#and tell her I think I’m having an allergic reaction

[bitchapalooza]

The 18th should come quicker so I can be less scared to have orange stuff because idk if the popsicle brand popsicles use food coloring or it’s actually real oranges so—

[miley1442111]

saving me- s.reid

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a/n: fem reader, but as always imagine what you like :)

summary: spencer has to save you before it's too late.

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: general cm topics, sexual assault, hostage situation, drugging, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, reader is allergic to opioids, drugs, alergic reaction, knives, guns, reader begs to be killed, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))

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Another migraine. Another fucking migraine. 

Your life was truly a joke. 

You sat beside Emily in the car, eyes heavy with pain as you profusely rubbed them, the sunlight from the sky beside you far too bright. 

“Y/l/n? Any ideas?” Morgan asked, kicking you softly under the table.

“The unsub will probably be extremely interested in the investigation but they probably won’t bring themselves into it. We’ll end up seeking them out,” you rattled off. 

“Are you alright?” Prentiss whispered. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just tired eyes.” 

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Spencer’s eyes were on you from the second you’d spoken about your ‘tired eyes’. He was meant to be working up a geological profile, but his focus was completely on you. ‘Tired eyes’, you’d been wearing glasses or contacts all week, you’d been drinking enough liquids, you’d been eating, he assumed you’d slept, you'd been busy most of the week and sleeping at your own apartment instead of his. 

What could cause ‘tired eyes’?

“Reid!” Seaver all but shouted in his ear. 

“Y-yeah? Yes?” He answered, eyes focusing on the map again. 

“Is Y/l/n here?” Rossi asked. 

“W-what? No. I thought she went with Hotch and Prentiss,” he hesitated. 

“She told them she was with us,” Rossi sighed. “So then where is she?”

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “I’ll call her.”

Rossi held up your cell phone and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“Shit is right,” Rossi nodded. 

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It had been 24 hours, you were officially a missing person. You had no idea where you were, someone must’ve drugged you. That hadn’t been a regular migraine. Your head thumped with pain as you struggled against the duct tape around your hands and feet. 

“You’re one beautiful girl, aren’t you?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way he was watching you. 

You tried to scream but the duct tape around your mouth made it difficult.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he came closer, into the light. You could see his face. He was a white male, between the ages of 35-40, dad-build, and a sick smirk. 

You didn’t fight back, you couldn’t. You didn’t even notice the camera in the corner. You didn’t know that this was being recorded, or live-streamed directly to Penelope. Penelope, who showed it to the team. To your boyfriend. 

They were watching the worst moment of your life unfold. 

And you had no idea. 

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“Guys,” Penelope squeaked. “This j-just came through,” she showed them her laptop and looked away, tears clouding her vision. 

“Is that-” Derek started

“Y/n,” Aaron finished for him. 

“What about her? Did you find her?” Spencer asked, staring at the group from behind Penelope. “Is she ok?”

The team’s eyes were glued to the screen as Spencer stood there, demanding an answer. 

“Guys what?!” he shouted. “Someone answer me!”

“Come here,” Seaver sighed. Spencer stood beside her and watched in horror as the unsub hurt you. 

“We have to find her,” he stated. “Now.”

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“Please, please just kill me,” you begged. He’d taken the tape off a while ago. “Please kill me.”

“I’m not a necrophiliac,” he laughed in your face. “I like my girls alive.”

“Fuck you,” you sobbed. Blood, dirt, tears, and sweat coating your skin. “Fuck you!”

“I’m actively trying to fuck you,” he laughed again. You hated him. You hated this. You hated everything.  

“Just kill me,” you sobbed. “Please!”

He hit you on the head and you went out again. 

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“FBI!” Morgan’s voice rang out through the warehouse. Spencer was hot on his heels, walking ahead of him and ignoring proper protocol. “Reid!” He ran after him. 

“FBI! Put the knife down!” Spencer shouted at the unsub holding a knife to your throat. Something had gone wrong. He scanned the room quickly. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- I was just-” The unsub stepped away, dropping the knife. “She wasn’t meant to die.”

Die. Dead. You were dead.

Spencer fired his gun without a second thought. He ran over to you and checked your pulse, there but barely. 

“Hotch I need an ambulance!” He shouted. “Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up,” he begged. “Please, please, wake up, I need you Y/n. Please.” 

“Spencer-” Prentiss started but Spencer silenced her with his own words. 

“We’re dating. We have been for a year and a half, don’t you dare tell me to ‘step away’,” he sighed. 

The paramedics rushed in, starting you on an IV. 

“She’s allergic to opioids,” Spencer rattled off. “She can’t have any opioids.”

“Spencer,” Hotch sighed. “She’s had some already,” Hotch pointed to the vials in the corner of the room and the rusty needle beside them. 

Fuck. 

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“So when were you planning on telling us?” Derek sighed as they all sat in the waiting room.

“I don’t know, soon-maybe?”

“A year and a half is a long time,” Emily smiled. “Congratulations.”

Spencer nodded.

“Dr. Reid?” The nurse asked. Spencer shot up and out of his seat. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Y/l/n is stable but she is severely hurt. Physically and... mentally. She endured hours of sexual assault and her body and mind reflect that. I suggest someone non-threatening to see her first. Maybe a woman?”

Spencer gulped and nodded. “Emily?”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded, walking behind the nurse as he led her to your room.

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You wanted Spencer. You needed him.

Emily walked in and tears filled your eyes. “Where’s Spencer? Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, they just thought that you’d want someone non-threatening to come in and see you first-” Emily explained. 

“Can you go grab Spencer please?” you sniffled. She smiled and nodded, then left the room. 

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“Spencer?” Emily called into the hall. “She wants you.”

Spencer had never walked faster in his life. 

There you were. Bruises and scratches littering your body and face. Your beautiful face. Your beautiful smile and teary eyes.

“Come here, please,” you whispered. Spencer sat at your side, your hand in his. “Thank you.”

He chuckled sadly. “For what?”

“Saving me. All the time,” you smiled softly.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[httpsserene]

Speaking of Mr. Daniel, we all know that he injured himself a while ago. How about the reader faking an orgasm because she doesn’t want to tire or injure him? Daniel frowns immediately upon noticing, but the nurse kicks you out because it’s past hours, and he's longing for the reader. He tries to grab the reader to come back but winces in pain, proving the reader's point. Your pleasure is extremely important to him so he’ll stop functioning if you said otherwise.

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬

Summary: When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader(her skintone isn't referenced but she has braids.) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. orgasm/delay denial. hurt/comfort. caretaking. servicedom!daniel. discussion of pain medication, injuries, and hospitals. dom/sub undertones. sub/shy!reader. praise kink mentioned. sensual beard shaving (it's hot). wet dreams. somnophilia. safe, sane, and consensual. oral sex (m and f receiving). vaginal sex. fake orgasm. mentioned multiple orgasms. Word Count: 3.6k words

Author's Notes: if the tags scare you, i promise it's not that bad!

secondly, thank you for the patience concerning the delay. my sister is doing a lot better now! she had an allergic reaction to pollen; she inhaled so much that her lungs freaked the fuck out on her, and i was in the hospital from 9am-9pm all day. finally got back home so i'm posting it, way late, but at least it's on the same day.

to make up for it, even though my lil sis was nearly taken out by the environment (i'm joking i love her i'm just being a big sister rn), i am releasing episode four on friday! and episode five on either tuesday or wednesday next week!

i hope you all like this episode xxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

The sound of bedsheets ruffling contrasts with the monotonous beeps of the heart monitor filling the sterile hospital room; the noise is more than enough to have you snapping your head away from your phone to look at your boyfriend. Daniel’s awake and he meets your eyes with a soft groan. You coo at him softly, squeezing his hand gently as he reorients himself.

“What time ‘st?” Daniel croaks out. You cringe at the sound of his dry speech and quickly hand him the glass of water resting at his bedside.

“It’s getting late, baby,” you hum, not failing to notice the slight wince he does when his cast knocks against the bed rail, “I sent Michael back to the hotel not too long ago, around 7. Charles, Lando, Max, and Oscar came and kept me company while you were in surgery. Oscar, I think, was pretty shaken up still—to me, I could tell he felt a little guilty that you’re here with a broken hand and he’s as right rain—so, maybe when you’re more clear-headed you can reach out to him. Yuki and Michael were here the first time you woke up. Still, you were so high on your pain medication cocktail, that I think you were hearing colors and seeing sounds,” you break from your ramble, suddenly standing and reaching over the bed to press the call button, remembering the nurse told you to alert her as soon as he woke again.

“Yes?” Daniel offers, unsure of how to respond to the edge in your tone, “I’m feeling better by the way—.”

A hysterical giggle slips from your lips, and you can see the regret wash over his face when you meet his eyes with a crazed look, “Forgive me, for not asking how you were feeling right away Daniel. It’s almost like, my brain isn’t working properly because I’m fucking worried about you. Yeah? I watched you crash into the barriers, and I heard you in pain—I called everyone on your team to get updates and nobody answered! So, I got on the next flight to Zandvoort after Michael finally texted me with updates, with no luggage, just my phone and a change of clothes—so forgive me, for not checking in on you right away, after you didn’t call me once,” you blink rapidly and Daniel softens, clearly it was a terrible time to deflect with humor, he just hates to see you worry about him, that’s why he avoided calling. He’s usually the one taking care of you.

“A-are you feeling better, though?” you ask shakily, deflating quickly at the sight of his warm brown eyes, “You’re going to set off every metal detector for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s like a 6 out 10 on the pain scale—”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the nurse interrupts in accented English, smiling at the two of you briefly before she moves to Daniel’s side and catching him up on the outcome of the surgery and discussing pain medication. 

“Visiting hours ended an hour ago,” the nurse speaks to you directly, “Did nobody come to escort you out?”

You shake your head in surprise, the time on your phone reads 9 PM—you have no recollection of time passing that quickly since Michael left. Gathering your few belongings, you lean down to kiss Daniel gently, “Be good for the doctors and nurses, Danny. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“No, what—she can’t stay?” Daniel begs the nurse, and she frowns at him apologetically.

Ruffling his hair, you continue, “It’s not her fault—she’s just doing her job. And, we’re besties now,” Daniel stares at you confused, “She’s been coming to check up on me the entire time you decided to cosplay Sleeping Beauty so if you decide to be difficult overnight, she will not hesitate to snitch on you to me. Understand?”

Daniel swallows before nodding jerkily, “Can I have another kiss?”

It’s an easy ask for you to fulfill; but as your lips barely brush his, Daniel hisses out in pain. He tried to use his left hand to pull you closer to him, obviously aggravating the injury. You exclaim worriedly and he tries to pretend that the flare of pain wasn’t that severe. But, as the nurse reassures you that the pain meds will kick in and he’ll go right to sleep, you’ve already decided: that hand will never be in a situation that causes Daniel unnecessary pain again. 

You tell Daniel that same sentence on the flight back to Monaco. He assumed that meant you’d force him to wear a sling or have it constantly cushioned and elevated (which you did anyway). However, he should’ve asked you to elaborate because he was completely blindsided to learn that you really meant all situations. 

You may have gone overboard the first week. You’re well aware that his hand is the only broken thing on his body, but you pamper him as if he’s bedridden with the most severe flu seen in the last century. You cook and order him hearty meals, you have alarms set for when he needs to take his medication, you shower with him to make sure he doesn’t wet his cast—where nothing sexual happens, you killed the vibe the first time he insinuated shower sex in conversation, mentioning the statistics of shower-related deaths—you quickly fulfill all of his requests, even if it’s sitting through a movie you find tasteless; yet, you refuse to fulfill one: sex. 

The doctor pulled you aside while Daniel was getting dressed to be discharged and told you to make sure he’s very careful with his arm, slow and controlled movements only, nothing abrupt. 

And, if there’s one word to describe Daniel during sex, it would probably be abrupt. 

He can’t keep his hands off of you when he’s uninjured. From your first time with Daniel, he showed and proved just how much your pleasure is important to him—he made sure that you understood that he lives and breathes to make you satisfied. But, you also know that he’d ignore his pain if it meant he was making you feel good; and, that’s not something you can risk, not with an injury that could affect his career if it doesn’t heal properly. 

You’ve reiterated that to him multiple times when Daniel tries to deepen kisses, hoping you’ll forget about your stupid sex ban and let him make you feel good. He’s not used to going this long without making sure you’re sexually satisfied. You don’t even allow him to guide you through masturbation, because you know you won’t be satisfied with it even if you get off—it’ll only lead to you falling into his lap begging for more. 

On the eighth day, you’re sitting in Daniel’s lap on the couch, rubbing ointment into the bruises left by the seatbelts of the car. You thought he was focused on watching the entire Dutch Grand Prix he missed out on, not thinking much of how he’s toying with the length of your braids with his uninjured hand. 

You think nothing of the soft sighs, moans, and groans he’s letting out of his mouth as you lightly massage him. All of these noises are common reactions to a sensation that feels good. It sucks that they happen to sound very similar to the moans Daniel makes when he initially fucks into you. You’re just a girl with needs that Daniel never fails to take care of; you’re not used to this, for the same reason Daniel can’t understand why you won’t let him get you off. 

Then, Daniel gasps out a soft ‘fuck’ that has no reason to be sounding that lustful and you start to squirm in his lap. You mindlessly continue to massage him, not exactly proud of the way you continue to strain your ears to hear his noises—and on one particular shift of your hips, you brush across his hard-on that wasn’t there a few minutes ago, and automatically fly off his lap.

In the frantic movement, Daniel tried to use both of his hands to keep you in his lap, irritating his broken hand. You flutter around him worriedly, your words a mix of chastising and displeasure. You don’t hesitate to say that this is exactly why the sex ban is in place (Daniel pleaded that it was a fluke, but you’re not eager to put that to the test).

Three days pass before Daniel deems you relaxed enough to have another attempt at seducing you into an orgasm or two. He approached you in the evening after you had watched him like a hawk as he took his pain medication. He wants you to shave his beard. It’s grown out some since he hasn’t shaved in a week or so. You’re not a professional beard shaver or anything, but you can imagine it’s difficult to shave your face with one hand. And of course, you’d jump at any opportunity to help out your boyfriend and allow him to relax and look pretty. After an unnecessarily long tutorial, Daniel pretends to have 100% faith in your skills and lets you take the first swipe across his cheek. You painstakingly use slow movements and light pressure, not forgetting to pull his skin tight with your other hand and clean the razor off with every stroke. You feel him tense underneath you as you ready to attempt shaving along his jawline. 

Pulling back at the last second, you make to smack his shoulder before hesitating and pinching him instead (it’s his left arm, you don’t want to jostle his cast resting on the bathroom vanity), ignoring his yelp you nag him, “Well, don’t act like I’m about to gouge your throat out or anything! I can feel you freeze up underneath me—it’s not like I want to cut you. I already have to stare at your ugly face every day, I don’t want to make it worse.”

Daniel pretends to be offended at your attack and the two of you bicker back and forth before settling down. The fake roast session calmed Daniel enough that when you brought the razor to his jaw, he remained relaxed. 

You smoothly shave the small area of skin and turn to clean the razor when Daniel speaks softly, “You’re so good,” a slight pause follows, “at this.” 

The praise tingles down your spine and you think nothing of it. Except, it continues. With nearly every swipe along his jaw, he continues to murmur praise with lidded eyes and an alluring tone. Whispers along the lines of ‘good girl,’ ‘just like that,’ ‘you’re so sweet to me,’ and paired with his stare dancing across your face, you dread the moment you finish shaving him. As your razor ventures down his throat, the air grows thick with intimacy. It’s the result of your boyfriend trusting you to repeatedly brush a blade along his throat and your unfortunate kink for praise and acts of service. With the last brush of the razor, you gently set it down on the vanity, exchanging it for cloth you wet with hot water. Ringing it out thoroughly, you gently begin to wipe Daniel’s face avoiding eye contact. When you swipe around his lips, you get distracted by their flushed color, a result of when Daniel bit his lip to make the skin underneath taut for you to shave. His tongue slips out to wet them and you can’t help but smash your lips to his.

It feels euphoric. You’re kissing him frantically, moaning into his mouth without inhibition, and you can feel him laugh as he struggles to match your desperate pace. His hand squeezes at your waist, anchoring you yet furthering your desperation at the strong grip as you try to climb him like a tree, tugging at his hair, shirt, pants, anything you can reach. At this point, Daniel would’ve had a hand in your hair, tugging at your scalp sharply a couple of times to rein you in and move you to his rhythm. You’re a little lost at the missing sensation and you pull away to pout at Daniel like you always do when he spends too much time teasing you.

It takes one look at his blown pupils, smug smile, and heaving chest before it jogs your memory. You step backward quickly to put space between you guys, raising a hand when you see him open his mouth, knowing he’s only going to convince you to get naked for him.

“I’m going to bed,” you state with a pointed finger, “You, are going to get in the shower, with cold water, and think about what you did wrong. And! You will not wake me up for sex.”

Daniel’s face falls, and you can tell he expected you to break, “Wait—you don’t let me shower by myself, what if I fall?”

You turn and leave the room, “It would be divine intervention. Karma, for trying to get me to break my rule.”

Daniel doesn’t wake you when he slips into bed, but you lose the benefit of going to sleep early when you jolt awake before sunrise. Your mouth is dry and your panties are embarrassingly wet. You can’t recall a single detail of your dream. Still, your legs are trembling at whatever scenario your brain decided to torment you with. 

Fuck it. Or fuck him, literally.

That makes sense. You’re going to ride Daniel, it’s the perfect position to make sure he doesn’t move his arm. You work him up beforehand so hopefully he won’t last as long; Daniel has unparalleled stamina usually, but with you constantly denying him for a while…he may wind up quicker. As soon as he cums, you’ll fake yours as well—because he’s only pleased if you're satisfied, otherwise he’ll attempt a round two. It’s that easy, right? You turn on your side and stare at Daniel, his face relaxed as he sleeps. Your synapses start firing as the plan comes to life. The two of you have discussed somnophilia, more on you as the receiving party. Daniel, of course, offered himself to you on a silver platter—any taste of you using him to get off? That’s always going to be a yes from him. So, yes. It is that easy.

You pull the duvet down to the edge of the bed and quietly shift to hover over Daniel’s thighs, never more thankful that he decided to wear only briefs to bed. And that he’s already half-hard; you’re extremely happy that the two of you don’t have a hand on how creative your dreams can get. He doesn’t shift when you pull his cock from underneath his briefs, carefully dragging them

down just enough to not be a bother. He stays under as you get him hard, it only takes a few strokes and some teasing along a vein on the underside. You rise slightly, sucking on two of your fingers before bringing them to rest along your entrance. It’s an annoying experience, you can’t remember the last time you had to stretch yourself out—Daniel’s spoiled you. The feeling of your fingers inside of you is underwhelming, the slight tinge of pleasure would be multiplied if it were him instead but; this is not for you. You are simply performing tonight.

You slide your fingers out and decide on getting Daniel as close to the edge as you can before he wakes up. You lean down to mouth at the head of his cock, knowing it’s incredibly sensitive and the sensation pushes him to the edge quicker than anything else. It can’t be more than a couple of strained minutes—your eyes and ears peeled to make sure you don’t miss any signs of Daniel starting to awaken. Thankfully, you feel him start to pulse along your tongue, a sure sign that he’s getting there.

You pull off, taking a second to breathe as you rest your head on his hip. With one last reassuring exhale, you move to straddle him, one hand underneath you to guide his length to your pussy. The second his head pops into you, you let out a pitiful whimper, eyelids fluttering shut, and your legs begin trembling again. Another realization hits you as you struggle to silently take all of Daniel.

You can’t recall a single time Daniel had forced you to be quiet. He’s always trying to make you scream his name. If he needs to hide your noises he muffles them with a hand over your mouth or his fingers in your mouth. Naturally, you use his tricks and do the same. With two of your fingers shoved in your mouth, you quiet your sounds as your ass meets your (somehow still) sleeping boyfriend's thighs. It feels like he’s in your throat; you know that no matter how long it takes you to make him cum, you’re going to be aching tomorrow. You begin to grind against him, whimpering softened around your digits. You slowly increase your rhythm up to a bounce, doing your best to squeeze around him—Daniel has mentioned before that he can’t resist cumming when you feel like you're trying to keep him inside of you and never let him pull out.

It must work because suddenly Daniel’s hips rock up into yours, and he’s awake with a singular breathy moan of, “Yes—oh, I thought I was still dreaming.”

You laugh airily, letting your spit-slicken fingers fall from your mouth and drop to press against your clit (you’re not actually, you’ve missed it by a mile but it’s all about convincing Daniel), avoiding meeting his eyes knowing Danny will assume it’s under the pretense of you being shy (once again, yes you are incredibly mortified, but you know he’ll be able to tell that you're faking this in a split second).

“H-how long,” Daniel moans out crackly, his abdomen contracting underneath you, “Have you been at this? ‘Gonna make me cum already.”

You nod frantically, moaning out loudly as if you’re on the edge as well. Daniel gets his feet planted and thrusts up into you forcefully enough that your moans turn real. Throwing your head back so he doesn’t see your face in case it gives you away, you continue to moan out exaggeratedly as you feel him cum inside you, pitching your voice and shuddering as if you released as well.

“What the fuck was that?” Daniel commands quietly.

You slump forward, sliding off his softening length and nuzzling into his neck to pretend like you didn’t hear him and to hide. He lets you avoid answering the first time he asks. He takes his good hand and fists his hand in the braids along the nape of your neck and tightens his grasp enough to get you to gasp.

“Mhm. When you cum, baby,” he starts softly, “That’s the quietest you ever get during sex. Usually, it’s because you choke on your breath, even though I remind you to breathe through it every time. You do this cute little thing where you try to slam your thighs shut around me, it doesn’t matter if it’s my hand, my head, or my hips, you try to crush me. It’s also one of the only times during sex when you make eye contact with me on your own, well depending on what position I have you in. I won’t repeat myself.”

You mumble into his chest fitfully before sitting up, “I didn’t want you to hurt your hand, okay? That’s all. During sex, you can never stop touching me and I was afraid that somehow you’d treat your hand a little too roughly and then, boom, you’ll never drive a Formula One car again—”

“Calm down, babe,” Daniel soothes you, bringing his right hand to massage your hip, “I think you’ve overdramatized my injury in your head a little bit. Firstly, I don’t even care if my hand suddenly fell off—genuinely, never deprive me of making you feel good. That hurts me more than my hand aches. Secondly, this entire time I didn’t even move my left hand off the bed. See?”

You look down at his hand and nod once. This entire time you enforced a needless sex ban when you could’ve been riding a high every day.

“Now, if you could be kind enough to let me restore my ego,” Daniel taps you on the ass so you rise to kneel over him, “C’mere and sit on my face.”

You hesitate, the thought of pretending to deny him crosses your mind, but you already shorted yourself of one orgasm tonight. That’s how you find yourself riding Daniel’s face, embarrassingly almost losing control of your legs at the first knock of his nose against your clit. Your boyfriend has mastered the skill of eating pussy and that’s why you feel no shame in just how quickly a few targeted thrusts of his tongue and the pressure of his nose have you shattering apart above him. And as Daniel said, you do choke on your breath as you climax, your legs tighten around his head as well—and you don’t have the strength to be humiliated at how he knows your body better than yourself.

Daniel guides you off his mouth and lays you down by his side only using the uninjured arm, and the care and strength behind that movement sends you shaking again through the aftershock and come down. 

Daniel coaxes you onto your back and nudges your legs open to slide in between them. He trails the fingers of his right hand across your fluttering folds, before spreading you open with two fingers, enamored at the way your relaxed entrance winks at him. 

“You can give me one or two more right? I think you need a reminder of how much I thrive off of making you feel good, pretty girl. Let’s see how many more I can get out of you before the sunrise.”

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© httpsserene 2023

[moonstruckme]

babe you’ve got me obsessed with doctor remus!

can i request a drabble where reader gets into like a car accident and has been taken into a&e with like mid/severe injuries and remus has been assigned to treat her?

if not then that’s fine! love your work bae 🎀

Hi gorgeous! Thank you for requesting (I'm obsessed with him too) :)

cw: hospital

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 716 words

The nurse leaves, and you think you might finally get more than five seconds to yourself but then the curtain pulls back again, a tall doctor taking her place. You’ve been able to feel your heartbeat pulsing through every inch of you since you’d stumbled out of your smoking car, and this new man doesn’t help matters. 

He’s lovely. With a face smattered with warm freckles and silvery scars and a mop of brown hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed, this is the kind of person who would fluster you on a normal day. Now, you don’t even know the word to describe the effect he has on you. 

He has to ask his question a second time before you hear it. 

“Have you had allergic reactions to any medications?” 

You blink. It still feels like reality is moving at twice its usual speed. You don’t know if it’s just you shaking, but it feels like the whole room. “Uh, no. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” The doctor’s voice is businesslike but kind, with a Welsh lilt. He flips a page on his clipboard. “Anything we weren’t able to address in the ambulance? Any new aches and pains?” 

“I—I don’t think so.” 

He lowers the clipboard slightly, looking at you. His eyes are a lightish brown color, like honey left too long in the sun. “Has anyone talked you through grounding exercises?” 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “What?” 

He almost smiles. “I’ll take that for a no.” He sets down his clipboard on the edge of your bed, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting down in front of you. “I’m going to have you breathe with me for a minute, alright, sweetheart?” 

It’s not in your nature to contradict professionals, but you feel your head shaking as if from somewhere outside of yourself. “Why?” you ask. “Aren’t there more important things?” 

“There are still things left to do,” he allows, seeming unaffected by your questioning, “but you’re stable. It’s nothing that can’t wait for a few minutes, and it’s important that you’re calm so you can think properly.” He takes your hands in his, ignoring the odd padding of the splint around your broken wrist and holding your fingertips instead. “All I need from you is for you to copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod. As he starts to talk you through it, your eyes begin to sting, an effect of his gentle tone or the respite your body has been craving or both. Your doctor’s expression doesn’t change when he sees the silver lining your eyes, but he gives your fingertips a light squeeze. 

“Okay, in for eight this time,” he says in that lulling voice. “Good job, just keep at it.” 

You manage to breathe in for long enough to satisfy him, and after the exhale he drops your hands. 

“Well done,” he murmurs, mindful of the small cuts on your face as he thumbs away your tears. “Are you feeling a bit better?” 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. The word comes out like a sigh, and his lip curves softly at the plain relief in the sound. 

“Happy to hear it. You were right earlier, there’s still plenty left to do,” he says, expression sombering somewhat as he looks at you intently, “but if you ever need a break, you tell me or someone else, okay? I don’t want you suffering in silence.” 

“Okay.” You wet your lips, feeling much more solid than you had a few minutes before. The world has slowed to its regular speed. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” 

He smiles, which is altogether too charming for a place like this. It makes the long scar going across his cheek crinkle slightly and you could swear his eyes lighten a shade. “Well, see, that’s how I know you weren’t really with me when you came in, because we’ve already been introduced.” His expression lets you know he hasn’t taken any offense, but your face still heats at your impoliteness. “It’s Doctor Lupin, but you can call me Remus.” 

Something in you rings at this new knowledge, like a tuning fork has been struck. Remus, your consciousness echoes quietly. 

His smile softens. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other today.”

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Some little incorrect quotes from the Merlin academy gang.

Because I have a bit of alone time right now UwU

(+Glassheart/CharmingHeart and other ships)

Squad reactions to being called straight:

Red : The fuck, no I'm not.

Hook: Excuse the hell out of you?

Morgie: Ding dong, you are wrong!

Bridget: Who told you that? And why did they lie?

Chloe: Rude.

Ella: *punches the person*

(I honestly want Ella or Chloe to punch someone)

---

Chloe: What are you up to today?

Red: Nothing.

Chloe: But you did that yesterday!

Red: I wasn’t finished.

(I feel that. Yuh)

---

Cinderella: Did you take out Red as I requested?

Chloe: Red has been taken out, yes.

Cinderella: You have my grat-

Chloe: It was a great restaurant.

Chloe: We had a romantic candlelit dinner.

Chloe: Red proposed afterwards- we’re filing the wedding papers.

(AU were Cinderella and Queen of Hearts are enemies or something and Ella wanted to kill the daughter of the Queen of Hearts for some reason idk lol)

---

Hades: The shadow realm? No, I’m sending you to Ohio

(I don't know much about Ohio. But apparently it's hell?)

---

Ella: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Charming: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Ella: But you’re always acting stupid?

Charming: ...

Charming: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

(aha 👀 okaaayy)

---

Morgie: How do I tell Hook that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined the crème brûlée?

(damn, Morgie. hell yeah! I'm hoping for you)

---

Morgie: I want a bf.

Bridget: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

(All of them really. But mostly a boyfriend/Hook)

---

Bridget: Watcha doin?

Morgie: Stealing my neighbour’s cat.

Bridget: Scandalous.

Bridget: Can I help?

(The cat wasn't treated well. And Best friend? Check ✅)

---

Bridget: Awww, why don't you like cats, Ella? They're just snuggly buddies! They have toe beans! They make a little blep! What's not to love??

Ella: I don't know Bridget, I just prefer to be conscious instead of dead on the floor.

Bridget:

Ella: I'm ALLERGIC.

(Bridget felt really bad for Ella that she can't cuddle with cats. She made it her mission to find some kind of potion/recipe that could make Ella not allergic so she can pat cats safely)

---

Morgie: Man, it smells like wrongdog out here.

Hook:

Hook: Morgie, are you alright?

Morgie: *sobs*

(Boyfriend? Check ✅? Also he would definitely make that joke.)

---

Hades: How high are you?

Bridget: Mm, I don’t know how to say it in feet.

Morgie: No, they’re asking what drugs are you on.

Bridget: Oh, antidepressants, why?

(oop. I can see that tho 🫠)

---

Bridget: Today at 7 am, Ella poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.

Hook: I watched Ella brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm.

Hades: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

(Says a god. He's literally a god. What the hell.)

---

Kind in a rush.

Also not much glassheart

Hope you liked it

Byeee

[rosekasa]

(slumber) partycrasher

He’s finishing up on Rue de la République when he sees Ladybug on Alya’s balcony. His footsteps slow to a halt on the roof tile. It’s Sunday today, isn't it? Ladybug doesn't patrol on Sundays. Did something happen at Alya’s? He stops, reroutes, and heads over.

He gets closer, the lights bringing them further into focus. The two girls stand close together, huddled over Alya’s phone, murmuring quietly.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says as he lands.

The shriek that exits Ladybug echoes through the street.

He stands there, rigid, all the punny greetings he had planned effectively smacked out of his mouth. He has never heard Ladybug make that sound before. He didn't even know Ladybug was capable of making that sound. Even Alya seems taken aback, staring at her wide-eyed.

After five heavy seconds of silence, Ladybug comes back to life. “Um—!” she says. “Wow! Chat Noir! Hi! I wasn't expecting you to crash our slumber party!”

He blinks, still reeling from the scream. “...Slumber party?”

This time, it's Alya’s stupor that lifts. “Um— yep! Ladybug comes over every Sunday and we have a sleepover. Y’know, Ladyblogger-Ladybug bonding time.”

Huh. So that’s why she doesn't patrol on Sundays? He thought it was a civilian thing.

…She could've told him.

“Oh. Well.” He hopes his voice doesn't sound strained. “Don’t let me intrude.” He gives them both a smile, then leaps back onto the rooftops.

Neither of them say goodbye.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

He doesn't want to be petty, but why would Ladybug not tell him about the sleepovers? They’d agreed to keep superhero things completely transparent between each other. So is this not a superhero thing, then? Is Ladybug hanging out in costume with Alya Césaire more personal than hanging out with Chat Noir?

He huffs, eyes snapping over to the light on Alya’s balcony. He has a right to bring this up, surely. He's her partner.

Ladybug is alone, this time, but the glass door is open. She has a blanket over her shoulders, a fox-printed mug in her hand, the light of Alya’s phone illuminating her face, eyes glued to the screen.

Remembering her reaction from the last time, he steps onto the balcony a little gentler from behind her. “Hey—”

“They're making out on a fire escape.”

He chokes on his spit, grappling for purchase at the balcony door. “I— I’m sorry?”

Ladybug whips around, the blanket flying onto the floor. At least she doesn't scream again. But the look in her eye is somehow even more concerning.

Behind him, a toilet flushes, and padded footsteps draw near. “Did you get to the part where he books a hotel—” She cuts herself off with a gasp. “...Chat Noir. Hi.”

The three of them stand together silently, in their awkward vertical line, for what feels like a full minute.

This was such a stupid idea. What’s wrong with him, accosting his partner on her days off? It’s not his business how she spends that, nor who she spends it with. Unlike him, she’s not wasting all her time thinking about their partnership. Maybe he just needs to get a life.

“Sorry for crashing— again,” he quickly says. He takes a couple of steps back to the railing, turning to face both of them. “I— uh, thought there was an akuma down the road and wanted to tell you but, uh, looks like it's just a tree.” He laughs nervously, grabbing around for his baton. “I’ll be off, then.”

“Wait— are you sure—” Ladybug starts.

There’s sympathy in her eyes. His breath hitches.

“Yes!” he says. As he steps away from her again, his baton slips from his hand. “Sorry, I’ll just text next time.”

Alya pipes up from behind him. “Chat, you’re always welcome to stay—”

“No, seriously, I, like, am allergic to sleepovers. I break out into hives.”

Ladybug furrows her brow. “I don't think that's true.”

“My medical history is very complicated.” Finally retrieving his baton, he opens it and turns to the skyline. “Well, bye!”

Ladybug makes a small, aborted sound of protest. But then as she reaches to stop him, her grip on Alya’s phone slips.

She screams. Alya screams. Chat Noir wonders whether this is what they're practicing together every Sunday.

Still balanced on his baton, he grabs the phone midair, holding it up over the safety of the balcony.

Automatically, his eyes fall on the screen.

Ladybug moans as Chat Noir kisses down her neck. He lifts her onto the fire escape, pulling her legs around him, lifting his head to press a hot, wet, kiss to her—

Alya snatches the phone from his hand. “Thanks.”

Ladybug’s face is crimson, hands tight around her mug.

Chat Noir looks from Ladybug, to Alya, to the phone. Her screen is still on. He looks away before he catches any more words.

He clears his throat. “W-Well, I should, uh, get off, then. I mean—!” He holds up his hands. “Be off! This balcony! And back home! Um— you should read— I mean, um, use your phone indoors just in case. Bye!”

He never does get around to asking about their slumber parties.

[damiansgoodgirll]

So girl, I’ve seen Beyonce is your favourite singer and she’s my favourite singer so could you please write Reader where she is a huge fan and she’s part of the judgment day and more like Rhea and Damian, she reacts to the album with them and they can’t understand like the hype or something like that because they are not into that genre and like reader has some crazy reaction.

Please it would be so fun! Thank you so my queen 🐝❤️

please, i always imagined what would their reactions be to beyonce or singers they don’t listen to lol, i’m so happy to make this request!

notes : i love rock music and metal too! i just needed to make reader a beyhive and make her hating metal music (please forgive me), also listen to this masterpiece thank you!

damian priest x reader x rhea ripley (PLATONIC)

cowboys

you always loved sharing car rides and hotel rooms with your teammates, especially damian and rhea. they were the first people to ask you to join them in the judgment day, seeing your potential in nxt and being barely twenty one, they wanted to give you a bigger opportunity and so they took you under their protective wing.

finn and dom were nice too, they helped you growing in your skills in the past year and they all took a liking in you but you had a bigger connection with rhea and damian.

they always pushed you, making you reach goals you thought were impossible and you couldn’t thank them enough.

there was one thing you didn’t like about them.

their favourite type of music.

rock. metal. punk. whatever they were listening to. you just couldn’t handle it. there was just one rock song you liked and it was beyoncé’s “don’t hurt yourself” rock song.

so long car rides with them were always a torture. you tried to make conversation most of the time but when it was a 7 hour ride, eventually you would finish topics and so you had to listen to them singing or more - screaming - to their songs.

they usually let you choose one or two songs, but that was it. and everytime you would choose rihanna or beyonce they would take over it.

finn once told you that metal heads only cared about their favourite music. the rest was trash for them. you didn’t believe him at first, thinking he was only overreacting but in this year you realised how right he was.

it’s like they were allergic to beyonce.

but tonight, oh, tonight it was going to be your night.

you were currently in the same hotel room as they were as rhea wanted to share a room with you all. you knew what was coming at midnight and so you asked multiple times to have a separate room from them, you didn’t give them explanations but rhea wasn’t having it.

so, a huge bedroom with two kings sized bed - one for damian and the other one for rhea and you - and a huge tv with all the apps you needed, spotify included was what you got.

the shock came when the track list dropped a day prior, letting you know that there were going to be 27 songs.

they can barely handle one song, how were they going to react to 27 songs?

you still didn’t ask them, as whatever band rhea was playing on spotify - probably motionless in white - were blasting in the room and you were currently fidgeting with your fingers.

the best guess was probably that they would leave you alone for two hours or so. maybe going at the gym or somewhere else. the worst guess was that they probably would laugh at you and telling you no. that would be the worst because you had been waiting for this album since the announcement day and you were already excited at the thought of a new beyonce album.

fifteen minutes to the album drop and you were already imagining yourself leaving the room to go somewhere else to listen to the album.

“guys!” you called for their attention. you were sitting on the bed next to rhea and damian, who were playing some cards game.

“you okay?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“i have something to ask you…”

“go on” rhea’s curios faced looked at you. rhea always liked the way you got shy around them, even if you had been with them for the past year. she kinda knew what you were going to ask, as you had been fangirling about the album with bianca belair for the past two weeks but still, she wanted to hear you asking them. deep down she knew she couldn’t say no to you.

damian, on the other hand, had no idea and he probably was going to have a heart attack at your request.

“so…i have a request…and for once i would like - uhm…i would like that you would consider my feelings” you struggled at first making rhea slightly chuckle.

“did we do something?” damian’s worried expression looked at you.

“no no no, you didn’t do anything to me…uhm…it came out wrong” you said “so, uhm…i don’t know if you know, probably not, but beyoncé’s new album drops in like ten minutes now and - uhm…since we’ve been listening to metal music all day long and i haven’t complained once - i would like to ask you if you could let me listen the album here? like, i know it’s not your type of music but i would really love to listen it here and not going like in the gym or somewhere else…since we have spotify and stuff…” you asked.

rhea was smirking and damian was very much confused.

“that’s it?” rhea asked and you nodded.

“why were you so scared to ask us that?” damian asked you this time.

“i wasn’t scared…”

“yes you were” he pointed out. he kinda felt bad that you had to ask them such a simple thing. yes, he knew beyonce wasn’t his music but he couldn’t see why it was a thing to ask.

“so?” rhea asked “you kinda looked scared”

“it’s not that. it’s just i know it’s not your type of music and you always act dramatic when finn or i ask if we can listen to something else so i thought it was going to be a problem for you”

“we always let you put your songs on” damian said.

“yes, and then you and rhea talk over it”

“oh” he said “i didn’t mean to do that i promise”

“okay…” you smiled “so you really are going to listen beyonce with me?”

“yeah, i mean, i don’t think 13 or 14 songs could hurt us” rhea joked and damian laughed too.

“actually…it’s 27 songs”

“what!?” the both screamed, making you chuckle.

“you still have five minutes to back up because the album is about to drop” you said as you were searching beyonce on spotify.

you observed the way rhea and damian looked at each others. definitely not ready for the outcome. but rhea couldn’t help but notice how excited you were about the album, and how you were happy with it. just a small thing that made you the happiest she ever saw you.

“here we go!” you almost screamed jumping back on the bed, sat between rhea and damian as you were about to press play when you saw the album popping up on her spotify home “are you ready?”

“wait…is it a country album?” damian asked and you nodded.

“you should have gave us a little more of infos about what kind of death we have to die…” rhea added a little dramatic, making you laugh.

“oh shut up! it’s gonna be great!” you said pressing play.

you were in tears after the first minute of ameriican requiem and now damian and rhea thought you were the dramatic one.

it got worse when beyoncé’s cover of jolene started as you always loved that song growing up.

“so she stealing songs?” damian murmured, earning a side look from rhea and punch in his stomach from you “okay i apologise”

the death of you was when daughter started, you knew beyonce was capable of anything but opera? the italian part? you were a crying mess, and even though neither of them were understanding the hype around beyonce, they couldn’t deny she was a great artist.

they were a little shocked when they saw you crying over her songs and they didn’t know what to do. if they should console you or letting you cry in peace.

“oh she’s doing it again!” you screamed when spaghetti started.

“doing what?” rhea whispered never getting a reply back.

you were crying and then you were not.

they felt like they were babysitting a baby.

damian was trying to stay awake just for you and rhea was kinda amused by the reactions you were having to her songs.

ya ya made you start jumping on the bed, tyrant made you feel like you were a porn star and ii hand ii heaven made you cry all over again.

one hour and a half later the album was over and you couldn’t believe the masterpiece beyonce just dropped.

“so?” you asked them, noticing their confused looks “did you like it?”

they knew they couldn’t say no because you looked too happy and they didn’t want to ruin your mood but they couldn’t say yes because - country? - definitely not their genre.

“i gave up after the jolene cover” damian joked, earning another side look from rhea “joking joking…it was interesting”

“rhea?” you turned to her and now she was speechless.

“uhm…yeah, it was an experience” she smiled at you, making you smile too.

you were happy with their reactions so you went all to bed.

two days later

another car ride. another show. another hotel room to be shared with damian and rhea.

you hit the shower first, tired of the trip you just had, you wanted to relax a bit before going to bed.

“your body laid out on these filthy floors

your bloodstains on my custom coutures

bathroom attendant let me right in

she was a big fan”

came from the bedroom. except it wasn’t spotify.

“they keep saying that i ain’t nothing like my father

but i’m the furthest thing from choir boys and altars

if you cross me i’m just like my father

i am colder than titanic water”

you heard damian singing.

he was singing beyonce. the opera song. they really thought you couldn’t hear them so they kept singing or more like, whispering, but you would catch a someone singing a beyonce song even in the loudest crowd.

rhea joining him too was something else.

you really couldn’t believe that but you pretended nothing happened because you knew you would have ruined their egos.

damian and rhea singing beyonce?

no one would believe that.

but you did.

and that was enough for you.

[hqbaby]

eight — sorry, my bad

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.3k content. swearing, sexual conversations, short sex scene with vaginal penetration

“Ouch,” Hinata says, stopping behind Atsumu. “Man, that must hurt.”

The blond looks over his shoulder, shirt in hand. “What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

They’re in the locker room, getting showered and dressed after a day of long and gruesome training. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Bokuto hadn’t shown up late and drunk, causing his team to lose the scrimmage and pissing Sakusa off. There was a bit of a squabble after that, but they managed to get it together in time for the next match.

“He’s talkin’ ‘bout yer back,” Aran snickers. “Rough night?”

Atsumu squints, trying to understand what they mean by that. Then it hits him. “Oh,” he says, eyes growing wide. “That.”

Yaku comes up behind him to see what the other boys are talking about. “Holy shit! Y/N did that?”

A few lockers over, Suna freezes at the sound of your name.

“Hey!” Oikawa’s piercing voice cuts through everyone's chatter as he marches his way over to the other setter. “Quit talking about my best friend with these jerks.”

“I’m not!” Atsumu throws his hands up innocently. “Blame Hinata. He’s the one that pointed it out.”

The other boy pulls a face as Oikawa turns to look at him with a fire in his eyes. “I was just worried about Atsumu!” he insists, backing away slightly. “I mean, come on. Look at what she did to him!”

Your best friend scowls but looks at Atsumu anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees it—sees them, all his previous anger washed away. Oh fuck, he thinks. The poor guy.

“Atsumu, I am so so so so so so sorry,” he says, ignoring the freaked out look the other boy has on his face at Oikawa’s sudden change in demeanor. “She’s a demon, I’m telling you. Satan’s spawn. I’ve been telling her mother since we were twelve that her real daughter must’ve been kidnapped and replaced by a monster because…”

Suna sees the marks on Atsumu’s back. Clearly yours. He knows because he’s been blessed with the same ones on several occasions and teased by his teammates about them to no end. Of course they never knew they were yours. No one knew.

He looks straight ahead at the open locker in front of him, quietly putting on his shirt and taking his bag out.

This shouldn’t bother him. It doesn’t, he tells himself. It really doesn’t. You’ve slept with other guys before, he knows that. You’re allowed to. It’s not like he can stop you. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, not when you come back to him at the end of the day. Not when he gets to hold you long after those other guys are gone. Not when you always choose him.

He slams his locker shut and pops his earbuds in, waving at the boys who say goodbye to him as he leaves.

That’s probably why you were busy last night. Why you didn’t read his message as soon as he sent it, like you usually do. Why you texted him back with a slew of apologies at 1 AM. It was all because, last night, you chose Atsumu instead of him.

Of course you did.

He feels pathetic. What did he expect was going to happen when you started seeing one of his best friends? Atsumu doesn’t hide you the way he does. He deserves more from you than Suna ever will.

He pulls his phone out and shoots a text. 

Fuck, he really hates himself right now.

“Explain.”

You perk up at the sound of Kaori’s voice, smiling as she approaches you on the bench. “Explain what?” you ask sweetly. “Love your hair today, by the way.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Yeah, yeah. Cut the crap.” She gestures at the three marks on your neck, there are two small ones that you would've gotten away with if not for the giant one beside them. “What are those?”

You keep smiling. “Curling iron, curling iron, allergic reaction,” you say, pointing at each one as you assign their causes. “Sucks to be me, I know.”

“Y/N.”

“Kaori, I love you.”

She groans. “What happened to ‘no marks’?”

“Well, this was the first time with this guy,” you say sheepishly. “Didn’t exactly tell him the rules.”

“First time?” Kaori raises a brow. “Was it…”

“Yeah…”

“Oh fuck!” she exclaims. “Okay! What the fuck? And you didn’t tell us?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

Yukie comes up to the two of you, drawn into the conversation by your screaming. “What is it?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

“She slept with Atsumu!”

“What? And you didn’t tell us?”

You pout and put your face in your hands. “Oh my god, could you be any louder?” you say. There are a few other girls in the room, but it’s not like they don’t know about you and Atsumu at this point. And you know more about their sex lives than you probably should anyway, so it all evens out. But still.

“Dude,” Kaori says, kneeling down in front of you and forcing you to look at her. She opens her hands in front of her and makes her palms face each other, holding them an inch apart. “Tell me when to stop,” she tells you, slowly moving her hands away from one another. She pauses when they’re four inches apart. “Bigger?”

You nod, feeling your face heat up as she continues moving her hands. She stops again. You wince. “Bigger.” With wide eyes, she increases the distance between her hands until you say, “Stop.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

Yukie gapes, staring at just how far apart your other friend’s hands are. “What the fuck.”

Kaori drops her hands and bows down in front of you, Yukie following suit. “You’re my new god, Y/N,” she says. “Fucking beast, I’m telling you.”

You roll your eyes and grab their arms. “Get up,” you say as the two of them resist you. “I’ll make you do laps if you don’t. I’m serious.” They know you're (probably) not serious but they get up anyway, sitting down on the bench beside you. Sometimes, you’re happy to be captain. Power is one hell of a drug.

“Was he good?” Yukie asks. “Like on a scale of one to ten.”

“Eight?”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t know!” you throw your hands up in defeat. “He’s just… nice. And, I don’t know, I think I’m starting to like him a little.”

“No way! You have a crush on the guy you fucked?” Kaori asks sarcastically. “It’s like that’s totally never happened before!”

You frown. “Rin doesn’t count.”

“Oh, baby,” she says, smirking, “he always counts.”

Suna throws his head back, hips thrusting uncontrollably as he feels his orgasm creep up on him. His breath is ragged as his whole body starts to tense up. He can feel it, he’s so close.

“Fuck! I’m right there!”

“Come for me, Rin!”

“Feel so good, so good. I’m coming! Fuck! Y/N!”

He cum spills out into the condom as his whole body freezes. His eyes shift down to the girl beneath him who looks up with an awkward smile on her face. He’s such an asshole.

“It’s Ayame,” she says meekly as he slips out of her. She sits up with her legs pulled to her chest.

He takes the condom off and knots it before tossing it into the trash. He stays on the edge of the bed, back turned to the girl. “Right. Ayame,” he murmurs, “sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she tells him and he knows she probably means it. She’s one of those girls who would do anything for him. It’s why he texted her in the first place. He knew she’d say yes to whatever he asked for. “It’s Y/N L/N, right? I mean, she’s really pretty. Everyone wants her.”

A dry chuckle. “They do, don’t they?” he says quietly. He glances back at the girl and shrugs. “Sorry,” he says again. “My bad.”

notes. this was honestly one of my favorite chapters to write in the whole series 😩 like we have some atsumu and reader silliness with their friends AND suna angst??? all the things i love writing <3

if you haven’t seen the results of the poll from last chapter, you can find them here!! totally not what i expected but ykw i’m not complaining

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.5)

PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 6

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

[Her POV]

“I’m back!”

My pace speeds up as I reach my house, I can see Keigo standing outside the door. Though the look on his face makes my skin crawl. Irritation and doubt were evident on his features. My brother was not one to ever get angry or annoyed easily, always a bright charming smile on his face. But now I’m just hoping nothing unpleasant happens.

“I’m sorry for making you worry Keigo..” I say the moment I approach him. I can’t look him in the eyes at all, I make sure to act as casual as possible while unlocking the door, though my hair still remains a bit disheveled and my breathing heavy and irregular.

“S’alright” he shrugs, entering inside and getting what he came here to collect. I feel my heart pounding out of my ribcage the moment he turns at me again, golden irises studying my appearance. Until they fixated at a certain spot in my neck.

Shit.

“Well I’m heading upsta-”

His hand grabs mine instantly, preventing me from moving further. Keigo takes in a deep breath before speaking.

“You sure you went at the store?”

The question hits me like a truck, even though I tried to prepare myself mentally for him to ask me this, it still didn’t make me feel less nervous.

“W-What do you mean? Also don’t grab me like this” I respond, getting away from his grasp. “Yes I was at the store. Or at least looking for one, it was an emergency”

“Emergency?” he replies, raising an eyebrow at me. “The emergency got anything to do with that nasty hickey on your neck, Y/N?”

My mouth falls open but no words come out. I can feel myself sweating, I need to say something, no matter how stupid it would sound. Just deny it all. If he finds out that I was making out with Dabi at the park-

“Well, actually yes. I don’t really know what this mark is,” I swallow. “I thought it might be some allergic reaction, or maybe something stung me. It’s reaally itchy.”

I feel like punching myself from the way I’m lying like a child who’s been caught by their parents.

Keigo simply rolls his eyes before letting out a chuckle, shaking his head at my nonsense.

“You think I’m an idiot?” he says sternly and I zip my mouth instantly. “That’s a hickey, someone left that on you and you’re trying to hide it!”

“Well Keigo, believe what you want! Stop treating me like a child, asking for my whereabouts and who I meet with- that’s none of your business okay?”

The sudden anger inside of me actually helps to hide all the nervousness from earlier. At least I won’t seem too obvious that I’m lying him straight to his face.

Keigo stops for a moment before speaking again.

“Look.. okay I believe you alright? You went to the store, whatever. Even if you met someone, you can simply say that you have a boyfriend, it’s not complicated.”

My face heats up at the mention of that word, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Would you stop this interrogation already? I’m done” I rush upstairs, not engaging further in the conversation. I close the door behind me and wait until Keigo has left the house again. Sitting on my bed, I take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down from everything that’s happened tonight. My blood is buzzing with adrenaline, the fear of getting caught, the thrill of meeting Dabi, the swirl of emotions in my chest at the way he talked so dirty to me.

God, the way he touched me, breathing in my neck, kissing me like that..

It doesn’t take long for me to realise how drenched my panties are. My brain keeps repeating all the memories, my skin crawling and my legs squeezing while remembering how warm Dabi was, how his hands roamed so inappropriately around my body, how he sat me on his lap, how hard he was. I feel ashamed, I didn’t expect it at first, I am still unsure of all of this, and he did not ask for my consent to touch me at all. My gut feeling is telling me to never meet him again, the alarms going off in my head, warning me of the danger he could possibly bring.

Though I still crave him so bad and I don’t know why. Feels like I’m under his spell, his hypnotic eyes and his intoxicating scent making me feel dizzy and all putty on his scarred hands. He brought the kind of excitement in my life I’ve never felt before. I feel my chest exploding, euphoria consuming my whole body, I just want to see him again.

I look at the mirror and gasp; no wonder Keigo made such a big fuss about it. The hickey is way bigger than I thought.

Dabi’s very first mark on me.

His quirk was scorching azure fire, I wonder.. would he ever go that far and leave burn marks on my body too? I shiver at the thought.

Though he still kept things hidden from me, the fact that he has done bad things makes me nervous. Who is he? What could this man have possibly done? Is he really Keigo’s friend? Why is Keigo associating with people who have done bad things?

I can’t help but think something is going on behind the scenes, especially seeing Keigo’s behaviour that day when Dabi came to visit, and refusing to elaborate. I need to find it out.

The loud notification ping from my phone interrupts my overthinking, almost making me jump. My heart skips a beat the moment I see the name on the screen.

DABI: “Everything alright doll?”

ME: “Yes all good, Keigo was a bit suspicious but I made him shut up and didn’t interrogate me further”

DABI: “Atta girl. You alone rn?”

ME: “Yes”

Now he is calling me. I bit my lip nervously, even though I was with him earlier, literally sitting on his lap, I still feel the rollercoaster of emotions in my stomach.

“Hey” I answer.

“We still didn’t finish our little date did we?” Dabi speaks. I gulp, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I thought I said we can meet another time? It’s getting kinda late to be outside now..”

“Who said outside?” he responds, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. My breath hitches at his indication, but I still act like I don’t understand anything.

“C’mon y’know what I mean.. if nobody’s home it won’t hurt to visit you a little, sweetheart. And I’m sure we’ll be way more comfortable that way”

His comment makes me blush a little, but I have to use my logic.

“I can’t let you in, no way! If Keigo comes again, how will I get you out of the front door?”

“Front door?” Dabi laughs. “Did you really think I ever used your front door to enter in yo-”

Wait, what?

He didn’t finish the sentence, zipping his mouth from talking any further.

“I mean, I can use one of your windows~” he corrects himself.

“Wait hold on- what did you mean to say earlier? About never using my front door?” I whisper, my breathing getting heavier. Did he actually break in without me knowing?

“Nothing” he says nonchalantly. “Nothing at all”

I remember the pretty blue flowers I found on my nightstand, and how he said that it was a gift from him. He never elaborated how he got them in my room.

“Dabi you’re scaring me” I say. “Can you please tell me how did you-”

“I think you had a long day, dollface” he interrupts me. “Best for ya to take that beauty sleep now. We can meet another time, yeah?”

I hum in response and nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Good. Talk to ya tomorrow”

Dabi hangs up. I sit there motionless, if my brain was boiling with thoughts earlier, now I feel it almost exploding. I’m already getting paranoid, I make sure to lock all the doors and windows, and close the curtains as well.

Maybe Keigo was right. I must not interact with Dabi any longer.

(Dabi is not gonna like her decision)

Tagging: @mostlyheinous @touyalove @awalkingshame @scariusaquarius @dabislittlebeaniebaby @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

[morganbritton132]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BRACELET WITH EDDIES NUMBER ON IT

Was there a time Steve sleepwalked and someone did call Eddie? Was there another time it came in handy when Steve lost Eddie (or Eddie lost Steve) or something other?? Please I need more that is so cute

Just a warning, I made this sad for no reason.

Once when Steve went on tour with Eddie, he wandered off in a post-ictal fog and ended up lost in the city. It took them a few hours to find each other because Steve didn’t know where he was nor did he have any money on him. After that, he would write the phone number of Eddie’s manager on his arm since he was the only guy on tour with a cell phone.

Pat, Eddie’s manager, wasn’t thrilled with this arrangement because he didn’t particularly like Steve, but after Steve channeled the coldest version of his mother and reminded Pat that only one of them was replaceable – “And managers are a dime of dozen” – he begrudgingly agreed.

He was never called.

Steve actually got the idea for the bracelet from one of his second graders.

After a pretty bad allergic reaction, one of his students came back to school with a little silver bracelet on her wrist. It had her mother’s phone number on it and the words ‘Peanut Allergy.’ She smiled up at Steve when she showed him and said, “My mama says this will keep me safe!”

He smiles too, “I bet it will.”

The bracelet is a surprise that Steve never gets to tell Eddie about. The day it comes in the mail, Eddie is over at Gareth’s for a D&D campaign so Steve never even gets the chance to tell him. He goes to bed before Eddie gets home and wakes up in the Emergency Room.

He’s cold and his feet hurt, and there are cuts on his hands and medical tape on his face, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the backseat of a blue Camaro with the world’s most reckless driver. He tries to sit up and it sets up an alarm and then there’s a hand in his, squeezing it.

It takes Steve a second to recognize the rings, to follow the rings up an arm, up to big eyes and messy curls, and Steve breaths out the only thing he can think, “Wow.”

“Wowza, big boy,” Eddie grins back at him, and Steve loves him. “How are you feeling?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, uh. Sleepwalking again,” Eddie hums and then he smiles again. He taps a ring on his free hand against the metal bracelet on Steve’s wrist, “This is fucking brilliant, by the way. Did you think of it?”

Steve’s jaw kinda hurts like he’s been clenching it, but he smiles anyways, “Yeah.”

“You’re a genius, babe. They called me immediately,” He says, kissing his knuckles. Steve frowns, seeing a bruise there. Eddie notices and his grin takes on a chaotic edge, “You punched a security guard.”

“What?”

“For real, babe,” Eddie laughs at the panicked look on his face. “I don’t know what they did to trigger you, but you fuckin’ decked one of ‘em.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to jail.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I took care of it,” Eddie says and then to the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. The guy is a fan and I gave him tickets not to press charges. Also, he feels pretty bad about spooking you since you clearly weren��t in your right mind.”

“Was in my left mind then?” Steve half-jokes, half-yawns. “Who brought me in?”

“You did.” Eddie’s smile dims in a way that’s a little sad but full of love. “You came here on your own actually – without shoes. We’re gonna have to teach your left mind about shoes – and, uh. Based on what I’ve heard, you were looking for a patient.”

“A patient? What patient?”

“They, uh. They said you were looking for Max.”

[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh. 

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[crazylittlejester]

I’m gonna go on a crazy ass rant because I’m upset and also very tired

A huge reason as to why I characterize Warriors the way that I do, regarding his fear of being poisoned and his food anxiety, is a way to explain myself and my own anxieties caused by my allergies, because when I say to someone I don’t think I can eat the food at the party/function/their house EVEN IF it was specifically made to be free of my allergens, they just don’t understand why I can’t eat it. They just don’t understand that just because it’s ‘safe’ doesn’t mean I feel safe enough to eat it, because there’s always that lingering ‘What if’ in my mind that food made outside of my vision is contaminated somehow.

It is so HARD to explain to people the genuine fear that you are going to die because a food created an odd texture in your mouth and you gave yourself a panic attack over nothing. It breaks my heart every time I go to my friends house and her mom offers to make me food because I’ve been at her house for thirteen hours and haven’t eaten a meal with them, because even though she cleans everything and offers to let me watch her make it, there’s still this loud screaming voice in my mind saying that that food is not safe to eat. And it just NEVER goes away. I feel awful because her mom is so sweet and willing to help me, and I just can’t ever accept because I manage to convince myself it’s contaminated every time

I have been dealing with this for my entire life and never not once have I been able to get someone to understand what this feels like or seen it shown in a media form anywhere. I’ve had family and therapists both just tell me to get over myself, because I’m being ‘ridiculous’ and the craziest thing to me EVER is that for the first time in nineteen years, I have had an outlet to throw this frustration into. Warriors and the food issues I have given him are so important to me because for the first time in my life I can explain this fear through a character and even if people may not relate or really, truly get what it’s like, they understand. They understand and they recognize it as a valid fear, and it’s because of a fanfiction about a traumatized war hero. (which is INSANE to me that this is what it took for people to understand, but you know what, I’ll take it)

This rant was inspired because I opened a sealed container of ice cream and the allergen labels were incorrect and now I can’t eat it and I’ve wasted money and I’m so upset and it’s been a really long week, but also because I never saw anyone talking about this when I was a kid, and if I’d had someone there to represent me like this, or just be there for me to connect with, I would’ve felt a lot better. Understanding allergies and food restrictions is so important for so many reasons, the most important being that if you know how to help someone, you can save their LIFE. And for other people who feel the same way I do, it’s so GOOD to know you’re not alone and that there’s someone out there who gets what you’re dealing with

If I can make people understand what it’s like to live life this way, then that is so important to me. If I can explain to people what to do in an emergency situation because their friend is having a allergic reaction, I will, because not enough people understand how allergies work, and I’m sick and tired of hearing stories about kids with allergies who were peer pressured into eating when they didn’t feel comfortable and then suffering the consequences, and I am TIRED of seeing companies mislabel their fucking food.

Also do NOT be afraid to ask any friends or classmates or coworkers with allergies how to use an epi pen because You Could Save Their Life. If anyone is curious, I’LL tell you, or look up a youtube video I’m sure there are some on there

Anyways, this is why I give Warriors the food issues I do in my fics, for anyone else out there with allergies who’s ever felt invalidated by people telling them their anxieties were stupid, and so people who have no idea what it’s like to fear your food will kill you can try to understand that this is the irritating reality for some of your peers. (not that everyone with allergies has this exact experience, I have a friend with allergies who just eats whatever and prays it wont kill them, but I know now that there are plenty of people out there with allergies who DO have this experience)

Sorry for kinda ranting, (I’m just a little guy 🥺), but this is something that is so hugely important to me, and sorry Warriors but you had too similar of a problem so now you get my exact issues 🫶

[hamsterclaw]

hii! i just finished the vows and I really love it. love the mixture of smut, fluff, angst, and even comedy in it. the chemistry between yoongi who's patient and devoted husband and oc misunderstood yet sometimes really chaotic, is one of the best chemistry I've ever read. you've explained a lot of backstories of the couple, specifically oc through drabbles, yet you haven't really explained about her having a different name. like when yoongi brought her to the hospital after the allergic reaction and then found out that she actually has a different name. I wanna hear the backstory for it, and maybe the full reaction from yoongi, like him bringing it up again.

Ah the name thing — my take is this. It’s not the norm for them for a spouse to change their name when they get married and so Yoongi was surprised to find out reader had taken his surname.

His reaction under the cut!

Warnings: Sex, swearing, sulking Yoongi

Your husband is sulking, you’re sure of it.

It’s unlike him. He has a limited repertoire of emotions from indifferent to exasperated, and you’ve never seen him like this.

You’re getting changed into one of his old t-shirts, and he hasn’t so much as looked at your ass once.

You keep him in your peripheral vision as you smooth your hands over your ass, pretending to straighten your silky shorts, but he doesn’t even blink.

‘Yoongi, are you ok?’ you ask.

He’s staring into his section of the walk-in wardrobe you share, and he’s definitely not choosing what to wear because he only wears one of two t-shirts to sleep.

Oh shit, is that what the problem is? You’ve nicked his shirt?

You wander over to him.

‘Hey, you want this shirt back?’ you offer.

He flicks his gaze at you, gives your tits a cursory glance and shrugs.

You pull the t-shirt over your head to give him a better look.

‘Here, you have it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You’re bare underneath, and you see the flare of interest in his eyes before he looks away again, accepting the t-shirt.

He slips it over his head.

‘Thanks.’

You rifle through his t-shirts and pick one at random to wear.

Yoongi’s already in bed by the time you finish washing your face, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

‘Are you angry with me, Yoongi?’ you ask, perching on his side of the bed.

‘No,’ he mumbles, refusing to meet your gaze.

‘It seems like you are,’ you say.

He turns over, back to you. ‘I’m tired, are you going to turn the lights off?’

He sounds crankier than ever.

‘Sure,’ you say.

You get up and turn the lights off, trip over his slippers on the way back.

‘Shit!’

You sense movement in the dark, and a moment later Yoongi’s reaching for you.

‘Are you ok?’

You hit his side table with your head on the way down, but you think you’re all right.

‘I’m ok,’ you tell him cheerfully.

‘What was that bang?’ asks Yoongi.

‘Just my head.’

Yoongi curses. ‘Are you ok?’ he asks again. ‘I can’t see a thing.’

His hand finds your arm. ‘Let me have a look.’

You blink your eyes closed as he shines his phone light at you.

‘I’m fine, Yoongi, stop shining that thing at me!’ you complain.

He mutters something you don’t quite catch.

‘What was that?’ you ask.

You can’t see him rolling his eyes, but he definitely is. You can tell by the tone of his voice when he says, ‘Maybe the reason you keep forgetting to tell me things is because you keep hitting your head.’

You grab the front of his shirt.

‘Do we need to talk about something, Yoongi?’

Yoongi grumbles, ‘Just get into bed before you hit anything else.’

You climb in next to him, roll over the opposite end, shivering a little at the coolness of the sheets.

The bed’s so big you can starfish and still not touch your inexplicably grumpy husband.

Yoongi asks, ‘What are you doing?’

‘What do you care?’ you ask.

If your husband wants a fight, you’re more than willing to give him one.

He’s quiet, then he says, muffled, ‘your ass looks good in those shorts.’

‘Too bad you’re not getting near it tonight,’ you retort.

There’s the rustle of sheets, and a moment later your husband’s head hits your outstretched hand.

‘Why are you spread out like this?’ he asks.

You kick out your legs, and he huffs as your foot touches his.

‘What do you want, Yoongi?’ you ask.

‘I’m angry with you, but I want to fuck you.’

His bluntness startles a laugh out of you.

‘You should just say, I like angry sex too,’ you tell him.

Yoongi makes a sound very like a laugh that he quickly muffles.

‘Jagiya,’ he sighs.

‘Don’t jagiya me, Min Yoongi,’ you warn, rolling over into his arms.

He wraps an arm around your waist, buries his face in your neck, runs his hand over your hip, up the hem of his t-shirt, over your skin.

‘You make me so angry,’ he says, the gravel in his voice making your toes curl.

‘I always make you angry,’ you say, lips against his.

He turns his head a fraction, kisses you warm, deep. His hand’s stroking circles over your bare skin, inching up to touch your breasts.

‘Always,’ he agrees.

He cups a hand fully over your bare breast, and you shiver with delight as he thumbs your nipple.

He moves his hips, lets you feel how hard he is, nudging against you.

His lips are distracting you but you’re determined to finish your sentence. ‘Why are you always so mad at me, Yoongi?’

Yoongi’s busying himself pulling your t-shirt off, kissing a heated path down the valley between your breasts.

‘You make me crazy, jagiya,’ he mutters.

He runs his thumb over your nipple, follows it with a lash of his tongue. Rolls the pebbled flesh between his lips, sucks until you feel an answering pull, a tightness in your cunt.

‘Yoongi,’ you moan.

‘Shhh,’ he murmurs, popping off your nipple, soothing you with a lick.

The hand that was settled on the curve of your hip slides between your legs, against the strip of bunched cotton barely covering you now that you’re wet.

He hums, approving. ‘You like this, don’t you? You like me playing with these pretty tits, you always get so wet —-‘

He tugs his briefs down, nudges the blunt head of his cock against your slit, and the pressure of him against your panties makes you moan again.

‘Get inside, Yoongi,’ you plead, trying to push your panties off.

He touches along your folds, entering you shallowly with the tips of his fingers, teasing the pad of his thumb over your clit.

You cry out in frustration as he laps at your other nipple, rubs up over your clit.

‘Shit, I can feel you squeezing me,’ Yoongi taunts. ‘You want me?’

You’re fisting the sheets in frustration.

‘Yoongi please!’

Your maddening, infuriating husband has the audacity to smile.

He’s beautiful.

You want to punch him across his gorgeous face.

Instead, you ask, ‘Is this because I didn’t tell you I changed my name?’

There’s a flicker in his eyes that tells you that you’ve guessed correctly.

‘I’ve been L/N all my life, and it never meant a great deal to me,’ you say.

His hand stills between your legs, and his dark eyes are intent upon yours.

‘I thought taking your surname might give me a fresh start,’ you tell him.

It sounds stupid when you say it like that, naive.

You look away from Yoongi, curl a hand on his back. ‘Let’s get back to fucking,’ you say, unbearably self-conscious.

Yoongi’s still staring at you, you can feel the heat of his gaze.

Across the room at some social event, it gives you life to know your husband’s staring at you, usually with fury.

Here, in bed, where it’s just the two of you, it’s so searing and raw you can barely stand it.

Yoongi’s fingers curl under your chin, his thumb strokes your cheek, but he grants you the kindness of not forcing you to meet his eyes.

Instead, he tugs your panties down, enters you, sheathes himself to the hilt.

You let out a breath that’s halfway between a gasp and a moan.

You can’t help yourself, you sneak a glance at your husband.

You love when he looks like this, brow furrowed in concentration, eyes dark. He moves his hips in the way you love, and the drag of his cock inside you is exquisite.

Another moan spills from your lips, and Yoongi leans down, captures your lips with his.

‘You like this, jagiya?’

‘I like it,’ you say, breathless, and Yoongi kisses you again, intimate, slow.

‘Good, I want you to like it, you feel so good, fuck.’

He snaps his hips against yours, deep, slow, making you feel every inch of him, until your eyes are squeezed shut from the pleasure of it.

You come with a gasp of his name, and Yoongi breathes yours as he seeks his peak.

He curls his arms around you, tight, and seals his lips to yours as he comes.

Breathes you in.

Afterward, he reaches for his t-shirt, says, ‘put this on.’

He slips it over your head, grasps your hand against the cool sheets.

There’s quiet all around you now, no light save for the moon through the window.

‘Take it all,’ Yoongi says. He’s speaking softly, but his voice carries anyway.

‘You should take my name, my clothes, everything,’ he tells you.

You can’t see his face, even though it’s close to yours.

‘It’s all yours, jagiya.’

He seems to hesitate, an infinitesimal pause before he says, ‘all I have is yours. All of me is yours.’

You want to tease him about his phrasing but there’s a lump in your throat, and you can’t speak past it except to say his name.

Yoongi strokes his thumb over your hand, and his breathing slows, until you know he’s fallen asleep.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ tell me more about Gerrard biting it at the murder mystery night!

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰ what’s happeniiiiiiing

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Hey!!!!

30 for ☠️:

---

 “But I think someone commented on it being vegan.”

“Vegan,” Tommy agrees. 

“Vegan,” Matt and Mark from Harbor both answer. 

So there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that he chose the pitcher that was not supposed to contain clam juice. And still he died of an allergic reaction.

“Did your husband have any other allergies besides shellfish, Mrs. Gerrard?” Ransone asks Dorinda. 

“None that we knew of,” Dorinda says. 

“How quickly after he started drinking did Captain Gerrard react?” Ransone asks the party guests. 

“Maybe a minute? Two?” Eddie replies. “I don’t know. I was pretty buzzed already from drinking before the caesars came out. Time feels… Loose?”

“Two minutes? Less?” Hen frowns. “Really, I can’t say.”

“Could’ve been forty-five seconds?” Karen answers. “I’m not sure.”

“A minute and a half?” Buck guesses. “I wasn’t paying a ton of attention to him.”

“God, I don’t know,” Chim sighs.

“A minute,” Tommy answers confidently. “It was a minute.”

---

30 for ➰:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

He turns to see the kayak rack lurching, sending the top kayak sliding out, fast and hard onto the sand. It lands right where he was standing.

It would have hit him. Right in the back of the head. Buck feels a faint throb in the back of his skull and lifts a hand to touch it. 

“Oh my god!” Brittany shouts. “That was close!”

But Buck doesn’t respond to her. Instead, he catches sight of Eddie. 

Eddie is standing, a few feet away, arms planted firmly at his sides, staring. He’s just staring at Buck. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are big. He’s not really breathing. 

“Dad?” Chris asks, noticing his father’s frozen state. “Are you okay?”

“Eddie?” Buck adds. 

“How did you know that was going to happen?” Eddie asks. His voice is low. Accusatory.

“What?” Buck asks. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie repeats. 

“I just… I had a bad feeling.”

---

36 for 🚨:

---

“We go,” Eddie says. “Together. I hold your hand. You grit your teeth. Maddie sees you aren’t the issue.  And then we bitch about them the entire drive home.”

Buck sighs. “Doesn’t seem totally fair.”

“It’s not,” Eddie agrees. 

But what is? The unasked question. Right. ‘

“We aren’t bringing Chris,” Buck insists. “I won’t.”

“Definitely not,” Eddie agrees. “I won’t even introduce him to mine properly.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees eventually. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles sympathetically. “I’ve got your back. You know that.” 

And he does know it. 

iii.

They do exactly what Eddie suggests. They agree to a single dinner. They dress nicely. They bring a side dish. Baked brie and fig jam. Something Bobby taught him. 

Buck reminds himself it’s all for show. For Maddie. For himself. But an insidious little part of him whispers a quieter truth. You still want to impress them. You still want their approval. He know it’s true. And he fucking hates it.

---

36 for ⚡️:

---

He’s not sure why this is so significant. It’s not like Bobby is doing anything different from what he’d normally be doing. Being friendly in a social setting. He’s just being himself; a happy, unburdened version of himself. Buck knows what the inverse looks like, too. But somehow, it is significant. 

A year and a half ago, when Buck first made the decision to cut his parents out of his life, there had been a sort of loss. Not a real one, but a psychological one. The loss of an idea maybe. The misheld delusion that one day things could get better, and he could have parents to celebrate him during these big milestones. That they’d want to. If he put in the work. If he could be better, be less explosive around them. Less sensitive. There was a long part of his life where the idea of getting married without his parents would have filled him with shame and grief and emptiness. 

He doesn’t feel any of those things today. No shame, no grief, no emptiness. He feels proud. He feels joy. He feels loved, fully. And he doesn’t feel like he’s missing his parents, in any way, shape, or form. He is not lacking anything with their absence. 

He feels like he has exactly who he needs. 

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Buck replies. 

“You okay?”

Buck realizes he’s been staring into space, in Bobby’s general direction. 

“Oh. Yes. Yeah, I’m great actually.”

Eddie squeezes his knee under the table. “Good. I’m glad.”

Buck looks down the table at everyone who has showed up for them tonight. 

Yeah, there’s nothing empty about his life at all.

[stylinsoncity]

yuzu harry's pov: the morning after their fight in London when Louis is in Doncaster

Harry hears the front door unlock and considers rushing into his room to avoid Tyler, but there’s not enough time. He’s not the one who should have to hide anyway, but his eyes are so puffy from crying all night he looks like he's having an allergic reaction and he's rather embarrassed about that.

He glances at Tyler and then away just as quickly and carries on eating his cereal in peace. He can feel Tyler’s gaze on him, but Harry looks adamantly at a spot across the room as he chews.

Then Sophie steps into the apartment behind him. She takes one look at Harry, then at Tyler and shakes her head at him. “Harry,” she says, sadly, approaching the table. She has a seat and touches his wrist gingerly. “Is Louis gone?”

“Thanks to him,” Harry says.

“I’m so so sorry,” Sophie says, sounding heartbroken. She seemed to like Louis, though she only spoke with him briefly at the wedding. Now, they might never speak again.

Harry bites hard on his bottom lip when he feels like crying again. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” he says.

“Even so,” Sophie says. She gives his hand a squeeze. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Harry says.

“You don’t look fine,” Sophie says. “And you don’t have to be.”

Harry glances at Tyler again. “Thanks, Soph. But I don’t really feel like talking about it,” he says. “Not with him.”

Tyler sighs. “I can go.”

“Maybe you should,” Sophie says, glaring at him “Maybe you should apologise first.”

“He’s not sorry,” Harry says to Sophie.

“I’m sorry Louis left,” Tyler says. “I’m sorry if what I said made him leave, but it was the truth.”

“It wasn’t your truth to tell,” Sophie says.

“It affects us too,” Tyler says to her.

Harry stands and collects his cereal bowl. “Dickhead.”

“I’ll be the dickhead if it keeps you honest,” Tyler says.

“Who are you, my mother?” Harry asks.

“No, but she’d probably agree with me.”

“Christ,” Harry says, laughing humorlessly. “In case you missed it, I don’t want to be in business with my mum. But if that’s the role you want to keep playing, tell me now.”

“And what?” Tyler says. “You're out?”

“Maybe so,” Harry says.

“‘Cause of him?” Tyler asks, mystified.

“Because of you,” Harry says. “You actually don’t get it. You’re worried I won’t follow through with the plan when I’ve never actually given you reason to think I wouldn’t. Just like Japan. I confided in you as a friend and you had a meltdown as my business partner. You don’t know how to separate the two. So, right now, I say fuck the plan. Right now, I don’t want to work with you at all. You clearly don’t trust me. And guess what? I don’t fucking trust you either.”

Sophie puts her head in her hands. Tyler says nothing at all. Harry turns and goes back into his room.

[xanadontit]

Dear Care and Feeding.

My husband and I have a delightful, inquisitive 4-year-old daughter, “Bree,” who has a nut allergy. We have been able to manage this fairly well, but the problem is my in-laws. They were careless about nuts to the point that we had to stop coming over to their place. My father-in-law keeps a bowl of peanuts or trail mix on the end table next to the couch, and never remembered to remove them before we arrived for a visit. Even worse, my mother-in-law believes Bree’s allergy is something she will outgrow over time and even thinks she can be “cured” if she is exposed to nuts in small doses, because she read about people overcoming allergies through exposure therapy on the internet. After Bree nearly ate some peanut butter M&M’s my FIL forgot to put away on our last visit to my in-laws’ place I put my foot down. I said until they were willing to take my daughter’s safety more seriously, we would not be coming over to their house. My husband grumbled that he thought I was overreacting, but went along with it. My in-laws were very chilly for a couple of weeks, but eventually agreed to the new arrangement.

I thought we had resolved the problem, but I was wrong. When my in-laws visited our home last month, I left Bree watching TV with her grandmother while I went to check the mail. I came back to find my MIL in a panic, my FIL on the phone with 911, and Bree on the floor nearly purple and gasping …

I realized she was having an allergic reaction and immediately gave her a shot with the EpiPen I carry with me at all times. Within several heart-stopping minutes Bree was breathing better. The EMTs came and took her to the hospital in an ambulance while we followed behind.

While we were waiting for the doctors to update us at the hospital, my MIL told me she had given Bree a small piece of a Snickers bar. She said she thought Bree could overcome her nut allergy if she ate a little each day. My husband had to practically hold me back. I shouted at her that she had nearly killed my daughter and as far as I was concerned, we were done with both her and my FIL. My MIL huffed that she was only trying to make it so Bree could have a normal life and stalked out of the hospital with her husband on her heels.

It’s been over a month now, and my husband has been trying to facilitate a reconciliation between us. He acknowledges that what his mother did was wrong and dangerous, but still tries to defend her by saying “that’s how she is,” and pointing out that she never intended to harm Bree. I have told him that I will never be able to trust his parents around our daughter again. His mother hasn’t even so much as apologized. He thinks I am being too harsh and am taking this too far. Please tell me I’m not.

—Am I Nuts?

Dear Nuts,

No, you are neither being too harsh nor taking this too far. You made it abundantly clear to your in-laws what the rules were regarding your daughter and her allergies. Because they read too much online baloney and like to imagine they know better than anyone else, they broke them on purpose, put her life at risk, and don’t even seem to feel that bad about it. They suck! You are right and he is wrong. I hope this makes you feel better.

But it does you no good to feel better now and still have your husband claiming you’re overreacting, even in the aftermath of your child nearly dropping dead. It does you no good to be the lone voice in the wilderness. You need him on your side.

It’s possible that he finds your daughter’s nut allergy so frightening—and it is frightening!—that he’s desperate to grasp at any straw that suggests she might “get over it.” Combine that with an unwillingness to confront his parents, and you might have a dad who’s feeling just torn enough not to know how to handle this mess. Sit down with your husband and explain exactly how you feel about what his parents did, and how you feel about how he is not supporting you—or, honestly, even protecting his own daughter. Feel free to wave a printout of this advice column to help make your case.

Maybe, down the line, you’ll decide together to reintroduce his parents into their granddaughter’s life. (I know it feels like you never will want to, but there are such wonderful rewards for a child in having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents.) If so, there will be conditions, and whatever those conditions are, he’d better be on board for conveying them, in no uncertain terms, to his amateur-immunologist parents—and making clear to them that there will be no divergence from those rules.

******************

I'm sorry but what the FUCK is Dan Kois' problem? The dad/husband fucking sucks which tracks because he comes from fucking sucky stock and I'm failing to understand what "wonderful rewards" await this poor child from "having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents" unless he means "heavenly rewards" because they seem intent on killing their granddaughter.

Can you imagine being this kid?

"Hey, Mom, why did you let Grandma and Grandpa around me? They were constantly feeding me peanuts and I ended up in the hospital every Christmas."

"Oh, a complete moron advice columnist said it would be good for you. Somehow. Hey, you were great at calling 911 and not all kids can say that!"

ETA: And what's with all the sympathizing with the dad because he's just so sad his kid has an allergy and doesn't know what to do?! You don't let the kid eat peanuts/peanut products and you keep the kid away from people who purposely do that. He doesn't need to get an MD and cure food allergies for all of mankind. Christ.

Would love to hear @sequinedably's thoughts on this one.