I. NEED. A. FREAKING. MINUTE. AFTER. THAT. My brain’s still processing. Angry sex AND dry humping??!! Damn, did you sneak into my wildest dreams??

I’m not usually into angry sex, but I’ve been eye fucking my husband quite hatefully the past few days. He’s sensitive, though, so I decided to take it out on Dean, instead. Dry humping is my favorite kink, though. It seeps into a lot of my fics. *sigh*

@klaineaholic said:

I don’t know why this spoke to me but yes. I am here for this!!!!! Also in fucking love with this spunky reader who doesn’t take shit from Dean.

Spunky Reader for the win!!! Thanks, my dear!

@winchesterprincessbride said:

Those shorts should be illegal!

No no no no no. Don’t make them illegal, then we’ll see them even less than we already do!!! MAKE THEM MANDATORY!!!

Keep reading

Thing 2 may like the new house even more than we do, he had breakfast on the deck and is now playing in the back yard with the (very very happy) dog

We can’t find the dog food tho? We think maybe the movers missed a cabinet.

So, dog food hunt this morning.

Also finding the directions for the thermostat, because the a/c went way colder overnight than seems necessary. Or that I want to pay for on a regular basis.

ALSO SO MANY BOXES HLEP

(it doesn’t help that they’re mostly all just labelled with a room and not the contents)

Or that the husband is just unpacking wherever to get stuff out which means I’m basically going to have to unpack twice? Ah well. Finding things is legit more important at this point.

Anyways! I have a really nice house and lots of boxes!

Originally posted by bobbytrash

You know what they say when they tell you to be careful what you wish for because just a month ago you couldn’t stop talking about wanting to get on an episode of running man after watching that one exciting episode and here you were, on a Halloween special. Of all specials. Because really, you didn’t have to come on the show often to know that your weak heart wouldn’t be able to handle half the horror that you were in for this filming session.


“So Bobby! Are you going to go alone or pick a partner?” Jaesuk asked.


The group of you left to challenge the haunted house were odd numbered and with the maximum entry being in pairs, there had to be someone that had to take up the challenge alone.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

MIKOYCHIYOMIKOCHIYOMIKOCHIYO!!!!AHHHHH!!!!! (more headcanons if you have the time???)

ANON YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE ANON. pls let me love you. and okay here are a few more. they’re mostly domestic, so:

  • mikorin is a cover hog to the EXTREME but sakura does NOT PUT UP WITH THAT AT ALL. even though she’s not really a cover hog at all she just gets really cold at night. so basically to combat mikorin’s cover hogging she ends up just crawling on top of him in his sleep. he’s SO EMBARRASSED about this at first but then he gets used to the feeling of her face in his neck and her breathing on him. 
  • sakura can cook simple dishes that her mom taught her, like curry and eggs and fish, so they eat pretty well. and she can bake some (mostly stuff for valentine’s day) and that’s okay too. but mikorin takes some sort of chemistry/baking class in college and learns how to bake PHENOMENALLY and it’s amazing and he’s got such a flair for it, his cake decorating looks professional. he can’t cook regular food though. 
  • mikorin has more beauty products in the medicine cabinet than sakura does. she’s honestly impressed. 
  • christmas is a pretty big thing for both of them. even when they’ve been dating for a while mikorin gets weird/embarrassed about gifts but he makes SUCH a big deal out of finding the Right One. in comparison, sakura’s pretty chill about getting mikorin something because she can just get him anime merchandise and he always loves it. 
  • valentine’s day/white day with them is cute but they mostly just bake huge chocolate cakes and then split it together. 
Tagged

tagged by @jacklisowski
Rules: You can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. Put your music on shuffle, list the first ten songs, and tag ten people. 

  1. The Smartphone Hour (Rich Set A Fire)” - Be More Chill 
  2. The Squip Song” - Be More Chill (Gerard Canonico)
  3. Cabinet Battle #2″ - Hamilton (i don’t even listen to hamilton anymore i hate that it keeps coming up)
  4. Wash Away” - Vertical Horizon
  5. Blue Ocean” - Flying Colors
  6. Love Goes On” - Duo (Richard Marx and Matt Scannell) Out of all the songs please listen to this I literally converted it to mp3 and uploaded it to google drive because I love this song so much and I think everyone should listen to it
  7. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” - U2
  8. Comfortably Numb” - Pink Floyd
  9. Tango Maureen” - Rent (the live 2008 recording)
  10. I Love Play Rehearsal” - Be More Chill (Stephanie Hsu)

@magnus-rushesin @bisexualgambit @mortal-goddess @bi-hansen @someonesblogger @on-the-elevated-train @beyondthesunrise @cooler-than-a-vintage-cassette @a-heart-full-of-javert @distressingdamsel

Oneshot teaser (because I felt like it) - hope you guys enjoy! Though since I started this blog like, what, 6min ago? I don't know if anyone'll see it... Hey, can't say I didn't try, right?

With nothing to prepare before his shift officially started, Marco found himself pointlessly organizing documents he hadn’t yet had a chance to look over. He hadn’t been in his office for more than an hour when he heard a knock at the door. Stiffening at the sound, he pulled his mouth taut and adjusted his reading glasses, straightening to give the illusion of confidence. Here we go. He took a deep breath.

“Come in.”

The knob turned and door creaked open—offhandedly he made a mental note to have someone oil the hinges—and in walked his first “client.” He was a tall, toned man—no, boy, as he looked like he was fresh out of high school. With dark eyes and dark hair, boyish freckles dotting his cheeks, he grinned. The air around him seemed electrified, coming to life as their eyes met. As those gray orbs bore into his, Marco started to wonder if he’d ever truly looked someone in the eyes before. He didn’t indulge in short glimpses away like most people did, leaving nothing to lessen the intensity of his stare. It was unrelenting, no attempts made to soften its force.

The inmate didn’t wait for introductions, that sloppy grin widening as he stepped further into the room. “Hey, Doc,” he greeted casually, “how’s it going?”

Marco could tell he didn’t want an answer and remained silent, retaining his usual bored expression as he listened.

“Look, I’ve got a problem. I need your help. I’d really like to talk to you about this.”

The blond’s ears perked up at this and he leaned forward, ready to begin work as a genuine psychologist. He felt his old passion flare up again with anticipation. “Go on.”

In response to the command, the boy pulled a knife from beneath his clothes, waving it in front of the psychologist’s face amusedly, maintaining that eerie smile and merciless eye contact. Marco didn’t move, his eyes remaining half-lidded even as the weapon was teasingly pointed his way. For just a split second he caught the youth glance away, eyeing the part of the desk where the emergency call button was hidden.

He was testing him.

Determining Marco wasn’t going to press the button, the youth lowered the weapon to his side, returning his gaze to the blond’s face. “This isn’t meant for you,” he assured, dropping into a chair across from his new psychologist.

Internally the blond was relieved, but it didn’t show on his face. He leaned forward to show his interest once more, the fingers of his hands intertwined on the surface of his desk. “Then who is it for yoi?”

The boy’s face seemed to darken, his smirk taking a sinister twist. He lifted one of his ankles to rest on his opposing knee, leaning back in a relaxed manner. “One of the other inmates has been eyeing my protégé. He’s making a pass for him and I don’t like that.”

As Marco listened, the first question that rose up from his mind was ‘why is he telling me this?’ Something wasn’t right about the whole thing—where had he gotten the knife in the first place?—but he didn’t have time to wonder about that, now faced with his first task as the prison’s only psychologist. First he had to get the weapon away from him but that kid was smart; he couldn’t do it in a way that made him think Marco was scared or nervous.

So, what do psychologists do best? They fish for information.

“Tell me about him.”

The inmate glanced at his weapon, looking at the sheen of the blade. “My protégé or the guy who’s pissing me off?” he questioned, voice remaining even and carefree.

“Whichever you prefer,” the blond replied, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt anxiously beneath the desk. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He just wanted to make sure that first task went off without a hitch. Something told him that kid wasn’t going to make it easy.

Moving the knife around, watching the glint of the overhead lights reflect off it, he thought. Then again those piercing eyes stared into the blue of the elder’s, the cockiness in his grin returning stronger than before. “Lu’s been with me since I first got here a few months ago,” he explained. “He’s in for some minor shit—didn’t bother with the details.” Minor ‘shit’ didn’t land you in a maximum security prison.

Marco got up, heading to the filing cabinet as he continued to listen, hoping he could find the boy’s record. He opened the first drawer, spotting the labelled dividers. Apparently whoever held that position last was organized. He was thankful for that.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the inmate provided without being asked, “third drawer.”

While a little unnerved that he knew where his file was located, Marco ignored the questions buzzing at the front of his mind and went to the third drawer, sifting through the papers.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Parallels (Either Gravity Falls or Steven Universe)

Dipper sat up in bed and felt the world spin just a bit too far. He set a hand against his temple, blinking through the dense blackness in the attic. Trickles of soft moonlight bled through the far window, but otherwise he was completely blind. He shifted his hand to his forehead and felt too much heat leaking from his skin.

“Mabel?” he whispered. The twisted bundle of sheets across the room rustled. His sister’s head bobbed up, hazy blinking eyes finding him.

“Dip?”

Mabel normally slept like a rock, but his voice never failed to stir her.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He slipped his feet out onto the cold hardwood, arms fanning out in search of purchase. He took careful, explorative steps toward the light switch and flicked it on. Mabel’s squinted eyes blinked rapidly in response.

“….W’time’sit?” Mabel asked.

“1 am,” Dipper answered as he made his way to her bed with more confidence. He eased himself up onto her covers. As if by instinct, Mabel scooched to her left to make room. Her eyes were wider now, more awake, and they scanned him up and down.

“What’s up?” Her tone was light but guarded, quiet enough to keep from waking Stan one floor below.

Dipper responded by hiking his sleeve up above his left shoulder.

“When Bill had my body, he was doing all kinds of just…things with it. He slammed my arm in the silverware drawer and got—it was a couple of forks—some forks ended up stuck into my arm.” With his free hand, he gestured to a row of four, faded pink marks. “This one’s healing just fine.” He twisted his arm up at the elbow. “But something’s wrong with this one.”

Keep reading

I’m moving to a new loft. Yay!

I am a hoarder of fine things. Boo!

Guys, I have so much dope shit that I don’t use and that I cannot justify dragging to a new apartment with me. I’m fucking 30. I can’t keep toting around stuff I don’t wear or use because I feel safe with stuff around me because GAWDKNOWSWHAT happened to me as a child.

In the process of going through one of my closets I found a designer bag with the tags still on it that was like $300. It had like, the stuffin’ in it and the tags on it and I was like, “Molly, you need to not have this and you need to give it to the world. But not Goodwill. We’re not that saintly around here. This thing has fucking tags on it.”

So I’m selling a bunch of stuff on eBay. The page will be updated pretty frequently over the next few days and there’s TONS of stuff going up (not just clothes– I bought ALL OF THE STUFF and HID IT IN CABINETS because I’M LINDSAY LOHAN.)

Part of me is like, “Is it embarrassing to sell your stuff on eBay?” and then part of me is like, “Even Kim Kardashian sold her stuff on eBay until like two years ago,” and then part of me is like, “Why do you always wind up using the Kardashians as an example when you’re trying to make something okay?”

So check in on this page. Reblog to your friends. Deals all around. We all look fabulous. I can fit all of my things in my new place. My dog doesn’t have to sleep in a purse. Goodnight, America.

[Update: Apparently Khloe still sells stuff on eBay.]

One of my very favorite parts of my home is the butlers pantry! I love how the blue cabinets turned out and don’t even get me started on that gorgeous artwork! 😍🙌🏻 Don’t forget to enter the giveaway with @alicelanehome 💗

Win $1,000 to Alice Lane Home online, to enter you must:

1. Follow @emilyijackson and @alicelanehome on Instagram

2. Tag 3 friends on my instagram and Alice Lane’s

3. Sign up for Alice Lane Home’s newsletter (on website homepage)

4. Comment on my blog (theivorylane.com) on what you would want to win from Alice Lane online. by emilyijackson

3

I’ve been on a year long quest for the perfect practice amp and then today I found this 1950s (51?) National/Valco 2x8 combo and it is absolutely glorious.
Quite possibly original RCA glass throughout.
The cabinet is probably somewhat oversized for its two Jensen 8s but it sounds absolutely perfect.
Big low end and crystal clear treble even at the lowest volume.
It handles a baritone better than any combo I’ve encountered big or small.
The “microphone” input with just a lone volume control is quite a bit hotter than the instrument input and has a great balanced tone with some good mid range bite. Doesn’t need a tone stack at all.
And then I found the “master gain” control in the back with its original hang tag! It was set all the way down but now it’s too late to try cranking it. I’m really hoping for some Neil Young deluxe style dirt….
Oh ya. It was one hundo dollars.

Harry Styles Curtains.

I have only been in this fandom and a full on Larrie (honestly I still can’t quite figure out how I even got here) for a few months and everything that has happened is so bizarre I can’t even wrap my mind around it.  And while I don’t quite understand the who/whats/whys, the thing that keeps pulling me in is the way those two sweet boys look at each other (and the tattoos) (and the bears) (and they are so pretty).  I am a fairly logical person and a highly sensitive virgo and I feel like I can figure out what is real(ish)/fake/fan freakout almost immediately.  

That being said this whole hacking situation is awful.  I am proud of my following instincts, as I have not seen one picture from the hack on my dash.  I will admit that at first I was curious and searched around to see what everyone was talking about.  The pictures where mostly cute and I liked seeing Harry in a sailor hat, but just looking at them made me itchy and I felt quite gross (even though I do believe we were meant to see them).

As cringey as it made me feel to seek out those pictures I must admit I have gone back to a few of them more than once today, because you guys…

Harry Styles palm printed curtains and roman shade are so beautiful.  Paired with the marble counter top and white cabinets and carrara tile floors like it’s some kind of dream.  Then there is the dip dyed neon green persian rug nestled under that tufted navy velvet sofa.  It is so vibey and so what I imagined his and Louis’ decorating style would be like.

I have no followers and I going to attempt to tag a few people that I (hopefully) think will appreciate that even though it feels wrong seeing inside his home this way, it also feels so right to know that Harry and Louis lounge around in that pretty house.

This is so not something I ever thought I would be doing at 28 years old, but   c’est la vie.

-Jess

@aaronbutterfield @greenylovesbluey @lads-laddylads @larryappreciation @saracha33 @bethaboolou @bromanceshmomance