#this it sponsored by vodka

[poptartbunny]

Currently separated from my best boy and would appreciate other pictures of the best boys and girls to make me feel better

[go-to-two]

Call me a wh*re for marriage, but how are you going to have two characters marry each other, and then just ignore it when it matters? Jay should have told Hailey about the job before taking it, and I have no doubt she still would have supported him. She should have seen him off at the airport, not some manufactured attempt to make Voight a good guy in all this. Since when are they not the priority in each other's lives?

[thatdykepunkslut]

"I'll never become like my mom!"

Transes my gender.

Loses ability to hold a job for more than 3 days.

Starts dating an alcoholic.

Task failed :/

At least I'm weird about sex in an entirely different way (:

[maxonerous]

First time using halftones n’ shit

[eurosleazarchive]

i am absolutely craving a chocolate martini right now

[ma-du]

K, so. I'm at a debutante birthday party. And it has an open bar. And okay so far, right? Well. It turns out that mixing ADHD with lemon, vodka and ginger drinks and party sweets is not a good idea.

The good thing is that I'm a rational drunk, so I'm just sitting in a corner drinking my drink and reading Supernatural fanfiction while listening to music, since, you know, ✨tism✨ and dancing crowd is not a good combination.

At least I'm not asleep yet, but it must be because they were playing YMCA lmao

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Gambler - Yan! Sponsor x GN Dom?Reader (NSFW)

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Gambler who will fuck you on the damn game table with both your ankles resting beside his jaw. All cards and chips scattered, what were you even betting on? Right, a bet of who will be railed nuts.

Yan! Sponsor who sips down the wine that was served to him as he watches you ruined by him. Occasionally flicking your nipple while letting you sip on the wine as well, sharing it with him with a kiss.

"You pretty little thing, shouldn't have bet against Kai... you blew away all my chips."

"Oh shut up, you enjoy watching me wrecked either way."

"Eyes on me."

Yan! Gambler who hisses whenever you pay attention to the latter more than him, will drill into you even faster and harder just to keep your attention on him.

Yan! Sponsor who proposes the idea of playing a game of blackjack while the two of you fuck.

"Who'll be the dealer huh... wouldn't want anyone else seeing you naked."

"A game, you and me. Besides, what else can you bet on? Just be nice and wrap my cock with that cute little hole of yours yeah? I'll have a game with Kazuto first."

He mutters as he gives your cheek a peck, his hands rubbing your cheeks. Kazuto goes to open another brand new deck card, shuffling it swiftly before sliding it to him.

"The winner gets to fuck 'em yeah?" "Sounds fair enough."

The two of them play while you are endowed with the coiling pleasure that is settling in your stomach, you are close but all that ends the moment he pulls out. You figure he lost the bet with the other as he curses at him.

Kazuto cackles as he rounds his way toward you, examining your wasted body as he fingers you, his other fingers feeling your chest, "Be good for me okay?"

"Make it fast, I wasn't done yet."

He starts pumping his fingers in and out fast, scissoring it open before he slides his erected cock out of restraints, lining the tip in front of your gaping hole.

"That's why you should have just folded, pretty boy."

Kazuto slams his cock into you in one motion, making you moan out of surprise, adapting to his shape and length. The latter only grumbles as he pours himself another glass of vodka, gulping it down like a madman while he watches the two of you, his cock still hard and in need of relief.

You pity it, and so you beckon him to come closer. No, it is more of an order, "Come."

He rounds himself close to your face and your hand holds his cock, lightly pumping it while your lip kisses his angry tip, giving it a tease by occasionally licking it.

"Who's a good boy hm?"

""Me."" The two speak in union before glaring at each other.

You chuckle at them before you roll your hips around Kazuto's length, igniting a moan out of him. You waste no time in pampering Kai's cock as well, wrapping his shaft with your mouth while your legs are wrapped around Kazuto's waist.

Kai hesitates a bit before using your hair as a lever, chasing his own pleasure greedily. You bite his member lightly, reminding him to be mindful of his actions. The state shared between the three of you is clear now, who is leading and who is being led.

You pull away just before he gets to come, edging him by rubbing his head, eyes trained onto the other man. "How's my little mutt doing down there? Need me to ride you instead?"

"N-no, ahhn..." Kazuto shudders as he blushes from the moan that slips out of his lip. You merely smirk at him as you rock yourself on his length, your forearms holding your whole weight as Kai rubs one for himself.

"Be a good boy yeah? Sponsor me more so that I can bust it even more in these dumb games yeah?"

"Wh-whaa-? Wait, urgh- wait, I said wait! Akh-!" You yank his face toward yours by the collar of his shirt, slamming your lip into his while greedily feeling his chest, "Ya' think ya' get to make me wait?"

Not wanting to lose, Kai butts in and licks your face before you allow him to feel your mouth with a kiss, tongues swirling against each other while your hand pinches his nipple, giving him more stimulation.

"Come on boys, cum all over me now yeah?"

Just from your words, granting them permission to come, they start to chase their own pleasure at a more feverish pace. Rope of cum spluttered on your face while the other comes inside you, making your inside feels warm. You groan at how it is splattered on your hair as well, "Fucking aim, skill issue boy?"

"I don't know. You just look prettier that way."

"Don't say something that you will regret, I'll fucking return it to you twice fold."

Kazuto peppered your face with kisses as though he is trying to calm you down, his softened cock still resting inside you. "Now now, how about we play for another round?"

"Sure, I'll make sure you two can't sit anymore once I win."

And you sure are a person of words.

-- Crack

Yan! Sponsor: Please, have a seat.

NPC: ??? Why aren't you sitting down sir?

Yan! Sponsor: I suppose standing is one way of living a healthy lifestyle?

NPC: *visible confusion*

--

Yan! Delinquent: Cmon' pal, we are heading out.

Yan! Gambler: ...with a bike?

Yan! Delinquent: Well what else you shithead? On a cock? A stap-on?

Yan! Gambler: I'm passing that.

--

They are like, the second oldest Male casts in LIfE Pro (after Yulian) and the least favored one ffs. Just gonna drop this snippet here as some sort of memorial for them ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

[vivwritesfics]

Have to have her

Mafia Au! This will probably be a two parter, and the next part will be kind of dark

Oh my look at him 🥰

Masterlist

Max Verstappen was a powerful man

It was all due to the way his father raised him

When he wanted something, he got it

At first, it was an old Formula One car

One of those relics that gets hung on the wall

And then he wanted to sponsor a team, using his fathers only legit business

And then he wanted his own house just outside of Monaco

(That was where his father drew the line. If Max wanted a house in Monaco, he was going to have to earn it. For the time being, he could have an apartment)

For a while, Max was somewhat happy with everything he had

He had his apartment, his F1 car relic and enough money to do whatever he wanted

And what did Max want?

Well, for a while, he wanted nothing

He had it all

He even had his own inner circle to help him do his business

Which was less than legal, by the way

Drugs, guns and more criminal activity

Max was born into it

And them, he laid his eyes on Y/N

Max was simply driving around the streets of Monaco, stopped at a red light, when he saw her

She was gorgeous, sat outside of a café with her friends

She caught Max's eyes and he caught hers

When the light turned green and he drove away, Y/N thought that was it, but Max knew better

The next time they saw each other, they were in the club

Rather, Y/N was in the club and Max had his men report her every move to him

Next thing Max knew he was sitting in a both in the club, an expensive bottle of vodka in front of him

The it was a game

In his expensive suit, with his expensive alcohol, he was hard to miss

Many girls came up to him, but not the one Max wanted

She was too busy dancing with her friends

He was sat there for maybe an hour before he got impatient and gave up

So then he walked over to her

"Hey!" He shouted over the music

But Y/N couldn't hear him

She looked at him with a grin on her face and wrapped her arms around his neck

They were kissing

And then Max had his tongue down her throat

And then they were getting into his car and driving back to his house

His impressive, well guarded house

Not that Y/N noticed

She couldn't stop staring at Max

If he wasn't driving, she would have been in the back with him, tearing off his clothes

It didn't take long for just that to happen

Max parked his car in front of the apartment complex and led Y/N up the stairs

As soon as Max and Y/N were in the elevator, somebody came and moved his car for him

They didn't make it to his bedroom

As they walked past the sofa Y/N pushed him onto it

She climbed into his lap moments later and began unbuttoning his shirt

Max's hands started on her hips, but they soon moved down, holding her ass

Eventually they made it up to the bed

Not before fucking on the couch

And then against the kitchen counter

And then Max carried her up stairs

Her arms were around his shoulders as she sucked dark bruises into his neck

Her legs were wrapped around his waist

Max was still holding her ass as he carried her

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a pounding headache

Waking up, hungover, in somebody else's bed wasn't ideal

Other than her, the bed was empty

Whoever had brought her home the night before was nowhere to be seen

Slight panic set it

When the bedroom door opened, Y/N shut her eyes and rolled away, pretending to still be asleep

Whoever came in left something on the table beside her bed and walked away, muttering under his breath

When Y/N rolled towards the table, she saw a Red Bull Racing mug

Inside there was tea

When Y/N sat up, she realised she was naked, but that didn't come as a surprise

She kept the blankets against her chest and picked up the tea

Sipping, she looked around the room

It was grand, impressive

The bed was huge, bigger than a king

The television mounted on the wall looked as though it belonged in a cinema

Relics from old Formula One grand prix were displayed throughout the rest of the room

How rich do you have to be to afford stuff like this?

The door swung open again and the handsome man from last night walked in

"Good morning," he said to Y/N

"Morning," she croaked back, placing the mug on the table beside her

There was an uncomfortable moment where they realised they had never formally introduced themselves

It had been a lot of kissing, a lot of making out and then a lot of fucking

"I'm Y/N," she went to say as Max began introducing himself

"Well, I've got work to do. Feel free to watch television or something," he said and stood up

Before Max could leave, Y/N called his attention once again

"Do you think I could borrow a shirt?"

While Max worked, Y/N watched television

She didn't know what else to do, didn't know how to get home from here

So, the only thing she could do was stay were she was

And then she got bored

And hungry

And thirsty

Dressed in one of Max's shirts and sweatpants, Y/N made her way out of the room

She got one step out of the door before she was stopped

"Uh, Max said you have to stay here."

Tanned, tattoos and dark hair

He was gorgeous

But he was no Max

"Oh," Y/N said and went back inside of the room

Because, really, what else was she supposed to do

It was a full eight hours from the moment Y/N woke up until Max took her home

They talked on the drive, getting to know each other after such an intense night

"Do you think we'd be able to do this again?" He asked as Y/N climbed out of the car

To Max, this was intentional, methodically planned out

To Y/N, this was a random one night stand

She gave Max a look, an apologetic one

Oh, he didn't like that

Max drove off, pedal all the way down, speeding through the streets of Monaco

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel

He would have her, he had to have her

Max Verstappen didn't take no for an answer

Well, what can I say?

When he wanted something, he got it

And he wanted Y/N

[tvseries-writings]

Bad addiction

Plot: After an interrogation gone wrong, it is hard not to fall back into old habits and make questionable choices

TW: alcohol addiction, past suicide attempt, depression

Wandanat x Bioquake (Jemma x Daisy) x Bobbi x reader

Many people say that silence is the most deafening sound, more so than any other sound, even more so than the sound of a mine being blasted to extract the precious minerals it contains. And now, as you sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking down at the still-unbroken bottle of vodka in the complete silence that surrounds the room, you realize that these people are right.

It is 3:45 a.m. on a dreary Saturday morning, and that boy's face, imprinted in your mind, has kept you from sleeping and at the same time made you open the bus locker that Jemma had diligently locked as soon as she learned of your "not-so-little" problem.

In your world, everyone has tattooed on their body the first words their soul mate will say when they first meet.

You have to admit that in the unhappy and violent family you grew up in, it was no big deal to have five different phrases tattooed on your back due to some hideous flaw in the system. Two soul mates was abnormal enough, but five? Inconceivable, and Mark, your stepfather, had reminded you of it over and over again until one fine day he died of a heart attack. Of course, the moment he had collapsed in front of you, you hadn't run for help... Besides, they say there is no such thing as karma.

Bobbi was the first of the five mysterious soul mates you met and fell madly in love with. It was Bobbi who brought you into S.H.I.E.L.D. shortly after recruiting Daisy (then Skye), and who finally put a face to two of the people whose words she had tattooed on her right forearm.

"I want to be your sponsor, I want you to get better."

It was Bobbi who helped you out of the maelstrom that had engulfed you, who helped you to what would become six full years of sobriety. Six years without a single drop of your trusty friend alcohol in your stomach. She became your sponsor, was with you day and night, held you while you puked your guts out in the filthy bathroom of a bar at five in the morning, and whispered tough words to you when you told her you wanted to quit. You don't know where you'd be without her. In fact, you don't know where you'd be without all of them. Jemma, Bobbi, Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha are your rock and always will be. But today, today you have to forget and they may be your rock but unfortunately they have far too many demons to face and yours you might as well keep to yourself.

With a knot in your stomach and nausea, you uncork the bottle. The pungent smell of vodka burns your sinuses as you carefully place the cap on the counter. The concave side facing down, just like at the bar. Your fingers tighten around the thinnest part, the contact of your skin with the cold glass makes you shiver, and for a moment, just a single moment, you think you don't want to throw away these six long years of sacrifice, and then... then the boy's face hits you like a slap in the face. Actually, the slap would hurt a lot less.

He was just a boy, a young soldier molded by Hydra who had killed himself to give in during your interrogation. You had been too harsh and too slow to stop him, and you had not stopped him, and he had broken his right cheekbone, causing the small cyanide capsule placed there, just below the surface, to rupture. That boy was walking around with a time bomb between his eye and his nose, and he had done it voluntarily, killing himself with that same bomb. He had killed himself in front of you, his name was Gideon and he had just turned nineteen. And he was dead, he was dead because you were not focused enough, because you were the one who pushed him to do it and now he was gone. He should have had his whole life ahead of him, he had just been subjugated, but now, now there was no chance of redemption for him. So you punished yourself, nothing new, the bullet in your right leg is proof of that...even though you had stopped the bleeding by now. You just needed to punish yourself, that's all. And the bottle you hold in your fingers serves the same purpose as the bullet.

"What are you doing?"

The sound is so sudden and unexpected that you let go of the bottle and it shatters on the floor of the bus. The plane continues its course as if nothing had happened. How fascinating machines are, so emotionally numbing and yet indispensable.

Bobbi approaches you slowly, as if afraid to frighten you. Her hair is disheveled and her expression is a mixture of concern and weariness. You swallow, begin to shake your head and fall to your knees, repeating the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as you fiercely pick up the shards of glass from the bottle.

"Stop or you'll get hurt."

The blonde girl is not even in time to say these words before a piece of glass gets stuck in your hand, causing a deep cut that begins to bleed profusely. You don't notice and Bobbi is scared to death. You don't feel the pain and, on the contrary, you continue to clear your mind.

Perhaps you have become a machine too, emotionally numb. Damn, how you want it; to feel no more pain - isn't that the human dilemma?

Bobbi snaps forward, tired of seeing you hurt again and again, and grabs your wrists with her hands to stop you; it works. You suddenly freeze, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. Bobbi never loses sight of you for a minute as she gets up to get a cloth to dab the wound and stop the bleeding.

You stay like this for about ten minutes, in silence, while Bobbi bandages your wound with two stitches for "safety". He wraps your hand, but when he is done, he does not pull away, contrary to what you expected. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes meet before breaking the silence.

"Do you ou want to tell me what happened?"

You always said that Bobbi, as an alternative to super badass spy, might as well have been a psychologist (as well as a model, of course). In fact, her tone is exactly what one would expect from a psychologist; gentle but detached. In a warm but cool clarity of action. In the art of weighing words that only Bobbi is capable of, and in which she is the first even to Jemma.

When she realizes you have no intention of answering, her hand quickly finds your leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

You bite your lip and shake your head slowly.

A small smile curls her lips as she leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Well... you did good rockstar."

Bobbi rests her forehead against yours, caressing your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We're both tired and need to sleep, especially you. I'm not dropping the subject, and it's definitely something we'll discuss in the morning, but until then, until then, we're going to bed with the others. And I don't want to hear any objections."

You follow her, whatever she wants, you're going to give it to her. You owe it to her after the shit you wanted to do tonight; not that you wouldn't have done it if you had gone back. But now, now is a thought that has to be put off until the morning.

Bobbi tucks you in and wraps her arms around your sides, hugging you from behind. Your nose breathes in the lavender scent of Diasy and the vanilla scent of Wanda as Nat's soft snoring and Jemma's recovered words accompany you into the world of Morpheus.

.........................................................................................

As soon as you wake up, the weight of the conversation you're likely to have with your soul mates hits you harder than you'd like. And if you hate getting up on other days, today is even harder.

You get out of bed and walk down the hall with the same agony as a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

No, a condemned man is better off than you. At least he has the consolation of death; you, on the other hand, have only the certainty of a head-spanking from your girls.

It's barely 10 a.m., and your girls' voices echo down the narrow, cold hallway leading to the kitchen. As soon as your head pokes through the door, the voices stop.

"Hey."

Your stomach turns as you sit down in the only empty chair.

Wanda is at the stove, Natasha behind her, trying to help, even though you all know the Russian spy is anything but a good cook. Instead, Daisy, Jemma and Bobbi are all three at the table. Needless to say, all eyes are on you.

Wanda places a stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table and with a shy smile invites you to help yourself to her delicious masterpieces.

You are not hungry. The silence between you is so strange, so different... that it has created a knot in your stomach. You are sure that if you even tried to take a bite of Wanda's pancakes, you would immediately run to the bathroom and throw up.

It is not you who breaks the silence, nor is it Bobbi; contrary to what you might have expected, it is Daisy who does so. Well, maybe you should have seen it coming.

"How could you even think that?"

You know very well that it is not a question. The others know it too.

The young superheroine wants to know the reason that almost made you break your promise.

Not that you could forget that promise. How could you?

It's hard to forget the feel of your girls' damp, heavy clothes and the sting of their deeply disappointed stares as you limped into the foyer of your simple, unassuming Manhattan apartment, staggering around with a bottle of vodka in your right hand and a gun in the other with only one bullet in the clip. It is hard to forget the look of terror on her face as you squeeze the trigger three times in a row, the cold metal of the barrel burning your temple. It is impossible to forget their screams as Natasha lunges at you, at the exact moment when you pull the damn trigger for the fourth time in front of their disbelieving, frightened, terrified eyes, and the bullet lodges on the wall behind you; inches from your head, as the gun, now unloaded, is kicked away from the Russian spy. It is impossible to forget the promise you made to them about never touching even a drop of alcohol again.

Over time, you have learned so many terrible things that you have trouble falling asleep at night. And when they say that addictions of any kind don't change a person...they lie. Fuck, how they lie. Lying bastards in an age of lies. An addiction changes you. No choking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I - yesterday was hard, the mission - I'm sorry."

You don't look up, you don't meet the eyes that you learned to love and accept only after a long time. You don't have the courage, you can't look at the most important people in your life, knowing that you made them suffer again. How many more times will you have to hurt them before they realize they no longer want you in their lives?

Bobbi sighs and shakes her head slowly. He gives you a small smile, just a hint of the one you loved before anyone else. She squeezes your thigh and reaches her hand out from under the table.

"We're not mad, we're just worried rockstar."

"Bobbi's right, Detka, we are scared that what happened years ago might happen again."

Wanda plays with the rings you exchanged when you all decided to move in together.

Natasha doesn't speak; she just watches you in silence. So does Jemma.

Daisy, on the other hand, seems on the verge of exploding, and that's exactly what she does.

"You can't do this to us again, okay? Do you know how long it took us to get over that? We still have nightmares about that night and you know it! How could you even think of drinking? You had to talk to us about it, you had to..."

Bobbi interrupts the inhuman, wrapping her arm around her hips and holding her close as she plants small kisses on the top of her head.

"He killed himself right in front of me, Daisy! He was a young boy, he had his whole life ahead of him and I didn't stop him!"

You slam your hand down on the kitchen counter, carefully away from your soul mates, using so much force that the deep cut you made the night before reopens and the bandage quickly soaks with blood.

A small grimace crosses your face as soon as your hand hits the marble surface.

"Y/n!"

Jemma takes your hand between her own, examining the wound medically and glancing at Bobbi as Wanda runs to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

"Honey, it's not your fault. The only culprit in all of this is Hydra. Yes, the boy was young, but he was aware of his choices."

Natasha strokes your back as Jemma uses needle and thread to sew up the cut on your palm. Jemma is about to put the fourth back on when you pull your hand away from her loving care and turn away from your girls.

"Y/n, please come back, I'm not done yet."

You look away; your left arm falls back at your side and small drops of blood run down your hand and fall to the floor. Your only desire now is to hold on to the bottle and drink until you see the empty bottom. You do not deserve their love, let alone their understanding.

"You're thinking very hard, detka," Wanda whispers, holding out her hand to you, and when you don't take it, intertwining your fingers, the hurt look on the Sokovian's face makes your heart clench.

"I thought I had overcome my addiction, and yet when some event shakes me, I am still in the grip of my emotions and it sucks....You want to know if I still want to drink? Yes, it gets stronger and stronger and it will never go away. That's the problem, I... I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life.

You all feel the small gasp that leaves the telepath's lips as she looks into your mind.

"Last night I... I took your gun," you whisper, turning your gaze to Natasha, "I know the password to the safe where you hide it; besides, it's not hard, just remember the day you first came into my life, and yes, yesterday I took the gun and put it to my temple, but I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't, okay? Just like I didn't touch the bottle of alcohol in front of me, so yes, I'm not okay, I'm shaken by what happened and part of me will always want to end it, but I'm not going to make you go through this again. I love you too much to hurt you like that again."

You scratch nervously at your wound, pinching your stitches before a gentle hand stops you. Jemma takes your hand back and makes the final stitches as the girls surround you.

"It's going to be okay honey, we're going to get through this too, but you need to go back and see Dr. Garner."

You sigh and shake your head before being stopped by a rather pissed off inhuman.

"I don't think you have a choice, so you're going to do what we say, okay?"

You sigh, nodding slightly as you begin to find the steel floor beneath your feet particularly interesting.

"Y/n, where did you leave the gun?"

Bobbi whispers and the question that has been hanging in the air until now is asked.

You teleport to your bedroom and retrieve the gun from its hiding place, where it had been masterfully concealed among some of your old clothes, and then Teleport back to the kitchen and hand the gun to Bobbi. The blonde takes it and slides the magazine out of the black Glock she holds in her hands, and when she does, your heart stops. You didn't think he would check.

"Y/n...? One bullet is missing-"

Daisy grabs the clip before Bobbi can finish her sentence,

"Are you fucking serious? You did this? You lied to our faces?!"

"I, it's not what it looks like."

Your throat goes dry as you look for the nearest chair to sit in; you wrinkle your nose as the bandage you've been so busy tightening around your thigh rubs painfully against the wound. And while the other girls are too busy trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda reads your mind and her eyes go wide as she falls to her knees in front of you. The other girls look at her with confusion and concern before the Sokovian speaks.

"Detka, Detka, where is the wound?"

Your breath catches and you freeze. They can't take away the pain you feel, they can't - you don't deserve the relief, you don't.

"N-no! Me, it's okay, I took care of it, I'm fine."

Natasha, who had been silent until that moment, steps forward and pulls your pants down before you can even think of stopping her.

The blood-soaked bandage shifts to reveal the bleeding, red wound; an ongoing infection, most likely -- after all, you didn't put any disinfectant on it, and the only thing you cared about was wrapping it tightly with a bandage so you wouldn't lose too much blood. You don't even know if the bullet got out, but considering your teleportation skills, it probably did. The only reason you don't stay naked every time you teleport is because Fitz made all your clothes out of a dwarf material that apparently allows you to stay clothed.

"Damn it!"

Natasha says, leaning over your thigh and looking at Jemma, urging her to get the first aid kit. The biochemist runs to the bathroom and returns in less than a minute with the kit in her hands. You kneel down next to the former Russian spy before putting on your gloves and cutting off the now completely useless blindfold.

Bobbi walks over to you and places a hand on your forehead to check your temperature before asking Natasha to hand her the thermometer.

"She's warm, I think the wound is giving her an infection."

Bobbi puts the thermometer to your lips, and when you make it clear that you are not going to take your temperature, Bobbi raises her right eyebrow and looks at you intently.

"Rockstar, I don't want to force you to open your lips, but you really messed up, your health is not the best right now and we're really worried, so please, please... help us help you, okay?"

Bobbi's voice breaks as her look of pain and concern finally makes you realize how much this, how much YOU are costing them...so you do everything they tell you and a full twenty-five minutes pass before you are finally patched up and lying on a cot in the infirmary.

"Why did you do this? Are you... do we have to take you off missions? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Natasha approaches the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your good leg.

"Obviously, considering what he did."

Daisy blurts out, and the fact that she relies so heavily on her sarcasm lets you know that she is genuinely worried about you.You bite your lip, a small sigh rippling the air around you as you trace the bandage on your hand with your thumb, distracting yourself from the conversation you are about to have.

"I... just wanted... I needed to feel physical pain, and not the kind of pain that tears you up inside. I just needed to feel nothing, just for a little while...I'm sorry."

Jemma squeezes the IV bag and, after a final glance at the monitor showing your blood pressure and heart rate, sits down in the empty chair to your left before taking your hand between her own.

"We're going to help you, okay? It's going to be okay, we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we're going to get through this, just like we did before."

"But we need you to help us, rock star."

"And you need to tell us how you feel, especially if it makes you do things...dangerous for yourself, detka" Wanda comes over and gives you a small smile with eyes full of concern, just like the other girls.

Daisy crosses her arms under her breasts and you see worry and anger distorting her face and then, to the surprise of you all, the inhuman bursts into tears. Sobs shake your body and your need to embrace her makes you get out of bed and reach out to her, hiding a grimace of pain.

"Dee, Daisy, hey, it's okay love, I'm sorry, I know how that night left a deep scar on you, I... when certain thoughts come, I can't think straight... I can't think at all, damn it. I don't... I don't think about how much damage what my mind is telling me to do could do to you. I'm sorry, my love."

Daisy throws herself into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the cot as the inhuman wets your shirt with her tears.

"I know what it feels like to want the pain to stop, many of us do it”. Your body stiffens at the thought that at least once both Natasha and Wanda and Daisy felt exactly what you felt and are feeling now, "but you are not alone, I know you feel alone but you are not. We are here and we love you so much it hurts..."

"I am so sorry...I, I will try to get better, I want to, for you and to finally be well without having to resort to pain or alcohol."

You whisper, leaving kisses in Daisy's hair as you hold her close. Your girls stand still, letting the inhuman vent before they too join your embrace.

They say nothing, they don't need to. The fact that they are there, their warmth is more than enough and they bring you a slight relief and the burden you have been carrying for so long finally lightens... at least for now.

Thanks for reading! Spoiler: some poly!aos x wandanat x reader is coming! Comment, like and support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[acocktailmoment]

Strawberry Tequila !

Ingredients:

▢2 1/2 ounces silver tequila, can sub vodka or gin

▢3/4 ounce elderflower liqueur

▢3/4 ounce fresh lime juice

▢1/2 ounce simple syrup

▢2 strawberries, muddled

▢2 cucumber slices, muddled (optional)

Instructions:

In a cocktail shaker, muddle strawberries and cucumber slices together. Add all remaining ingredients to the cocktail shaker and shake vigorously with a cup of ice for 10 seconds.

Double strain into a chilled coupe glass and serve immediately garnished with a strawberry slice.

Courtesy: Kitchen Swagger

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

[go-to-two]

I don't even have words... But the whole "I think we stayed true to his character" is already B.S because the way they're trying to make Jay like Hank is the most unbelievable scenario. Also, the way Hank was talking to Hailey that whole episode? Idk man, but this episode mad me mad.

Big mad, anon.

I've been trying to find the words, but they may come more clearly with time. The way Voight speaks to his team is despicable. His weird need to insert himself into their marriage is uncomfortable. He is the leader, and he relies on them to keep the team afloat.

As for Jay, the best way I can describe what I saw is that they made him a shell of himself so they can fill in a departure story from there. He had almost no emotion, no opinion. He let Voight get away with stuff he never would have before. And now they can use that to fill in the lines of "he's changing me, I have to leave". It's abrupt and not well developed, and it doesn't seem like we are going to revisit it until he is saying goodbye.

[lewisyellowhelmet]

feel so close

summary: lewis hamilton x reader

You meet Lewis at the club after the Las Vegas launch.

content: 18+!!!! general m/f sex acts. established relationship. let me know if u want anything else flagged!

word count: 1k+

You’re late, flights and traffic and the heady crush of Vegas. By the time you’re pushing through the club, your phone is a mess of texts and calls from Lewis, each more garbled by the last. He’s started just sending you your own name in capitals and a strange string of emojis, heavily featuring hearts and dancing figures. You give your name to the burly man guarding the VIP section, and then there’s an assistant leading you through the maze of dancers and sponsors and various people from the launch until you’re bursting out between a group to Lewis, a pink drink in his hand matching the flush on his cheeks.

 You see his mouth form your name, can’t hear him over the music, laugh as he crushes you into his chest. He’s lost his jacket, smells like sweat and vodka and cologne, the drink dangerously close to tipping down your back as he nuzzles into the side of your face.

 “Here you are!” Lewis is saying, and you know you’re missing parts of sentences as he stumbles back from you and then close again, a dopey grin on his face and eyes glazed. He looks so happy. It makes your chest fill up, all full and content, pleased that he’s pleased.

 “Here I am,” you tell him, gratefully take the drink he’s offering a try of. It’s sweet and strong, fizzing on your tongue. People move around you in one big pull and push, dancing and talking and laughing. You’re aware of people calling him, trying to tug him away, get his attention, but Lewis is centred on you, urging you to finish his drink, torn between trying to kiss you again and find you your own cocktail.

 By the bar, you have to turn away from him, let his face find your jaw, neck.

   “Stop,” you say, pushing his face away, but he just licks over your palm, laughing, and there’s no bite to your scolding. It’s dangerous to be like this, so many people around, anyone could see. You want to keep this to yourself, just for a bit longer, this special, private thing with him. But then you’re taking a tequila shot, licking the salt off Lewis’ wrist and sucking on a lime, leaning into the hot press of his body, and nothing really matters anymore.

 The night takes on the heady blur of intoxication and the joy of being surrounded by people having a good time, the pound of music, Lewis’s arm slung around you as he introduces you to his friends. Everyone knows who you are already, tease him and hug you, and you feel yourself falling into the group, enveloped within them, already a part of it. You love Lewis like this, drunk and lazy and happy, stupid dance moves and this big, lovely grin on his face, shining eyes. Up on the stage with him, jumping and laughing and letting your body do whatever it wants to do, carried by the familiar thump of club hits. Every so often, you catch people holding phones up, pointing, filming, but the liquor has kicked in, and Lewis is so happy, it’s easy to look away, let him drag you in, let him grind into you and lick into your mouth. He shoves his cap on your head, insists on taking what must be an incredibly badly lit photo of you on his phone. The black material of his t-shirt clings to him, skin shining with sweat and joy and your touch. The night runs on and you lose yourself to it, the music, the laughter, the friends, and Lewis, grinning at you, never not beside you.

 Time isn’t anything. Nothing is real. The lights flash blue and purple and green and you’re anonymous and Lewis is no one. Just you and him. Moving to the beat, pressed in close, skin sliding. Everything is electrically perfect. A sliding, dizzy moment that goes impossibly on and on. You feel intrinsically connected to everyone in the room. Lewis takes a shot and licks the chaser out of your mouth. You surrender to it, to him, to everything.

Saying goodbye, hugging everyone you can see, trying not to blush under the knowledge that you’re going back with Lewis, that everyone knows, that he’s chosen you, he wants you. You can feel people watching, knowing, seeing, but it feels good, like this, pride. His big arm around around your shoulders, his hat on your head, the way he rubs his face on yours. You want to devour him. Lick the salt off his skin, the alcohol out of his mouth, hold him down and watch him come apart. He keeps looking at you with this heavy, dazed look, like he’s already there in his head.

 The hotel is just down the Strip, the fresh air cool on your cheeks as you hurry down the street, bumping into each other, tripping on nothing and laughing too loud. At somewhere past the half way point, Lewis guides you into an alley, the shadow of a building, gets you between his body and the wall, kisses you until you can’t think, can’t speak. He makes lovely, soft sounds into your mouth, has his big hand around your throat, the other spanning your waist, holding you to him so you can feel where he’s hard against your belly.

 “You make me,” Lewis is panting, pausing between words to kiss you again, like he can’t put a thought together without it, “I don’t fucking know what it is. Crazy. Make me crazy.”

 “You’re drunk,” you tell him, even as the words feel big and lazy in your mouth from your own intoxication.

 “Doesn’t matter,” he says, kisses you again, licking behind your teeth, laughs when he steps away and you sway forward, grasping for him.

 “Come on,” Lewis says, tugging you back out into the street, “We gotta get back before I lose it and just fuck you on the street.”

You barely notice the hotel room, it’s dark shapes and the floor to ceiling windows. You feel innocent in a strangely lovely way, wiped clean, stood by the bed with him, undressing, giggling, stumbling out of socks. Lewis is hard and flushed, standing off his body, a silhouetted figure in the city lights, the wide span of his shoulders, angles of his hips, muscles of his legs.

 “Fuck,” you say, just looking at him, laugh at your own delight, let him wrestle you onto the bed, clumsy and warm and pretending to get away and not wanting to at all.

 Lewis is drunk, and endearingly so. Clumsy in a way he isn’t, usually, and so ready to laugh and tease and kiss. Rubs his hands down your body, spreads your legs for him so he can lick hot and wet, spit into the centre of you. Your fingers twist into his hair, his eyes half lidded looking up your body. Folds his arms over your hips so you can’t move, steady movement of his tongue over you and into you. The alcohol numbs sound, thoughts, embarrassments, so you don’t care when you groan, writhe up into his arms, pull at his hair. Everything is so overwhelming in the best way, feeling him drool over you, bite at the inside of your thighs and tell you how good you taste, how he can’t wait to get in you.

 Giggling as he crawls up your body, kneeling on you accidentally, his hasty apology, brow furrowed with concern until you smooth it out. His cock is throbbing against your belly, leaking wet on your skin.

 “It’s okay,” you tell him, for the third time, taking him into your hand so he keens and curls over into your neck, laving his tongue over the tendon in your throat. You thumb over the head, just to hear the sweet, wounded sound he makes, vibrating into your skin. Notching him where you’re open and wet from his mouth, the blunt tip of him pushing through, spreading you.

 “Oh, God, oh, God, Lewis, fuck,” you say, head tossed back into the pillows, Lewis’ forehead pressed to yours so you can swallow his breath as he sinks home, groans into you. It feels like he’s touching every part of you, everywhere, his body laid out over yours, his cock so deep, taking you, having you. You want to cry, dragging him into a kiss, biting at him.

 It’s messy and fast and feverish, one leg over his shoulder as he fucks into you, harsh snaps of his hips that you feel all over, no need to be quiet, no need to slow it down. His rhythm is sloppy, but it only makes it more addictive, more overwhelming, knowing he wants it so bad, that he wants you so bad.

 “Baby, you feel so good, fucking. Amazing,” Lewis says, his body slick with sweat, his breathing shallow and raspy, and he’s grinning, laughing, eyes all crinkled up and teeth white and sharp. You tangle your hand in his hair, wrap yourself up in him, come with a shout, delirious and drunk and vibrating with the joy of it all.

 He fucks you through it, trying to hold himself steady, his chain dragging over your collarbones, but his hand is a fist in the sheets beside your head, his chest heaving.

 “I’m,” he says, but he’s coming already, rutting into you, jaw slack and eyes screwed shut, moaning all ragged and breathless.

 “Fuck,” he pants into your mouth, hips jerking through the aftershocks, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s heavy and solid above you, still kissing you, smoothing your hair off your damp face. You blink up at him, smiling so big your face hurts.

Things are spinning but Lewis is at the centre, sprawled out on the bed with you, a tangle of white sheets and limbs. His big hand anchored on your belly, insisting on lying all pressed up against you despite the heat of your bodies. He keeps laughing at nothing, and when you ask why he smiles this soft, secret way and says, “I’m just happy.”

[cacklefrendly]

movie 26 in a nutshell

Kir at Maximum Cozy for nearly 2 hours

Vodka Intimidation Tactics (sponsored by Doc Martens)

STOP GIVING YOUR MOST AUTISTIC WARRIORS A BUDGET

and most importantly,

"i forgor"

[eurosleazarchive]

2002 is gonna be my year

[firehousefreak911]

Sober

Its not the best.

Tw- alcohol, sex, language

You had met this guy one day when leaving your sponsors house. You don’t know what made you so intrigued by him. But you made sure to ask about him the very next time you saw Bobby.

Bobby was a little reluctant to tell you anything about him, but Athena seemed to think it would be beneficial to the both of you.

So now here you were sitting at a coffee shop waiting for this attractive gentleman.

“Y/n?” You heard as the man approached the table.

“Hi, Eddie” you stood up to greet him.

“You look beautiful” he said. You could tell he was more of a quiet type, and that by complimenting you he was saying a lot.

“Thank you” you said. The two of you sat in the coffee shop and talked for hours. You talked about everything under the sun.

“Oh crap, is it really 3:30?” Eddie said checking his phone.

“Oh wow” you replied.

“I have to go pick up my son, maybe we could meet up again soon”

A few months had passed, you were getting a 1 year sobriety chip and you had invited Eddie to come. He asked you to come by his house and he would drive. He said he also really wanted you to meet Christopher. He didn’t think he could wait any longer without it happening. You 2 had made it official about 2 months prior.

You walk up the walk way to the door. You were greeted by a cute blonde haired boy.

“Y/n?” He said smiling.

“Well you must be Christopher!” You said.

“Yep! Dad Y/n is here!” He yelled into the house. He led you in.

“We made you something!” He cheered.

“Oh really!?” You asked.

Eddie came out of the kitchen holding a cake that read “we are proud of you”. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Chris chose what to write” Eddie said, setting the cake down on the table.

He walked over and kissed your cheek.

“Well I love it” you said.

“Dad can we eat cake now?” Chris begged. Eddie cut him a piece. You sat in a chair as close to Eddie as possible at the table. You laid your arm on his thigh and he wrapped his arm around you.

“We really are proud of you” he whispered.

“You don’t know how much that means to me” you said leaning your head back.

Just then the front door opened.

“I’m here” a voice you haven’t heard in a years filled your ears.

“In here” Eddie called.

A man walked into the room.

“Evan?” You asked.

“Y/n?” He looked at you wide eyed.

“You two know each other” Eddie asked.

“Yeah um I’ve got to go” you said jumping up and leaving.

“Wait, what about your meeting?” Eddie called after you.

You were already to the door. When you go to your car you called Bobby and cried to him about everything.

Eddie tried calling your phone several times until you turned it off. You couldn’t face him. You were laying on the couch staring at the bottle of vodka. Even after talking to Bobby you still stopped by the liquor store on the way home.

You heard a knock at the door. You moaned and got up to answer it. Eddie was on the other side.

“I’ve been calling you for hours. What going on? Why did you leave?” Eddie asked.

“Because I didn’t think you would want anything to do with my after knowing that I slept with your best friend. Evan or Buck whatever you call him, we used to sleep together” You said

“Listen Buck told me everything. It was a long time ago. Back when you were both different people: it’s not like feelings were involved. Not like it is for me and you” he said brushing your hair out of your face.

“So your not mad?” You asked.

As an answer he just leaned in and kissed you. He spotted what you hoped he wouldn’t.

“Why is their a bottle of vodka on your counter?” He asked.

“I didn’t drink any. Just more of a reminder” you said.

“How about we get you to a meeting and get you that 1 year chip then come back here and watch a movie?” Eddie said.

“That would be good, thank you for everything” you said burying your head in his chest.