yoga in the bathroom

Tender Touches

Anonymous asked: bucky sees the reader doing yoga and has to go relieve himself??

A/N: Naughty naughty naughty

Warnings: Like… this is just pure smut. From start to finish, really. Hope you enjoy

Originally posted by marvxl-trash

Bucky Barnes liked you. A lot. It wasn’t just about your personality or your charm, though those were great traits you had, but he certainly didn’t mind looking at you. Ever since you showed up at the tower he has had a thing for you, and it started to get really bad one morning when he saw you bending down as you did yoga. 

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50 Things To Do Between Your Study Sessions

1. Go for a walk
2. Get some snacks
3. Do some cleaning
4. Text someone you haven’t talked to in a long time
5. Call your parents/siblings
6. Get a coffee/tea
7. Read/watch news
8. Short dancing session
9. Draw random sketches
10. Work in your bullet journal
11. Plan out the next meal
12. Do yoga
13. Go to the bathroom
14. Watch one episode of your favorite TV show
15. Take a 20 minutes nap
16. Plan out the next day
17. Call a friend
18. Stretch a little
19. Go on tumblr
20. Watch YouTube videos
21. Make some funny snapchat pics and send it to your friends
22. Read some quotes
23. Write a blog post
24. Go grocary shopping
25. Water your plants
26. Write down 10 positive facts about you
27. Reflect on your week
28. “I’m grateful for…”
29. Post an instagram picture
30. Clean up your desk
31. Write a letter to a friend/family
32. Listen to audiobooks
33. Cook something delicious
34. Play a game
35. Make a new profile picture
36. Set the alarm for the next day
37. Fill out your habit tracker
38. Make a smoothy
39. Write a short story
40. Go jogging
41. Catch uo with your favorite blogs
42. Fine an outfit for the next day
43. Take a shower
44. Read
45. Look over old letters or photos
46. Reorganize you supplies
47. Make some new room decoration
48. Listen to music
49. Sing
50. Lay on your bed and daydream

Beneath The Surface

Originally posted by morekpopmore


(Chaper One)

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Word Count: 2,253

Genre & Warnings: Not gonna lie, this chapter is pretty much just smut, even though I still don’t think I’m that good at writing it. And there’s some fluff. Next chapter is a ticket to angstville, so enjoy.

Note: I am pretty convinced that sex with Hobi would be loud as hell, and I love it. So I wrote a lot about that. Sorry not sorry. 

You made your way up the steps to your apartment, Hobi so close behind that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. You couldn’t recall ever being this nervous to bring a guy home before. You didn’t know if it was just because he was an idol, or if it was because he was Jung Hoseok. Either way, you could feel yourself getting more and more anxious the closer you got to your place. As you reached the door, your hand shook a little as you tried to put your keys in the lock, and you ended up dropping them a couple times before you were finally successful. You swing open the door and drop to the floor to greet your Pomeranian, Momo. You can hear Hobi close and lock the door behind you, and you bury your nose into Momo’s fur, trying to calm your racing heart. Hobi drops down next to you, and pats Momo’s head, and you both share a nervous grin.

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Lunchtime Drabble: Training the Inhuman (2/?)

Pairing: Avengers x Reader for now. Relationships develop as I go.
Word Count: 1058 (a little long today)
Warnings: short reader, fluff, fighting, a little angst.

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

Y/N found Bruce in his lab, head bent over a computer monitor in deep concentration.

“Hey, Dr. Banner,” she said softly, not wanting to jar him out of his thoughts. It didn’t work, he still jumped.

“Oh, Y/N, hey, what can I do for you?” he adjusted his glasses as he looked up and gave her a small smile.

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Daughter (Sherlock x Reader Imagine)

Title: Daughter

Pairing: Sherlock x Daughter!reader

Characters: Sherlock, John, Reader, Mary

Word Count: 1,554

Request: Hi I was wondering if I can request an imagine wherein reader is Sherlock’s daughter. Sherlock’s love interest died because of Moriarty and Sherlock’s too broken to take care of his daughter that John and Mary became her parents. Ending is reader has the deduction skills and deduced that Sherlock is her biological father??? If it’s not too much to ask. Thank you! Xx ~ Anonymous

A/N: First Requested Imagine Yay!! Feel free to request more! Preferably Sherlock but I might be able to branch out! Enjoy! Requests are OPEN, feel free to leave a request in my ask box or message me!


You had been born to loving parents who couldn’t financially provide for you. Your father had died at war, and your mother soon after. At least that was what you had been told, and you had questioned it every day of your life.

After you were born, you were raised by John and Mary Watson. While you loved them and they treated you as one of their own, you still felt like an outcast. You were the black sheep, the brunette in a house full of blondes.

Not only were you physically an outcast, but academically you thrived at a rate not seen before. You kept yourself busy, reading, exploring new sciences, but there was always one question eating away in the back of your mind… What happened to my parents?

John and Mary have always been suspiciously quiet about your parents, to the point where you had given up asking about them. You knew they were lying– the side glances, the nervous blinking, the sigh of relief when you left the room– but you needed to find the truth on your own.

One afternoon you hit your breaking point. After three hours of delving into hacked private records, you had found nothing. Nothing. Nothing to the point where it was suspicious. Even your birth certificate had been redacted. What kind of normal 18 year old has their birth certificate redacted by the government. Conclusion: You weren’t normal. Your parents, or at least one, was more important than John and Mary seem to let on. And at least one of them was alive. If they were dead there would be no reason to protect their identity by redacting it. There was also a chance that you had known them your whole life– someone important enough to redact would want to keep an eye on their child.

Three firewalls later MI5’s archives still came up empty. You were going to have to run your own experiment in finding your birth parents.

First: Woman or Male? Which one is still alive? A woman would be less willing to leave her child if she had lost her husband. They’re stronger that way, they want to hold onto that last piece of him. But if the woman had died, the father could have been more likely to give the child up to a trustworthy friend. Especially if their job was important or dangerous, they couldn’t possibly raise a child without a mother. Conclusion: Mother died, it was too much for the father to take, and you were placed in the hand of a friend.

Luckily for you, your parents didn’t have that many friends. And ones with important dangerous jobs narrowed down the list a little more too. First there was Lestrade, but his wife is still alive, though they’re going through a divorce so we can rule him out. There was Mike Stamford, though you didn’t consider a medical trainer a dangerous job. Mycroft? Talk about important there, but also very likely that he has ever had a romantic relationship of any kind. That left Sherlock. His job was dangerous, but you had many doubts about his romantic capabilities as well. As long as you had known him he had been cold and calculating… was this the effect of a lost love? You were going to need more evidence to come to a final conclusion.

You sat at the breakfast table with your dad, well, John. Mary was already at work and it was summer so you didn’t have school. Needless to say you were extremely bored and no number of books in the world could entertain you. John was reading the paper while you picked at your food.

“Did you read about this yoga teacher found dead in his bathroom, doors locked, candles lit, but died from–” John began but you cut him off.

“Asphyxiation. I glanced over it, bit obvious isn’t it?” You said casually.

“Obvious?” John lowered the paper.

“It was the flatmate. Read it again.” You instructed.

“Y/N Watson if you’re making this up–” John protested.

“I’m not! I’m just bored! Can we please go do something today, I can’t stay cooped up here all day I might go mad.” You begged desperately.

“We could go visit Mrs. Hudson, you haven’t seen her in a while.” John suggested.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed and rushed upstairs to change, making sure to add a few deductions for Sherlock to complete your plan. You had a hunch, and you just had to follow it.

After the short drive from your house to Baker Street, you slipped upstairs while John was helping Mrs. Hudson with the tea.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, clearly just as bored as you were. He didn’t seem to notice you until you had sat in John’s old chair opposite him. He looked up to you and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“We’re just stopping by, dad will be up soon.” You said, looking for any sign of change is his face when you called John ‘dad’. Nothing.

“I mean after.” He said, spotting your expertly placed deductions for him, falling into your trap.

“Oh, I’ve got a date later if that’s what you mean.” You smiled casually.

“A date?” He asked, raising his voice slightly.

“You know, where two people go out and have fun. I think you’d like him, he rides a motorcycle. Big, probably in a gang, full of sperm.” You said, and Sherlock jumped to his feet, anger in his eyes. As human error at it’s finest.

“What!?” He yelled.

“Jesus, I’m kidding, calm down, we’re just meeting mum for dinner later.” You laughed, and he sat back down looking you over curiously. He seemed to stare for ages, before your voice filled the silence.

“In a universal time of deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” You spoke.

“Sorry?” He asked confused.

“I don’t trust words, I even question actions. But I never doubt patterns.” You said and Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

“And what patterns are you speaking of?” He asked curiously.

“You.” You stated.

“Me?” He asked, sitting up in his chair.

“Yes, you. Ever since I can remember, every time our eyes meet, you look away. Like it’s too painful for you. It’s the one thing I can rely on every time I see you. But why would your best friends kid be painful to you? Another pattern, which I’m sure John chooses to ignore, is the fact that you’re always high on my birthday. I’m surprised you show up to the parties at all. See, I’ve been doing a bit of research, most of it inconclusive, hacking into MI5 just isn’t as fun as it used to be.” You began.

“Y/N…” Sherlock said.

“If my whole life has been a lie, I need you to tell the truth right now. Sherlock Holmes, are you my father?” You asked, a tear slid down your cheek and his eyes grew wide. Your head turned sharply when you heard a teacup shattering on the floor in the doorway. John stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“How long have you known?” Sherlock asked, not denying your question.

“I think part of me has always known, and I’ve pushed the thought away out of fear. Not the fear that it was true, but fearful of finally knowing why. Why you gave me up? How my mother died, assuming she is dead.” You said.

“Y/N, this really isn’t the time–” John began.

“It’s exactly the time! I deserve to know! I’m 18 for god sakes!” You yelled, standing to face John. You were angry, you hoped you had been wrong, that John and Mary were telling the truth and that maybe you just had an overactive imagination.

You felt a hand grab your own, and you turned to see Sherlock reaching out to you.

“Don’t take it out on him. This was my doing not his.” Sherlock said, sadness in his eyes. “You want the truth?”

“Yes.” You pleaded.

“I loved your mother, and when we had you everything seemed to be fitting into place. I never thought I could have a normal life, and I was right. Have you heard of a man named James Moriarty?” He asked, you nodded.

“The consulting criminal.” You answered and John looked to you curiously, “I read more than I should.” You answered.

“He killed your mother on your first birthday, and it broke me. I couldn’t raise a baby alone. John helped, then Mary came along and it just got harder and harder for me to see you. I mean, Jesus Y/N you look just like her. I got worse and worse, and no amount of narcotics could numb the pain. You were almost two when John and Mary took you in permanently. I was in no state to raise a child, I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I just wanted you to have a chance!” Sherlock cried and you looked up to him in awe.

You cautiously wrapped your arms around him. He held onto you tighter and continued to apologize.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m here, I’m safe, and I have three great parents.” You smiled, and you knew everything was going to be okay.

genericfandomthing  asked:

Connor Murphy Headcanons???. In freshman year, he had hair that was really long (like mid-back) and Zoe called him a dirty hippie. He wears it in a man bun sometimes. He shaves EVERYTHING (because he can). He has like 13 fidget spinners, all different colors. He uses a fidget cube in class. He was like 5′6 in sophomore year and then he just gREW

Connor Murphy headcanons are always wanted and welcome! And !!!!! THESE ARE GOOD SHIT 

Freshman Connor’s hair was. SO. long. I adore it. He would of kept it that long but it honestly got completely out of control especially since his hair has curl to it and Connor didn’t put enough effort into his hair to keep it from becoming a knotted mess. Larry wanted him to fully cut it, and Connor was ready to grow it even longer. Cynthia had to mediate, and they agreed to cut it a bit below shoulder length. Zoe and Larry still want to cut the rest of it off. 

And the man bun is DEFINITELY a thing and that always makes me happy. I’m convinced he always has two elastics on his wrist, so he has easy access to put his hair up. He puts it up when he’s driving, exercising, or just really trying to focus. 

And him shaving EVERYTHING isn’t something I’ve considered before but I love it??!! I can imagine him just feeling, uncomfortable when he’s not shaved. But because he has really long legs shaving his legs tends to become an event that involves inventing a few new yoga poses. On Connor’s better days you can sometimes find him in the bathroom humming along with some music as he’s bent in half to shave behind the legs. 

So. Many. Fidget. Toys. His favorite spinners are a dark purple one, a black one, and a blue one. And I imagine the fidget cube is black? Just because he’s got to keep up the aesthetic. He really can’t function in class without it because his anxiety is so bad. And part of the reason he has so many fidget toys is they keep getting taken away by teachers, and occasionally another student tries to take it from him.  (connor may have punched the student who tried to take his cube). 

And the last one just is??? So perfect???!!! And makes me really happy honestly omg this is my favorite thing. Sophmore/Freshman Connor is so short, and probably being self conscious about it too. But he just. SHOOTS UP. It’s a total growth spurt that nobody saw coming. Cynthia feels like she’s buying him a new wardrobe every other week. And Connor’s grumpy because god damn it he’s sore from growing pains. But one day he walks into school and realizes he’s looking down on people now and fuck this is great??? He really loves his new height, and everyone else is just shocked by it. 

Here’s my productive summer morning routine for 2017! This is my ideal morning, meaning that not every morning turns out like this. I try to do all of these every day but I’m not perfect, so keep that in mind! 

1. Wake up at around 10 am (I know that’s probably late for a lot of you, but I’m being realistic here lol)- At this point I’ll stay in bed for a little on my phone. I’ve also been trying to do mini guided meditations at this time.

2. Get out of bed- This is when I make my bed, drink some water, and go to the bathroom.

3. Yoga- I do some yoga, stretches, and maybe light exercise because I am veryyyy unfit.

4. Shower- In the shower I might wash my hair depending on how sweaty I got (I usually wash my hair every other day/every two days). I also do my morning skin care routine, and once I’m out of the shower I’ll brush my hair, put coconut oil in it (it makes my hair so soft :3), put on some moisturizer, and brush my teeth. I also put on some comfy clothes that aren’t pajamas to get into the mindset that the day is starting.

5. Breakfast time!- I try to make myself a healthy breakfast every morning. Typical breakfasts for me include healthy french toast with fruits/nuts and agave nectar or maple syrup, or oatmeal with fruits/nuts, and usually a fruit smoothie or coffee to drink. 

6. This is where I start my day!- I then proceed to checking my to do list I made the night before to see what I have to do, which may include studying for the SAT’s on Khan Academy, working on my summer projects, working on my blog, volunteering, practicing the baritone, or going out if I made plans. 

That’s it! Sorry this is so detailed… Let me know if there are any other practices I should add to my routine, and if you want me to post my summer night routine! Thank youuu :)

Once a Frat Boy, Always a Frat Boy. | Calum Hood - Part 8.

Summary: In which a new student, (Y/N), finds herself becoming the toy to popular frat boy Calum Hood. The only problem is that (Y/N) was warned about Calum her first day on campus, and Calum just so happens to be dating (Y/N)’s best friend, Callie Mitchell. She hates him. She hates him more than she’s hated anyone ever before; however, she can’t help the growing feeling inside of her stomach after she finds out some very interesting things about Calum that no one had ever known before.

Rating: PG

Pairing: Calum/Reader (bonding?)

Requested?: Yes. :’)

A/N: This is more like a filler chapter. The next one will be better, I promise! Please keep reading, this series is close to half way over. :(

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Press snooze eight times. Smoke in the shower. Shave one leg, forget the other. Throw hair in a messy bun. Fuck it. Don’t really want to wear makeup, but also don’t really want to look ill. Read today’s horoscope. Try to call yourself out of school. It works sometimes, but not this time. The football coach with grey hair and a dome belly who the kids call Jerry Sandusky and the adults call Lonely calls you Miss Lipstick in the hallway. Bite your tongue all day. Nail biters put special lemon juice on their nails to keep from chewing. Wonder if this can be done to the roof of an unruly mouth. When you were little, you were a brave girl, a fearless firecracker.

This year, you were nominated “Most Changed from Elementary School.”


When your mother kisses you on the scalp, let her. Let your father hug you, hard. Not like cradling an eggshell. Not anymore. Clean your bedroom. Hang art on the walls. Donate the dress you wore that night. Delete the text messages. Look people in the eyes again. Burn your to-do lists. Stop finding flashbacks in the coat closet, the car, your purse. Buy a new purse. Take piano lessons. Practice. Write songs. Write about something other than him, what he did, or the ash preceding the lava. Focus on what matters. Apply to college. Healing looks less like Chicago, more like Minnesota. Less like poker, more like poetry. On Valentine’s Day, make cards for the old folks home and buy flowers for your mother. Drink pitchers of glitter. Stop skipping yoga class. Reconnect. Scrawl your teachers blessing on the bathroom mirror-

“Namaste: The light in me honors the light in you.

—  “EVOLUTION OF HEALING” by Blythe Baird

anonymous asked:

Stooooppp harry making his little to do list 💀💀💀

7AM: wake up :-)
8AM: breakfast finished
9AM: run time. 
10AM: play with myself
1PM: lunch
2PM: call mum, gem, rob, dad
3PM: moisturize 
4PM: yoga
5PM: bathroom 
6PM: dinner w/ tessa, check food to make sure it isnt undercooked. 
7PM: rom-com, something with anne hathaway
8PM: doooooooooodles
11PM: sleep

The Morning After

“Let’s go home,” she whispered softly as they walked out of the archives. She was lightly rubbing his back with her right hand and holding his left hand in hers, helping him remain stable as he walked.

“Thank you for your assistance, lieutenant. Although, I feel it is you who should be leaning on me for strength after your ordeal.”

“Oh, I will, Crane. You can count on it. But for right now, you need to get your bearings. My adrenaline will keep me going until we get to the house.”

“At least allow me to drive,” he said as he took the keys from his coat pocket.

She swiped them playfully from his hand. “Not a chance.“


They didn’t say much along the way, both satisfied with softly touching each other’s hands on the center console between turns. This is real. We are here. By the time they arrived at the house, her body was beginning to feel the need for the things it had been lacking for the past ten months. Food. Drink. Sleep. A shower. She was beginning to feel weak and achy. This time, Ichabod assisted her in the walk up the front steps and opened the door for her. He guided her to the sofa and sat next to her. She immediately rested her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her. Silence. Sweet, comfortable, reassuring silence. This was truly home. Here. Together.

“Abbie,“ he whispered after a while. “What do you need? Shall I get you some water?”

“Yes, thank you. And maybe something to eat? Just something small.”

He rose and began to look around the kitchen.

“Apple slices…,” he announced as he took a ripe red fruit from the bowl on the counter, “and…" He searched in the kitchen cabinets. “Crackers.“ 

“Perfect.” She smiled. “Know what though, Crane? I really think I need a hot shower first.”

“Of course. Your sustenance shall be ready for you when you return.”


Abbie closed the bathroom door. She turned on the water. She felt the steam dampen her skin. She breathed it in. She took off her clothes and stepped in. Ten months. Ten months of isolation, fear, desperation all washing away. She cried. She cried out of sadness, anger, relief. And she cried because of Ichabod Crane. That strange man who showed up as a suspect at the precinct so long ago was now the most important person in the entire world to her. And the fact that she was here with him now was all she needed to feel whole.


He arranged the apple slices on a plate with some crackers, and a few pieces of sharp cheddar cheese. She needs protein. He brought the plate and a glass of water into the living room and set them on the coffee table. He sat. He looked at the food, the water, her shoes where she had kicked them off near the door. He heard the water turn on. She was truly here. She was home. With him. And he never wanted her to be anywhere else again.


She came out of the bathroom in a gray T-shirt, black yoga pants, and a thin, dark green zip-up hoodie, and fuzzy socks. His eyes widened as he smiled sweetly.

“You look rejuvenated, Lieutenant.”

“I am feeling a bit more like myself,” she smiled.

She sat next to him and curled her legs under her as he handed her the plate. They sat in silence as she ate a bit of everything he had prepared for her. After her third piece of apple, she set the plate down.

“Guess I have to start slowly with that. Stomach’s waving the white flag already. I have a feeling sleep will be much easier to readjust to.”

Ichabod immediately stood and helped her rise from the couch. He kept her hand in his as he began to walk her to her room.

“I could use more water, though.”

“Of course. You go ahead and I shall-”

“I’ll wait here for you.”

She squeezed his hand.

He smiled and nodded before quickly filling her glass. She put her arm in his as he walked her to her bed. He set the water on her nightstand and stood behind her, helping to remove her hoodie. She sat on the bed and tried to take off her socks, but her muscles were getting sore and she was having some trouble bending.

“Allow me. Please.”

Crane crouched down in front of her and took one petite foot in his hands. One hand slid gently up her calf and slipped the sock off. He softly caressed her foot for just a moment, then did the same with the other.

She slid back, slipped her legs under the covers and rested her head on the pillow. Crane covered her with the sheet.

“Blanket?” he offered.

“Nah, not right now. This is good. Thanks.”

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

As he turned toward the door, she stopped him.

“Stay with me, Crane.”

He turned to her, not saying a word, walked to the bed and sat beside her.

”I just, I’ve been alone-“

“Say no more.”

He took his boots off and she pulled the sheet back for him. He lay beside her and enveloped her in his long, sturdy arms. She rested her head on his chest and they both drifted off to peaceful sleep.


Abbie awoke to the sun streaking into her bedroom. She slowly opened her eyes and began to get her bearings. Where am I? She looked around. She was home. In her bed. Safe. And…not alone. She was lying on her side and felt a rustle in the sheets behind her. As she tried to turn, she realized Crane’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her. She wriggled around to face him, and just looked at his peaceful face for what was probably minutes, but it felt like hours. Eventually he began to stir and his eyes flitted open.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

She said nothing, but tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“You…you stayed here all night.”

“Of course.” He smiled slightly. “Had you awoken in the night and I was not here, I thought perhaps you would have become frightened or disoriented. And..”

“And what?”

“Had I awoken in the night in my bed, I surely would have found myself returning to your side.” He touched her cheek lightly with his fingertips. "To make sure you were indeed here.“

The tears that had started to well began to streak down the side of her face as she looked into his eyes. Their faces moved closer and she touched her lips to his soft beard. Their mouths met. They kissed tentatively at first, with a hint of apprehension at taking this step. Quickly, though, their lips and tongues fell into an exquisite rhythm and they were completely consumed by the release of feelings too long held inside.



He pulled back slightly.

“Ichabod? Well, that’s new.”

Abbie bit her lower lip for a moment and whispered, “Yeah, well, it feels a little strange calling the man I love by his last name.”

He smiled and brought his lips to hers again.

“I love you, Abbie.”

Cohabitation 2

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

YutaxReader (mostly fluff, like I swear I really tried this time)

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing

Word count: just over 1k

This is a continuation of an earlier drabble I wrote, I decided to write a second one since someone requested and a lot of you seemed to like the first one (also bc I’m Yuta trash but we can sweep that under the rug xP) 

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Welcome to the Cabin: Josh Washington x Reader

Josh let out an excited sigh as you emerged from the bathroom, hair wet, in a pair of yoga shorts and a sports bra.

“Where’s the rest of that?” He asked as you shook your wet hair back, behind your shoulders, and crawled over his side of the bed.

“Why?” You asked as you covered your stomach to hide the scar vertical to your abdomen, “Is it off-putting?”

He leaned up from bed and smiled, “No, it’s hot. Almost…drool-worthy.” You smile and scoffed, “Stop it, the guys can probably hear you.”

Josh grabbed at your waist and rubbed his face against your stomach, “So let them.”

You and Josh invited all of his friends up to his parent’s winter cabin. You’d never met any of them before and, as the obvious outsider, you resided upstairs rather than get acquainted. Sure, it was bratty thing to do but since Josh had never told any of his friends about you. Since the bath, all they heard was your relationship echoing through the vast cabin. So now, all there was left was the actual deed.

Josh ran his fingers over the vertical scar on your side and kissed it, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and sat you down on the bed.

               He ran his fingers through your hair and brought you into kiss.

“Hey guys!” Sam yelled from the staircase, “We were gonna make some popcorn and watch another movie. Do you want to join?”

You rolled your eyes then glared at Josh, “Your other girlfriend wants to spend time with you.”

“Well I want to spend time with this one.” Josh whispered as his lips turned up into a smile.

“Nice save.” You whispered as you planted your lips to Josh’s neck and took a nibble at his smooth, tan skin.

He gripped at your thighs as you made your mark on his neck, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m marking my territory.” You whispered as you took a lick up to his ear.

“Noted.” He smiled as he rolled you over onto your back.

“Guys?” Sam questioned as she made herway up the staircase.

“Sam, leave ‘em alone, they’re probably in the bone zone.” Chris added in a know-it-all tone.

“Ugh.” You groaned as you sat up slowly, “Do your friends ever stop cockblocking?”

“Only if they know that they can’t stop me.” Josh smirked as he managed to pull his boxers down to his knees, “They can’t stop me, those goddamn shorts already have me wanting seconds.”

You gasped in excitement, “Is it my birthday? I’m getting spoiled.”

“Mhmm.” He leaned in and locked lips with you as he worked you out of your shorts.

*I might make this a full thing since there’s some things that aren’t cleared up but I’ll figure it out*