#‌How Does Tonsillitis Feel?

[tiercel]

W/ all the reactionary talk regarding trans peoples bodies and shit i would love to see repubs and tεrves reactions to all the fascinating body modifications that exist for aesthetic and fetish purposes

[peachesofteal]

18+ noncon, Simon drugs you/her, somnophilia

Girl who takes herself to her favorite coffee shop on the corner to post up with her laptop and a latte.

They serve them in those big ceramic mugs she likes. The white ones that seem so wide you could take a bath in them. Filled to the brim with an unbroken layer of foam on top, she always appreciates when the barista takes the extra time to draw her a quick little design. Makes her feel seen, special, almost.

She always sits a corner, headphones in, typing away on whatever it is she’s working that week, barely away of the comings and goings around her.

She doesn’t notice anyone, and no one notices her.

It’s perfect, really.

Until one morning when she attracts the wrong kind of attention.

It starts with the cup being just a tad too full, balancing on its saucer, ceramic trembling in her fingers. The shop is busy, and someone at the long table in the middle fails to look over his shoulder, sliding backwards in his chair to stand. Hot espresso and milk splashes down her chest, her shirt, and she gasps, sizzling pain shocking the breath from her body.

“Oh shit,” the man starts, turning to face her, hands out and frantic. It’s quiet now, eyes in the room fixed on her, watching, waiting, expecting a civilized reaction. They want her to say ‘oh that’s alright, it was an accident’ or ‘no harm no foul, it happens’ something like that, effectively releasing the burden of shame hanging over the perpetrator.

But, alas. She’s not the one.

“Oh shit?” She rolls her eyes. “You just made me spill my fucking coffee all over myself, and your response is oh shit?” If it was quiet in the coffee shop before, it’s pin drop worthy now.

She expects the man to back down. To cower, start stuttering a profuse apology. That, or the other option, the one where they get defensive, enraged, emotions running wild at the idea of being challenged.

The man does neither of these things. He crosses his arms and cocks his head, sizing her up like he forgot to eat dinner last night and she’s his next meal. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. “Are you going to let me finish, little spitfire?” Jesus Christ. She shoots him the nastiest glare she can conjure, then turns on her heels.

Fuck that guy.

Simon likes himself a little spitfire. A little piece of c4 in his hand, his finger on the trigger. Likes a girl with fight in her, one that scratches, that yells.

His cock aches thinking about how she’d howl under him, face screwed up with rage, salty, sweaty slick pooling between her legs. He’d jam his thigh right in that spot, and order her to rub her pussy against the grain of his jeans until she was cumming on them. He wants to hear her gag on his finger as he scratches her tonsils with it, pressing down on her tongue, forcing her teeth wide, testing.

So, of course, he does the thing he knows he’s not supposed to do. He’s got some time, some leave, plenty of time to hunt his prey and set a snare, a rope around her ankle, stringing her up like a pretty precious offering.

She’s got a nice home. It’s small, one story, windows open with the breeze. The curtains wave with the wind, exposing slivers of her living room, kitchen, bedroom. She putters around the house for a while before the lights go dark, noise of the street enough to drown out the sound of his knife surgically cutting an opening in a screen.

Once the window is open, it’s over. There’s no match, no matter how explosive she is, there’s no him vs her. It’s just him, with her underneath, throat clogged by his cock.

Probably not tonight. Tonight, he’s going to peel her free from the top sheet and jab a needle into her ass to push diprivan, enough to keep her loose and sweet, trapped in sleep long after he leaves. She’ll be more than groggy when she wakes again, chalking it all up to some sort of dream.

She takes it so easy too. Doesn’t fuss. Barely stirs when he rubs a hand over the fat of her hips, squeezes the flesh for his needle. She gasps in her sleep, brow furrowed, listlessly drifting away.

The first thing he does is roll her to her back. She sleeps naked, a pleasant surprise, muscles soft as he pushes her knees to her chest, exposing her cunt to his hungry eyes. He’s only supposed to look, to inspect, but he can’t help pulling a glob of spit from his cheeks to the tip of his tongue, letting it drip down in a long drop, oozing onto her clit.

“Pretty pet.” He murmurs, gloved finger stroking through her folds, fingertip barely pushing against her hole, sliding down to feel the tight furl between her cheeks. “Perfect little holes f’me, eh? Tight little things you’ve got.” Maybe she’s never been fucked before. Too much acid in her blood to bend or break for anyone. He buzzes with the idea that no one has ever had a cock, or anything, inside her, and spits again, this time a bigger wad, bubbles and all, thick and viscous. “Let’s check little spitfire.” He presses inside her, working his finger in easy strokes, feeling her walls, the heated clutch of her cunt. There’s resistance there, a flimsy, thin barrier separating him and the rest of her, his chuckle dangerous in the dark. It’s tempting to take it right now, but he’d rather watch her face when it happens so he can see the moment she realizes, when he ruins her, when he rips through her purity and makes her his own.

He unzips his pants, fisting his cock, precum already beaded at the tip and dripping, coating his palm as he pumps. She moans, like she knows somehow. It’s a high pitched, breathy thing, one that rattles his bones. He answers with a thumb on her clit, pressing, circling, still stroking himself, indulging in her shudders, the jerking of her legs as she she climbs to her climax.

He wants it at the same time. Wants to paint her pussy with his cum when she explode into hers, wants to do it together. As he gets close, he works both himself and her furiously, waiting for that moment when her muscles will go rigid and her pussy will flutter.

When it hits, he follows, white spend shooting up over her belly to her breasts, almost too much to be believed. It’s a mess, really, and he doesn’t want to leave her like this. Too obvious.

He takes his time licking her clean, filling his mouth with his own cum, holding it against his teeth, under and over his tongue. He breathes through his nose until he’s satisfied he got it all, and then sticks a thumb between her teeth, prying her jaw wide-

so he can spit it, drool it, into her unsuspecting mouth, letting it drip to the back of her throat, white sticky load of spit and cum coating her tonsils, her teeth, her tongue.

See you tomorrow.

[forlix]

"better, now."

words・749 / pairing・hyunjin x gn!stylist!reader / includes・fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption / note・an extremely self-indulgent kinda emo take on hyunjin @ vfw. takes place in the crying lightning universe.

Hyunjin is gone.

He stopped walking and started floating about five drinks ago, bode farewell to coherent sentences and his eyesight not too long after. Simply kept plucking flutes of champagne off trays carried around by kindred waiters and let himself bask in the glorious evening.

When his stylist shows up in front of him, he mistakes them for the moon.

Gentle hands push strands of sweaty hair out of his eyes, then move to cup his cheeks fondly, protectively, as if imprinting final touches into a snow angel. He watches your lips form his name from mere centimeters away, but the sound of it seems to travel underwater.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, more audibly this time, a lick of crisp night air cutting through the afterparty’s steamy throng.

He proceeds to melt into you in ways he cannot currently control, sliding a hand over the one you have on the side of his face, fingertips dipping in the slots between yours. Bringing you close enough to him that your chest moulds right against his. Grinning at you with a sickening sweetness that he can taste on his own mouth.

“Hi,” he replies.

“You okay? How are you?” You inquire. “Do you need anything?”

“Hi,” he says again, because he can’t really think of anything else, and that seems to be answer enough.

Before he knows it, he’s walking somewhere, guided only by the arm that he has slung over your shoulders and your silhouette, just barely discernible in the dim venue, which he would follow to the ends of the earth.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he’s standing in the doorway of an unoccupied lounge. The tables of polished mahogany and gold foil have become graveyards of empty wine glasses, but the couch in the middle of the room has been left pristine.

Only after he sits down does the lightheadedness hit, and it hits hard, hard enough to shut his eyes and furrow his brow. His brain swings around the inside of his skull like a pendulum.

There is a delicate brush of your finger against his chin, your quiet request for him to lift it up, and then something hard and cold comes to rest on his lower lip. Water surrounds his tonsils and slips down his throat. A few stray rivulets escape down the side of his neck, then disappear into the napkin that you have pressed upon the skin.

By the time he’s downed the whole glass, he can feel his wits beginning to return—with them, the rest of his senses. His eyes crack open again.

“Hot,” he whispers. “It’s hot.”

You move your hands to his shoulders. Moments later, his jacket is a leather mass over the back of the couch, and he feels his dizziness subside, his oxygen return. 

“Better?”

With the music so far away, he hears the concern in your tone with crystalline clarity. He leans over to press his lips to the underside of your jaw, conveying a silent message: better, now.

He didn’t have plans to spend the night backstage, but the premise seems riveting where he comes to lie. His head nestled in the plush of your lap, the rest of him stretched across the sofa, your hand carding through his hair with the soporific lull of a mellow tide.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles suddenly, and you look down at him, confused.

“For?”

“Getting so drunk.”

If your hand is the tide, your laugh is the sand, warm and ubiquitous and all-consuming. “You had a good time, yeah?”

A good time. What an understatement for the maelstrom of feeling still raging on within him, the happiness and disbelief and pride and gratitude to himself, to you. To us.

“The best,” he answers.

“That’s all that matters, then,” you hum, your thumb dusting over his hairline. “You deserve to celebrate.”

He’s still too drunk to really think, but he doesn’t have to think when it comes to you—just knows in the very wellsprings of his soul all the love you’ve woven into the thing you’re about to say, by the infinitesimal softening of your eyes alone.

“You deserve everything, baby.”

He lifts your wrist to his lips, presses a kiss to your pulse. Above him, your features blur, then come back into focus. His answer is so soft that he almost can’t hear it over the warble of his heartbeat and the descent of his tears.

“I’ve got it right here.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[tojipie]

Toji comforting a sick reader (seasonal cold-ish?) he’s not very good at it,but you can tell he’s trying by making tea and stuff and being softer then he normally is.Idk I just need comforting Toji 😭

content: established relationship, airhead toji, fluff

toji’s definition of being sick was a little unorthodox, to put it mildly.

colds were just not a thing in zenin household, especially for the black sheep of the family. if you were “sick” that meant being you were dead or nearing death. not a sore throat and some congestion.

toji would have gotten a slap across the face for skipping out on a day's work because he had the sniffles, “the weak link” as his dad liked to put it.

being anything except the pinnacle of health was out of the question growing up, and with time, his association of what “being sick” was gravitated further and further away from what was normal.

so when you first come down with a cold, the poor guy doesn’t even clock it at first.

toji watches you emerge from your shared bedroom at an impressive 2 o’clock in the afternoon, eyes rimmed red with a throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“sleep good?” he asks, clearly amused. the pounding in your head nearly drowns out the question. not wearing a jacket in 30° weather for the sake of showing off your outfit last night was probably not the greatest idea.

you don’t entertain his teasing as you flip the electric kettle on, grabbing 2 tea bags from the overhead pantry. something to soothe your raging tonsils. toji cracks open a bottle of water for you, passing it over with a hum.

the sip of water you try to down does nothing to help your sore throat. an ugly, phlegmy cough wracks your chest without warning, sending you into a doubled-over position.

toji pats your back lovingly as air fights to re-enter your lungs. the force of the coughs rubs your throat even more raw, if that was even possible.

“shit, you okay?” he asks, still unaware as ever.

you unflatteringly blow your nose into a tissue before answering him, cringing at how dry your lips still feel.

“something like that,” you mumble. voice raw and crackly. “do you know where the thermometer is?”

toji looks around from his spot at the counter, scratching the back of his head.

“no, why? you overheated or something?”

you stand there dumbfounded for about a second before firing back. overheated? you felt like death itself.

“i have a cold you moron.”

his mouth slowly parts into an “oh” as the realization washes over him. feeling under the weather was probably a bigger deal to you than it was for someone raised in what was essentially a prison.

“oh, baby,” he mumbles, reaching toward you with outstretched arms. a firm palm rubs between the plains of your shoulder bones, warming you from the outside. “feeling under the weather huh?” he coos.

you nod, already dozing off in his warm embrace. a shrill beep from the electric kettle lets you know that your water is ready.

toji quickly puts a hand out, ushering behind him.

“go back to bed sweet girl i’ll make your tea.”

bonus thought: he has to remake the tea twice because he dips the bags into the still-boiling water and they explode every time

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 4

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

This chapter is a bit longer so I hope you all like it. I'll admit did write a lot of this while I was at work lol

Chapter 4

“Sorry you had to wait for so long in our office during the meeting.” Changbin apologizes again as they sit in the waiting area of the doctors office. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” She smiles at him while she’s filling out the paperwork given to her by the receptionist. 

Chan can’t help but to glance down at it as she writes the answers to each of the medical questions. 

The normal of her date of birth, which he now knows she’s younger than Jeongin by a few months. When she presented which was when she was seventeen, a late presenter, not unheard of but uncommon. Any medical surgeries, she had her tonsils taken out as an infant. 

He feels guilty for looking at her answers for the female section but he reassures himself that it’s because he wants to know if she’ll need anything while she’s with them. Her last menstrual cycle having been the week prior so he won’t have to worry about making sure she has those products. That would have been an embarrassing call to Hannah for help with that. 

When she gets to the omega portion he frowns as she hesitates with the answers. Her last heat cycle… was when she presented? Chan knows that omegas have two heats a year at first starting out, a few years after presenting it becomes three. He thought that maybe he’d have to worry about her having not made it to that third one a year yet with her having presented late, but he wasn’t expecting for her to not have had a heat in six years. 

“Y/n L/n.” An omega nurse calls for the girl before approaching the three. “Dr. Hajoon is running a little behind so she wants me to go ahead and take you to get your blood drawn so that the lab work can be ready by the time she’s ready to see you.” 

“O-okay.” Y/n stands up obviously nervous and Chan and Changbin both stand too. 

“Sorry, there isn’t enough room for both of you to join, but we shouldn’t be too long. I’ll have her back out momentarily.” The nurse explains before starting to lead the way. 

Y/n hesitates but follows the nurse after Chan and Changbin both give her a reassuring nod that she’ll be okay. If it weren’t for the nurse being an omega the two alphas probably wouldn’t have let the girl go by herself. 

“Bin?” Chan speaks up after the omegas are out of sight behind the doors leading to the back. “Did you happen to look at the paperwork she was filling out?” 

Changbin frowns, giving his alpha a confused look. “No? Did you? You know that's an invasion of privacy right?” 

“I know.” Chan sighs, closing his eyes. “I just couldn’t help myself, wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything concerning, ya know?” 

“And is there?” 

Chan pauses for a moment before looking at Changbin. “She wrote down that her last heat was when she had first presented, about six years ago.” 

“What? How is that possible?” Changbin sits forward then looks confused when Chan pulls his phone out. “What are you doing?” 

“Texting Lix.” The older alpha brings up the betas contact as Changbin scoots over to see what is said. 

Channie Alpha♥️ Lixie baby, I need you to do Changbin and I a favor please. 

Lixie Baby🩵 Of course, anything 

Channie Alpha♥️ I need you to go into the room Y/n’s staying in. And look at her nest that you made for her.   

Lixie Baby🩵 Okay? 🤨

What about the nest? 

Channie Alpha♥️ Does it look any different from yesterday?

Lixie Baby🩵 It just looks slept in, why?

Channie Alpha♥️ It doesn’t look like she changed it at all? Everything's how you had placed it?

Lixie Baby🩵 No 🥺 everythings exactly how I had done it 

Channie Alpha♥️ Thank you baby, that’s all I needed

Lixie Baby🩵 Can I ask why you took her to see Dr. Hajoon? 

Channie Alpha♥️ You shouldn’t be stalking our location Lix. Minho just had some concerns he wanted us to get checked out is all. We’ll be home right after, I promise. Love you 

Lixie Baby🩵 Love you too 💕

“What does her not changing how Lix made her nest have anything to do with all of this?” Changbin finally asks after Chan puts his phone away. 

“When Lucas presented Felix had sent Olivia over to help him understand his omega tendencies.” Chan starts to explain. “The main thing they went over was nesting, it comes naturally to an omega but it’s different for everyone. She had said that the way she nests and the way Felix nests is completely different. So if an omega were to make a nest for another omega, the latter would still change it up a bit to make it more suitable for themselves. The only time it doesn’t happen is a communal nest because normally all of the omegas in the pack would build the nest together.”

“So Y/n’s omegas tendencies should have kicked in and she would have changed up the nest a bit to be more comfortable for her, but she didn’t.” Changbin repeats to make sure he’s understanding correctly as he doesn’t have any omega family members and Chan nods in confirmation. “So that and the lack of a heat for the last six years, how is that possible?” 

“The only thing I know that can cause someone to not have a heat is suppressants.” Chan hisses. “But it doesn’t suppress their other omega tendencies. And it’s only until you stop taking the suppressants…” 

“Meaning she never stopped taking them?” Changbin nods but then frowns.” Wait, I thought you guys said she didn’t have anything with her besides a car when you found her?”

“Yeah. She didn’t even have shoes. And I think I would have noticed if she grabbed a pill bottle at all.” Chan thinks back to the day before.

“Is she maybe not an omega?”

Chan gave Changbin an are you kidding me look. “Have you not smelled her? She’s an omega.” Then he thinks about what he overheard Minho and Jeongin say. “Though Min said he felt as though her scent isn’t fully there, which makes sense.” 

“Is it possible to not be a full omega?” Changbin pounders. “Like how Felix acts like one when he’s a beta. Could it be the opposite with her?” 

“I’m not sure.” Chan looks up as he smells Y/n walk back out into the waiting area, her uninjured arm taped from the blood draw. “But we’re gonna need to find out.” 

Y/n gives them as much of a convincing smile as she possibly can but they can tell from her scent that she didn’t have a pleasant experience. 

“You okay Y/nnie?” Changbin scoots away from Chan so she can sit back down between them.

“Yeah.” She nods and sits down. “Just don’t really like hospitals, especially being alone in one.”

“I’m sorry you had to go back there alone.” Chan places his hand on hers. “I promise we’ll be with you when Dr. Hajoon is ready to see you. She knows that we don’t like letting omegas go alone.”

She nods and takes comfort in knowing that they’ll be joining her in the examination room. 

After what felt like an hour but was more like fifteen minutes, a beta doctor with a clipboard of papers walks out and smiles at the three of them.

“Chris, Changbin.” The two stand and hug her before she turns and looks at Y/n. “And this must be the… omega… you told me about, Chris?”

“Yes, this is Y/n.” Chan smiles, placing a hand on the small of her back, all of them having taken notice of her hesitance to say her sub-gender. “Thank you so much for getting us in so quickly.”

“It’s no problem.” She turns back to Y/n once again. “It’s nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Dr. Hajoon. Let’s get you back to the examination room, I have your paperwork as well as the notes my nurse wrote down from getting your height and weight before you had your blood drawn. Are you okay with the alpha’s joining us?”

“Y-yeah.” The omega nods. “I would prefer that they do.”

“I had assumed so.” Hajoon nods and leads the three of them through the doors to the back. 

Once in the room Chan helps Y/n up on the examination table before sitting with Changbin in the seats and Hajoon grabs the stool while looking over the paperwork with a frown. 

“Alright, based on your paperwork I do have a few concerns but that is stuff that can wait until the end when we’re just discussing everything else and going over your blood work.” She starts off and sanitizes her hands before grabbing gloves. “I’m more worried about the wounds Chris told me about, can I take a look?”

Y/n rolls the sleeve up of the shirt she borrowed from Hannah’s closet to show the bruising on her wrist and the bandage on her upper arm. 

“Was it Minho who patched you up?” Hajoon smirks when the omega nods yes. “I figured, he’s the caretaker type.”

Changbin snorts. “Don’t let Min hear you say that.” 

The beta peels the bandage off her arm revealing more bruising and a deep gash. She inspects it, cleaning it a bit causing Y/n to hiss in pain a little. The two alphas shift in their seats wanting to protect the omega but knows the doctor is just doing what she needs. 

“Luckily it isn’t too deep. It looks like Minho did well in cleaning it but I’m seeing some early signs of infection, something he wouldn’t have been able to recognize.” Hajoon explains and rubs a topical ointment before bandaging it back up. “I’m gonna prescribe an ointment and antibiotics to take until it’s healed. As well as a bruise relief cream.” 

“Thank you.” Y/n whispers. 

“Chris had also mentioned bruising on your side and possible broken ribs?” 

“Yeah, that was Minho's main concern.” Chan speaks up again. “He wrapped her torso to help relieve any pain she may be in but we need to know if anything’s broken.” 

“Do you mind taking your shirt off?” The doctor asks and notices the girl's hesitancy. “If you want we can shut the curtain.” 

“It’s okay.” Y/n whispers and lifts up her shirt taking it off. 

Hajoon starts unwrapping her torso and it’s when she hears both Chan and Changbin growl that she knows the bruising is visible for all. She has the omega lay down on her back so she can feel her ribs for any breaks which causes the omega to hiss at some of the more sensitive bruising. 

“I don’t think you have any broken ribs.” The doctor explains. “Does it hurt at all to breathe?”

“No.” Y/n hisses again as the doctor touches another tinder spot. “But the prodding and poking does.” 

“Sorry.” The beta moves away from the table. “You can go ahead and put your shirt back on. But I do have to ask how these injuries happened?”

“I fell down a flight of stairs.” Y/n doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as she shrugs her shirt back okay.

“Hmm… before Chris and the betas found you, where were you living? Did you have a pack?”

“I was still living with my family pack.” This saddens Chan, thinking that her family might have done this to her.

“Another question I just have to ask as a part of my normal spiel. Do you feel safe?”

“Yeah.” The omega nods. “I do now at least.” 

Dr. Hajoon’s smartwatch goes off and she looks at it before turning to the computer in the room. “Your blood work came back so we can discuss the other concerns I have about your weight and lack of a heat.” 

Y/n glances at the two alphas to see their reactions but their expressions are neutral. 

The beta’s looks over the lab results and sighs before giving the omega a sad look.

“Did you know what it was?” Y/n gives a sad nod yes. “Did you get them done willingly?”

“My family forced me.” She mumbles playing with her hands.

“Forced what?” Chan cut’s in, sitting forward in the chair looking pissed.

Hajoon puts her hand up towards Chan as she continues looking at Y/n. “Besides your heats and scent, what else did it affect? And how often did you get them?”

“All of my omega tendencies.” She bows her head. “Every month since after my first heat.”

Chan grits his teeth not liking the sound of this conversation as he doesn’t fully know what's going on.

“Is it okay if I tell your alphas about it? That is if they promise not to lash out.” She eyes the two males until Y/n nods her head yes and waits for Chan and Changbin to also agree and once they do she sighs. 

“Her blood work came back positive for a suppressant injection. It isn’t like normal pill suppressants that can help postpone a heat, or a scent suppressor, it suppresses everything omega about her and even her appetite, why she’s underweight too. Why my nurse and I both were confused by her scent at first, we both smell a beta from her. These injections aren’t illegal but most refuse to practice with it because of the severity. It normally lasts up to thirty to forty days before needing another injection.”

“How do we smell her like an omega then?” Changbin speaks as Chan’s trying to keep calm. 

“The only way for anyone to smell a person's true sub-gender through a suppressant is if they are their fated mate.” Chan and Changbin’s jaws both drop. “You guys wouldn’t know you were fated mates though because of the suppressant, your alpha’s aren’t fully smelling her to tell you like normal. To you guys it seems as though her scent isn’t fully there.”

Chan and Chanbin both look at Y/n in awe now.

“So what do we need to do about the last injection she was given?” Chan leans forward and grabs Y/n’s hand to both help comfort her for what's about to be said and keep him from lashing out.

“Her blood work shows little traces of it, meaning it’s almost out of her system.” Hajoon looks back at the computer. “I would say in a few days her omega tendencies will start to return and she should restart her heat cycle. Though this first one will be a dry heat.”

“Dry heat?”

“A dry heat is when the body is not ready to reproduce or prepare for reproduction. Occurs when the omega is in a bad physical condition, mental state, or environment. When Omegas are in unsafe environments, examples; physical, mental, or emotional abuse, no pack bonds or mate, unfamiliar location, lots of stress or anxiety, which from what I can guess is a lot of what she’s been put through plus the suppressant, it’s bound to happen. It’s usually painful. Alters the body and shuts down all biological functions involved in reproduction and is not healthy but unavoidable this time. Dry heats can last anywhere from two to seven days. You guys will need to do a lot to help her during it. Take her to her nest or den. Do NOT leave her alone. Keep her hydrated, fed, and someone needs to maintain physical contact at all times. If the dry heat worsens, take her to the nearest hospital. Symptoms of it are haziness, cramps, separation anxiety, headaches, fearfulness, high emotions or extremely emotionless, distressed scent. I’ll have it all written down for you guys.”

“And… and what if I don’t have a dry heat, or any heat?” The omega fears.

“If you don’t go through one within a week, come back and we’ll try and figure out what's going on.” She reassures her as she types on the computer. “I’m sending in your prescriptions as well as setting you up with a therapist and psychologist. With what you’ve been through maybe we can get you on medication that can help with your mental health. They’re located in the same office as the two Jisung sees so I’ll see about getting you in at the same time as his so you both can just go together.”

“Thank you again for everything.” Chan stands up still holding the omega’s hand and helps her off the table.

“Anytime Chris, I’m always just a call away if you guys need anything.” She hands Changbin the papers with all the information they need. “Keep me updated.”

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[dark-and-kawaii]

♡⟡˙⋆ His ⋆˙⟡♡

♡ Dark Content

♡ You look so good on your knees for them ~

Traitor Zevlor, but it’s him with his nails digging into your scalp. Guiding your head up and down his ridged cock, fucking your throat until you are choking… Until you have tears running down those pretty cheeks of yours while gagging.

It hurts and burns but he moans your name so beautifully, so feral like that it’s makes your eyes roll back as he thrusts into your mouth one final time before holding you there. The smell of him, the taste, and his heat fill your senses. His cum is so warm, hot and thick. You can feel every inch of him sliding against your tongue, down your gullet, until your stomach is filled nicely.

“If you won’t bow to the Absolute, then you will bow to me.”

You want to say something, anything to make him understand. Make him understand that you already worshipped everything about him prior to his betrayal… But when you attempt, only a pathetic gargle leaves your throat, the vibrations massaging the head of his softening cock.

The sharp end of his tail creeps up your shirt and with one good tug of it, he rips it open, exposing your chest. He chuckles and leans down.

“Dont be frightened, my darling. I will show you how good my love can really be, unlike before when I was the timid leader of the tieflings .”

Rolan, but it’s him with his tail wrapped around your delicate neck, his cock threatening to cut off your air.

He knows the power he has over you, the way your body is pliant and weak in his grip. Maybe it’s because he just got done being smacked around by Lorroakan, maybe it’s because he’s so pent up with rage that he can hardly control himself, or maybe it is some dark, twisted desire he’s always had to claim you like this.

Your head feels so light, so dizzy, your vision blurring as he plunges his cock down your throat, moving your tonsils aside and wedging the head into the opening of your esophagus. Gagging and choking. Rolan can feel you try to break free but his hands and tail keep your knees pinned to the towers flooring.

“Always so greedy for more until you have it. You should be careful what you wish for, dear. I know you wanted a taste of me, but I can tell by the tears in your eyes that you might not be able to handle the whole thing.”

Rolan growls, his chest heaving with the force of his breath. He can feel you gagging on his cock, trying to get free. He can feel the panic rise in your body, the way you struggle and squirm and try to break free, “should I smack you around like Lorroakan does to me?”

You shake your head the best you can, the feeling of his tail around your neck making it hard to breathe. The way he has you pinned, the weight of him over you is suffocating. So why are you so wet? Why are you secretly wishing to see more of this side of him…?

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 8: Trouble

woAH WhATs THIs DoINg HeRE??? Well I mean, it does have Sunhinged in it, so it's still matching the theme

Word count: 994

Content Warning: suggestive themes, lots of smoochin and the likes

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

You know, you may not be the most well-traveled individual, but you'd argue you had your fair share of experience when it came to good places to make out. Bedrooms, cars, rooftops, dark corners of house parties, and so on. 

Admittedly, a supply closet was a first for you.

You think the added factor of being the Daycare's supply closet should also count for something. 

You were also making out with a robot, but that didn't get you points in the location category. Maybe in a whole hell of a lot of others though. Wow. Man, if the rest of the security team finds out about this they're never going to let you live it down. You think your co-occupant of the closet, might have similar beliefs.

"Friend~ you're gonna get us in trouble," Sun warns, though it's more a statement than a warning. You almost think he doesn't care at this point.

Good. Though, you can't let him get by with that statement. 

You break your latest kiss, putting a hand under his chin, smirk on your lips, "Sun, I don't think you're in anyway the one who has the right to say that. Especially not with how loud those fans of yours are."

"Well, they wouldn't be so loud if you weren't so, particular, Starlight," His words are in that usual cheerful tone but there's an edge to them.

"Particular?"

He nods once, "You seem to be so utterly determined to mark up my face with those, truthfully, pretty pretty lips of yours, and I have no choice but to return the favor."

"Sun," You coo.

"Friend."

Your fingers wrap around one of his rays before sharply pulling his face down to yours, "You're the one that dragged me in here in the first place."

And to your credit, you hadn't been expecting him to either. You'd been doing your usual patrol for this time of night, when all of the sudden you'd found yourself among the throughs of craft supplies.

You weren't exactly complaining about the situation you then found yourself in. Haveing been quickly lifted up to eye level, hands gripping your waist to help sit you on the shelf you were currently on. Hands which were still wandering your abdomen, having found access under your shirt and greedily soaking up the contact with your skin. Again, you weren't complaining.

"Did I?" He tilts his head, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb pressing down on your lower lip. Inspecting, scrutinizing. It makes you scoff internally.

"Mhm."

You feel him press down just a tad harder, "I'm afraid I don't recall such a thing. Are you sure you're feeling alright, friend?"

"Friend is a bold expression for someone you've been playing tonsil hockey with for the past ten minutes, Sunny," You pull back, wiping your mouth.

He's not impressed by your idiom, "Do you have to use such crude language?"

"Do you have to be so formal?"

He chuckles, "It's a force of habit, Sweetheart. But if it hurt your feelings I'm so very sorry for that."

"Oh I'm sure you-" There's a noise that starts to crackle to life. Your radio. Shit. 

"Hey, anybody been by the Daycare in a bit?"

You wait, hushing Sun when he starts to speak up. 

"Do something about your fans," You hiss.

His rays spin, "It's not something I have total control over, Sunshine."

Someone else answers, "Yeah, think ------- was supposed to swing by. All clear over there?"

Well now you don't have a choice, unless you want to risk someone walking over here and finding, this. 

You pray no one can hear the background noise surrounding you, "Yeah, all good. The Attendant wanted to show me some drawings. You know how he is," You can feel the irritation radiating off of him at that comment, you continue, "I'll be heading back in a few."

"Ten four."

The walkie stays dead after that. 

You relax with a sigh, "Christ."

"And thus you've proven my point," Sun says, matter of factly. 

You scoff, "Sure."

"If you weren't so insatiable, you might be on your way by now."

You call bullshit on that one. You could make up any excuse on the spot and the other guards would buy it. No one at this place cared that much. Your timing isn't the problem at all.

Rather, it's the issue of a closed supply closet having a very noticeable light on, which multiple times has caused curious eyes to come wandering closer. Leading to almost getting caught more than you'd ever like. 

You say as much.

"If you didn't insist on keeping the light on, we might be a little better off," You nod up to the dingy bulb, twirling the string around your finger for emphasis, "What's the matter, think the dimness isn't enough for you-"

Sun snatches your wrist, leering closer, "Lights. On."

You stare at each other; your eyes having widened just a fraction. His expression of course being essentially immobile save for maybe a twitch in one eye you might've imagined. You could never tell if you were just making it up when it seemed his eyes moved. 

His rays tick to one side. He's waiting. 

"Heard," You relent, and in doing so he releases you. 

There's a sharpness to his tone, you can't quite place it, "Wonderful."

You wait a moment. 

"Is that an all clear to continue or...?"

"You really need to get better about these things," Sun's hand rests on your cheek again with a sigh, "Your attractiveness just barely trumps your ability to kill the mood."

"And yet, here you are," You simper.

A click, he leans in closer, "That wasn't merely a suggestion."

"I know," You tip your head up, "But you're gonna have to do better than that. Tick, tock. Unless you really want to risk getting in trouble."

Knowing him, he can't resist that kind of challenge. 

All the better for you.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

You know, there was a fic like this once, and when I checked in on the sb fandom a year ago I found it was gone and that is part of the reason why Confused Spirit exists, shoutout to that author, you brain is/was massive, my other promtobers are here btw. They're not suggestive but some of them do have Sunhinged <3

edit: woke up in a cold sweat bc I realized that this was missing the first two paragraphs, if you saw it before the fix I’m so sorry 😭😭 anywho goodnight it is like 2 in the morning lmaooo

[harmonictechnicality]

thinking about Steve digging into a KFC bucket around Eddie, who is about to snap in half at the sight of it. Just seeing Steve Harrington sink his teeth into a chicken thigh, sucking on a drumstick bone, swallowing the most ungodly-sized bites he’s ever seen. His eyes are fucking locked on Steve’s lips that are extra shiny from all the grease. Eddie can’t even touch his own damn food because his stomach is in knots from this weirdly erotic and carnivorous circus act.

Steve smears the grease off with the back of his hand, staring hard at Eddie. “What?”

“Huh?”

Dumb. Idiotic. Why is Eddie suddenly experiencing the same level of flusteredness as the varsity cheer squad around this guy? It’s just Steve. Steve eating meat…

Thick, juicy, noisy meat in Steve’s mouth. His mouth that looks so-

“Dude, try some.” Steve waves a half-eaten chicken wing in front of Eddie’s face. He’s smiling as he chews, looks honest to god tipsy from how much he’s enjoying this meal.

Eddie shrugs, pops his knuckles to keep his hands busy. “Not hungry.”

Which is a big, fat lie. He is hungry. Thoroughly starving to see Steve in angles that are banned from biblical literature.

“Christ on toast, Harrington, close your mouth. I can see your fucking tonsils from here.” And yeah, that’s a problem too. Eddie could draw the inside of Steve’s mouth from memory by now. Could make himself a handy little diagram on how stuffed it could be if he just-

“Can’t help it.” Steve interrupts. He tears another piece of meat off and chomps as he speaks. Says something that actually breaks the last bit of dignity in Eddie’s soul. “It’s finger lickin’ good.”

Right, yup. Okay. Eddie is all impulses after that. His gaze drops to Steve’s slick hands. His ears only able to process words at a caveman baseline:

‘Finger. Lick. Good.’

Yeah. That does sound pretty good to him. Really good, actually.

So Eddie reaches across the table and takes Steve by the wrist. He opens his mouth, swirls Steve’s index finger over his tongue, sucking on it for way too long. Makes a loud slurping sound as he returns Steve’s hand back to him. He’s pretty sure Steve gasped at the contact, but couldn’t exactly focus on anything other than the taste of salt and grease and skin.

As Eddie sits back down in his chair, he examines Steve’s face. Red everywhere. Up his ears, down his neck. He isn’t moving either - like Eddie’s little stunt just paused all the muscles in his body or something.

He should run. Avoid getting beat up by a guy who’s a former jock. Besides, Eddie Munson is somewhat famous on cowardly shit like running away. It wouldn’t exactly be unheard of for him.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Takes a deep breath in. Smiles sweetly over at Steve, sweet enough to feel playful. Edging on mean.

“Looks like it wasn’t false advertising after all.” Eddie tosses the used napkin at him. Isn’t trying to make Steve flinch, but it happens anyways. “Finger lickin’ good is an understatement.”

“Understatement?” Steve studies his finger, the one Eddie just used like a jolly rancher, then smiles wide:

“Should be mandatory with you, Munson.”

[fandomnerd9602]

Hug Your Besties

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

For @supercorpdanbeau

Petra Parker was feeling on top of the world. She was number one in her academic career, the star player on the academic decathlon team, in second place was her boyfriend Flash Thompson, and she was an Avenger.

Well part time Avenger, as you would so eloquently tell her. You were her best superhero friend, the son of Tony Stark; codename - the Iron Knight.

True it was challenging sometimes and yes she did have to reschedule a date or two. But Petra was on top of the world.

How funny that can change. Petra was on her way to class when she saw something that shattered her whole demeanor. She turned a corner to find Flash Thompson making out with Petra’s blonde haired rival Liz Allen.

“Flash?!” Petra found herself practically screaming.

“Petra? It’s not what it looks like” Flash tried to cover.

“It looks like you’re checking tonsils with Liz” Petra turned around and tried to walk away, her heart was torn between angry beyond all belief and just flat out heartbreak.

“I have needs, Parker!” He tried to shout down the hallway towards the young web slinger.

Petra’s eyes were blurring with tears. So many that she didn’t notice the moment she ran into you.

“Yo webhead,” you chuckled, “where’s the fire?”

It was then that you noticed her tears. “Petra? What happened?! Who hurt you?!” You tried to get answers but you didn’t get any. She just ran down the hall and out the front door of the school.

Flash came running down the hallway. He stopped in front of you. Liz was mere feet behind him, smug and sure of herself. You put two and two together

“Have you seen Petra?” Flash tried to ask.

“Come near my best friend again and I’ll make sure your mother’s fired from her job” you shove him away.

“My mother doesn’t work for you,” he argued back.

You hold up your phone with a confirmation of your purchase of her company, “she does now.” And with that you turn and run after your pal, leaving Flash stone faced silent.

You flew all over the city. You couldn’t locate Petra. She wasn’t at the Empire State or the bodega or the top of the school.

You knew there was one last place. You called up Aunt May for confirmation. Petra had swung all the way home and crawled into her bed.

You flew by Stan’s Pizzeria and picked up her favorite pizza before flying off to her apartment.

Aunt May opened the door and gave you a sad smile. “She’s in her room, (Y/N). Thanks for coming over.”

You crept into Petra’s room, her sobs were loud and her porcelain face was red from all the crying.

“Hey bestie,” you whispered as you approached her.

“Hey” she replied halfheartedly. “I’m an idiot”

“How?” You join her on her bed.

“How could I ever believe that superstar Flash Thompson would ever date me? Probably just wanted me to give it to him”

“Full disclosure, guys can be jerks like that” you set the pizza before her.

“Not all guys” she gives you a weak smile, “thanks for the pizza”

You give her a side hug. Petra just about melts into your arms, little sobs escape her lips.

“Didn’t you have a date with Wanda?” She looks at you worried.

“I told her we’d have to delay a little. Besides she still needs to show Vision how to cook. Guy’s a walking Google app and he can’t cook to save his life”

Petra giggles and takes a bite of her delectable pizza treat. She rests against your chest and you wrap your arms around her.

Petra Parker is the incredible Spider Girl. But she’s also your best friend, partner and little did you know - future love of your life.

But as she looked on at the two of you, Aunt May knew. She knew in an instant.

Tags: @lifespectator @multi-fandom-enjoyer @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @henkermen @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @ma1egamer @family-house-of-m @dudesweet17 @jacenradio7 @julieromanoff

[hier--soir]

may + june + july reads

the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde by r. l. stevenson [★★★★]

"Though so profound a double-dealer, I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of me were in dead earnest; I was no more myself when I laid aside restraint and plunged in shame, than when I laboured, in the eye of day, at the furtherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrow and suffering."

: ̗̀➛ a london lawyer, mr utterson, investigates strange occurrences between his old friend dr henry jekyll, and the evil edward hyde.

: ̗̀➛ a horror classic! coming in at a sweet 96-pages, it was easy to smash out in an evening. and despite the brevity of the text and the fact that it's over a century old, i found it insanely compelling and indeed pretty chilling at multiple points.

: ̗̀➛ there are some ridiculously funny lines in this. i believe he named the evil character hyde just so he could drop this banger: "'If he be Mr. Hyde,' he had thought, 'I shall be Mr. Seek.'"

: ̗̀➛ henry jekyll my sweet summer child, you flew way too close to the sun with this shit.

: ̗̀➛ "You must suffer me to go my own dark way." BARS.

babel: an arcane history by r. f. kuang [★★★★★]

"The poet runs untrammelled across the meadow. The translator dances in shackles."

: ̗̀➛ opening in the year 1828, a young boy from canton is orphaned by cholera and brought to london by a mysterious professor. he is trained in latin, ancient greek, and chinese, in preparation for the day he will attend oxford university's royal institute of translation - babel. the tower is the world's center for translation and silver-working, the magical craft that has so far brought unrivalled power to the british and supports the empire's ongoing colonisation of the world. but what happens when it is discovered that britain is pursuing an unjust war against china, and robin realises that serving babel means betraying his motherland.

: ̗̀➛ this book left me absolutely speechless. upon starting it i was immediately ashamed at how long it had taken me to pick this up considering all the hype. serious thanks to @seventeenpins for recommending this to me recently, you are the best for putting me onto this.

: ̗̀➛ beautifully crafted, incredibly intelligent, great central characters. i don't even know how to put into words what i felt about this one. and as someone who consumes a fair amount of translated literature [see: my love of ancient greek and roman classics] it tickled my interest around the biases and intricacy of translation so perfectly. you need to read it. please.

: ̗̀➛ have to include: "It should have been distressing. In truth, Robin found it was actually quite easy to put up with any degree of social unrest, as long as one got used to looking away."

: ̗̀➛ have to include #2: "So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal?"

: ̗̀➛ and absolutely cannot not include this iconic PBS diss: "He greatly enjoyed Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, though he could not say the same of the poems by her less talented husband, whom he found overly dramatic."

paradise rot by jenny hval [★★★★]

"But my dreams are full of apples, and in the dark my body slowly transforms into fruit: tonsils shrinking to seeds and lungs to cores. I dream of white flowers blossoming under my nails, as if under ice. Then my nails break, opening up like clams and in the finger flesh there are little sticky fruit pearls."

: ̗̀➛ jo is in a strange new country for university, living in a house with no walls, a roommate with no boundaries, and a home that seems increasingly more and more alive.

: ̗̀➛ so much piss in this one folks.

: ̗̀➛ jenny hval is a norwegian musician and this was her debut novel, and it was bizarre and haunting and disgusting and made me cringe and feel squeamish at many points, and yet i read it in one fell swoop. it grips you for 120-odd pages and when you're done it feels like you've been spit out disoriented.

mrs s by k. patrick [★★★]

"When she is not around, I invent her. When she is around, I invent her. It is not her fault."

: ̗̀➛ an australian butch lesbian travels to england to work in an elite boarding school, where she meets mrs s, the headmaster's wife. over a hot, restless summer, the two engage in an affair.

: ̗̀➛ i enjoyed this one decently enough. the writing style grew a bit tiresome, and the storyline seemed quite laissez-faire, but overall yes i enjoyed it. what can also grow tiresome for me is the woman-on-woman affair when one of them is married to a man - but maybe i've just read too much queer lit with no foreseeable happy ending lately, idk.

: ̗̀➛ the way the dialogue was structured [or perhaps, unstructured to a painful extent] was not my cup of tea at all.

: ̗̀➛ i was really tickled by her living in an annexe so close to the school nurse, who is very religious. the dynamic gave way to great passages like this: "I imagine her, at night, sending prayers my way, so sweet as to be malicious. In each of our interactions there is always the feeling that I would do better under her God. I don't mind her God, so tangible. The sexy Jesus in her bedroom. His body I too would die to have. Not just the chest but the legs, a footballer's legs, complex with muscle. Even those sad, raised palms. Brazen in their injuries. Such glamour." like hello??? incredible.

grey dog by elliott gish [★★★★]

"You called me a dirty little beast, and I have become as dirty and beastly a woman as there ever was."

"What is that quote from Othello, what Emilia says about men? They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, they belch us."

: ̗̀➛ a 'literary horror novel' set in 1901 about the unmarried and almost 30 'spinster' ada byrd who accepts a teaching post in a small isolated town. she wants to be rid of her past, one 'riddled with grief and shame', but upon witnessing strange and grisly sights, ada begins to believe that something ancient and beastly is behind all the peculiarities in this little town. her confusion deepens, and ada's grip on what is reality, delusion, or traumatic memory, begins to blur and fail.

: ̗̀➛ body horror, gore, the horrors of being a woman, witchy business, descent into madness, women longing for women.

: ̗̀➛ because the entire text is written in first person diary entries, i found that it sometimes failed to establish a creepy atmosphere. although this issue was more prominent for me in the first half, while in the second half the diary entries acted as a great insight as to how unhinged she was becoming. slay.

: ̗̀➛ imo this is simply what happens to a woman when she is raised by a heinous father and ends up an adult surrounded by too many sexy older women!

the sleepwalkers by scarlett thomas [★★★]

"How many eyes can one storm have?"

: ̗̀➛ still reeling from the chaos of their wedding, evelyn and richard arrive on a tiny greek island for their honeymoon. it's the end of the season and a storm is brewing on the horizon. they check into the villa rosa, which has a peculiar owner named isabella, and everyone wants to talk about the famous sleepwalkers, a couple who stayed at the hotel recently and drowned.

: ̗̀➛ saw a tagline that coined this as 'patricia highsmith meets white lotus' and i'd agree. good mystery thriller with some action.

: ̗̀➛ this one was a touch slow at first [it's told in letters, dictated audio recordings, from different perspectives, etc] but ultimately gripped me and i thoroughly enjoyed the drama and mystery. newlyweds that hate each other's guts? yeah, bestie, i need to know why.

: ̗̀➛ i really got into some of the takes showing how evelyn and richard viewed each other. this really stuck with me: "I read infrequently, partly because every book change me, right down the level of my DNA. I didn't want to be changed so often. But you were able to hoover up contemporary culture without so much as a little belch afterwards. You just carried on being you."

: ̗̀➛ also let me fucking tell you, there was a line in this book that made me drop my kindle and GUFFAW in shock. page 88, HELLO. evelyn girl you kill me.

the drift by c. j. tudor [★★★]

"These days death had been laid bare for what it really was. An ending. Often brutal, seldom fair, rarely kind."

: ̗̀➛ a thriller-esque, horror-esque book about a deadly infectious virus, and the attempted survival of three seperate groups trapped in isolated circumstances in the icy wilderness. [this one is so hard to describe sorry]

: ̗̀➛ the book is told through three different pov's. i normally despise this but i actually didn't hate it in this case, although i did have favourites.

: ̗̀➛ boyfriend asked me to read this when he finished it and then watched me from across the room the almost whole time, pretending not to be staring whenever i looked up. and he was right, it was fast-paced, had some good twists and turns, and was enjoyable, albeit very different from what i normally read.

what have i done? an honest memoir about surviving post-natal mental illness by laura dockrill [★★★★]

"Put me out of my misery. I feel like a killer on the loose. I need to turn myself in."

"Or the one of New Mum having champagne and cake with the girls. Another doing 'date night' two weeks before her six-week check, like, 'Yes, we still have sex!' Mum is fitting back into her clothes; Mum is making papier-mâché piggy banks; drinking enough water; shaving her armpits; reading a bedtime story; going to a gig; playing peekaboo. Mum is keeping up with her favourite TV shows; reading the Booker longlist; being a good friend; making a healthy yet tasty cost-effective-probably-vegan meal; recycling; giving baby massage; sterilising. Mum is getting rid of her pregnancy knickers when they are the only knickers she truly likes; doing her taxes; walking the dog; donating to charity; freezing bananas; learning Japanese because why not? ... Oh look! Mum is abseiling down the Shard and still finding the time to express and write a blog about the whole experience."

: ̗̀➛ a memoir about a first-time mum's experience with post-partum psychosis, and her survival.

: ̗̀➛ this book was a heart-ache of a read. honest and raw and devastating and uplifting. often very very funny -- "People told Hugo, 'Don't go down the goal end, mate; it's like watching your favourite pub burn down.' Oh ha. Ha. Ha." -- i couldn't put it down.

: ̗̀➛ the end did start to feel a touch self-helpy which isn't necessarily my bag of tricks when it comes to non-fiction, but those inclusions felt warranted and fair after such an in-depth depiction of everything laura had gone through.

: ̗̀➛ serious mental health trigger warnings for this one. there is plenty of humour, but it gets very dark.

the death of jane lawrence by caitlin starling [★★]

"She dreamed of tearing out a rotted pit inside of him where his martyrdom resided."

: ̗̀➛ in an alternate version of victorian-era britain, jane shoringfield is seeking a marriage of convenience that will allow her to continue working, with all the benefits of being a married woman, and she finds this in dr augustine lawrence. however, he has one condition - she can never visit lindridge hall, his family manor outside of town, where he himself will sleep each and every night. but on their wedding night, an accident strands jane at the door in a rainstorm, and in place of her husband she finds a terrified, paranoid man who cannot tell reality from nightmare. by morning he is himself again, but jane knows something is terribly wrong at lindridge hall.

: ̗̀➛ i picked this up looking for a fun, spooky little read, but am sad to say that i absolutely did not like it. the characters were fickle, the plot twists were unsurprising and revealed poorly, and the storyline was all over the place. sadge!

: ̗̀➛ sold itself as a gothic ghost horror, but didn't live up to that at all [for me!] heavily inspired by crimson peak, and it doesn't care if you know it.

: ̗̀➛ also - when your 'independent strong female' mc marries a guy who lies constantly and makes up bullshit and every time she confronts him he boo-hoos so she forgives him immediately cause he really is a nice man?? womp womp.

: ̗̀➛ also also - way more cocaine in this than i expected.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

if you want to share a book you love with me, please do! i am always looking out for new recs.

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi but he's throwing a tantrum over not getting a kiss all day

Literally lays down on the floor, screaming until he gets a kiss

a/n: i love him so much, i was re-watching that backstory episode of him and genya and I've still not physically recovered. also, sorry for being offline for a bit, I've got tonsillitis and COVID right now :( all what I've written in this drabble also apply to all AU's.

Sanemi is a surprisingly very affectionate man, anybody would look at the temperamental grump and think the opposite but you know far better: the Wind Hashira will become a pathetic, mushy mess if you so much as caress his cheek.

He feels like he doesn't deserve it but your hand is so soft, your eyes sparkle as you look at him and he feels like the sky has rained down stars and blessings onto him.

He's never let anyone get close to him, not a single person, nobody has ever known the feeling of his skin nor how he looks when he cries out as he cums. Only you do, and the thought makes him childishly proud, he's yours — what a fucking honour.

So he doesn't understand why you haven't given him one single kiss the entire day- Hell, you haven't even glanced at him, did he do something wrong?

Have you finally realised he's ugly and really not worth it? Or - this is what Sanemi thinks could be the worst case scenario - did you just not want to give him a kiss today?

He's been trailing behind you like a lost puppy all day, following after you, a small scrunch between his brows.

You're so busy, barely paying him mind, looking stressed yourself. He feels like whining and bawling on the floor just to get your attention. He's more than willing to start shrieking and shovelling dirt into his mouth just to get your attention.

You're doing so much work from the minute you cracked open your pretty eyes — you didn't even give him a morning peck and cuddle, already out the futon when Sanemi awoke (by himself; lonely, sad, cold, depressed, how could you?).

You've been training younger slayers, giving them tips and pointers; making some food for the orphaned kids down the street; sharpened yours and Sanemi's swords; went to go see a few different Hashira since they wanted some help from you, and Sanemi's been right behind you, brooding and pouting.

He's tried to get your attention multiple times, lightly tugging on your sleeve so you look at him but you just give him a gentle squeeze on his thick wrist and a small smile before turning your attention elsewhere (why the fuck do you need to help that Kamado boy?) and then he tries to pepper little kisses against your jaw while you talk to Tomioka (fuck that guy) about your last mission but you gently cover his mouth and give him that look to stop.

He finally loses his patience when you start talking to some random guy at the very front of his estate. He scowls, grabs your delicate wrist, and drags you away.

"'Nemi, my beloved, whatever are you doing-?" you say in that sweet voice of yours.

"You haven't kissed me once today!" he says; it's meant to come out as a growl, as something threatening and angry but it sounds more like an upset whine. "I've been trying to get your attention all day!"

He gives that frown of his, slight pout on his pretty lips.

"Do you want me to bark like a dog, is that it? You want- you want me to rip all my hair out and shriek like a fucking cockroach on the ground? Why haven't I gotten a single kiss? I didn't get my waking-up kiss, not my well-done kiss, not my 'cause-why-not kiss, not a kiss on my hand or my head or my hair even though I-"

He's cut off with being pulled down by his haori to be kissed by you.

Hell yeah.

You're cupping his face, fingers delicately stroking his strong jaw and soft cheeks, lips gently pressing against his, and he sighs softly into your mouth; grabbing at your wrists and holding you there.

When you pull away with a small chuckle, you ask, "There. Does that make up for it?"

"No, I want five more," he says with a sneer but his pink-dusted cheeks and dazed eyes are very telling.

[shojizbae]

Explorative Operation

Spencer Reid x reader

(takes place during season 6 after JJ leaves) oops spoilers, dw she comes back

Garcia's snooping goes too far, and she ends up unearthing some truths about the new hire. Unfortunately, those truths feel are a little more intimate than you were willing to divulge with the team. Especially details you wouldn't want to spread on a first date.

Spencer had no clue how this happened. Of course, curiosity killed the cat but in this case, this was more like a mixture of hubris and inquisivity slaughtering a lion. A week of preliminary interviews had yielded 3 finalists and, finally, you. Young, stunning, sharp as a tack, and most importantly, hired. After Hotchner had announced to the team for you that you were hired, they sent you home until 8 am tomorrow.

"Baby girl, did you hear that?" Penelope swung her head around and gave her classic doe-eyed look.

"We finally got a new media liaison." The team feels the conflicted stir of relief and grief. Their workloads should be lightened but they missed JJ. It had been a couple of months since she was transferred to the Pentagon, and the team was spread too thin without her.

"Oh (L/n) or Raleigh?"

"Wasn't there three finalists?" Emily corrects

"Yeah, but Rossi said that Kuschner reminded him of his second wife, and we didn't want to relive that relationship." Penelope sipped her coffee with a cheeky look in her eye. "So, who'd they go with?"

"(L/n)." Morgan declares as he puts his hands on his hips

"Ah that's good, she had a nice clean background, good college and she crushed it in the academy." Garcia smiled and innocently clicked off to her office. Morgan and emily shared mischievous glances as Spencer sat oblivious. He held his mug by his jaw and readjusted his hand in his pocket.

"What?"

"Why don't we go learn more about our new Liasion." Emily makes a downward smile, and Morgan stalks over to clap Reid on the back

"We should, gotta know who we're hiring."

Any protests of "Well, it's not technically us who's doing the hiring, but Chief Strauss." Were silenced as Morgan marched Spencer to the hidden office of Penelope Garcia.

"C'mon, pretty boy, no need to argue." Just down a hallway and around the corner the trio stumbles across the neon red curls of Penelope. Emily knocks on the jam of the open door.

"Hey Penny, we've got some questions about this miss ((L/n)."

"Oh, smart ones kneeling at the keeper all pearls of wisdoms in search of the A's to their Q's." Garcia spins around in her chair like a cartoon villain.

"We just want to know some things about this new liaison. You know this wound is still so fresh with JJ being gone and all." Emily plays innocently

"Well, they want this information. I want nothing to do with this sleuthing." Reid shows his palms in surrender and tries to spin around the counter but Morgan grabs him by the back of his sweater,

"Oh, know you don't, pretty boy."

"No," She points her finger in his face. "You can't use JJ as a chip in your nasty snooping."

"We just wanna know if there's anything we should be worried about, mama." Morgan juts out his lip

"You know I can't resist that sexy puppy face." Garcia spins around and flicks up her recent searches on you. A hundred files fly up, including credit car history, hospital visits, and even that dreaded 'permanent record' that every school principal threatens. Shockingly, all that's on it is that you got in a fistfight in seventh grade and served three weeks of after-school detention and a subsequent suspension from your varsity tennis team.

"What's this in her medical history?" Emily points at a page hidden behind a few tabs.

"Uhh, it just shows she had a pretty average childhood; she had her tonsils and adenoids removed at age five after some repeated tonsillitis and bronchitis. She broke her right arm when she was 7 and then her left one when she was 10. And oh god, she gave birth at seventeen, but 8 months prior, she had a rape kit administered." the ream halts a moment.

"Did the case go through?" Spencer questioned

"Yes, she filed suit for statutory a week after her kit and won the case, he went to jail for 6 years." Garcia clicks away

"What about the baby?" Emilys voice wavers

"Oh lord, he died 3 hours after she gave birth." Tears gather in Penelope's eyes. When she did a preliminary background search, most of the information was 'history of mental illness' or 'criminal record', of which she found none.

"Alright, I don't want to do this anymore." She took her hands off the keyboard

"That's alright, baby girl, you've done plenty. Why don't we take lunch?"

The next morning, you arrived before anyone else. All ready to start the day fresh. You even went out of the way to go to the fancy bakery up the street of your new apartment to get treats. You unlocked your office to get familiarized with it but were sent into a spin at the state of it. You spent the following forty minutes refining the filing cabinet, even pushing the desk into a different corner. Human metabolism caught up with you, and you went out to the kitchenette, and even as you started a fresh brew of coffee, you were wiping down the counters and organizing the tea by top notes. It didn't dawn on you that you had an audience. When the small alarm on the machine dinged, you filled your mug and put in a splash of creamer.

"Did you bribe the team with donuts?" you shot out of the refrigerator, ready to pulverize whoever scared you.

"Woah!" a brown-skinned man holds his hands up in surrender. "I just want to thank you. They were delicious. My name is SSA Derek Morgan, I'll be working with you." He holds out a hand, and I shake it bashfully.

"Yeah, I figured I'd attempt to start things off on a sweet note." I force out an awkward giggle but clear my throat. "If you need me, I'll be in my office." I take my coffee and skitter off the small flight of stairs to start raking through the freshly organized files of suspected serial killers. All day, I answer calls and prioritize deaths. For a moment, I ponder whether this job could give me a god complex, and I hope it doesn't. A knock on my door rips me from my trance, and an older Italian man with a lazy eye.

"We're going to meet at the round table. I'm SSA David Rossi." I shoot out of my chair and greet him with a firm handshake.

"Yes, sir, nice to see you again." I follow after him as we round a corner. Bloody photos of three crime scenes are displayed on the TV screen. The team finds it difficult to focus on the gory details as the new girl explains the details of the case. Your outfit isn't outrageous.

A gray pencil skirt with a small slit on the back, a white button down, but you'd rolled up your sleeves, and you wore a sweater. You'd clipped your hair up, but wavy little bits fell and framed your face. You paced around with the remote in hand as your boss divulged more of the science. When they make the decision to leave in an hour, you're the last to leave, but you give friendly smiles to everyone as they file out.

Between departure and arrival, you speak with the local PD to alert them of your arrival. Over the three-hour flight, you watch the team rake all scraps of evidence for a story. Garcia and I rake over misdemeanors in Nebraska to try and grasp a victim pool. As liaison, it's my job to chit-chat with police officers, grieving relatives, and generally anybody. Despite that, Hotch takes the lead as we intersperse our teams.

"And this is our liaison, Agent (Y/n) (L/n); she'll be your access to us." They break down every scrap of information in a way that's less scientific but artful. Instantly, I fell in love with my job. After 90 minutes of questioning, this is what I've gathered.

It's a man, he's impotent because he targets hookers. Apologies, prostitute or lady of the night. Shocking job because it's freezing up in Nebraska, even in April. He feels slight remorse because he poses his victims like a traditional corpse, yet he views them as objects because he leaves them in their underwear. Which seems typical if you're going to see a hooker that she might get naked if you pay her.

Now, we just need to figure out why.

I go with Emily and Seaver to speak with grieving families. We learn bits and pieces of each history. That's how each case went. Your training wrapped up only a few cases later. You decide that since you were given free rein and that the team was really starting to show openness to you it was time you hosted a fun get-together. Wrapping up a case in Florida and touching back down at Quantico at two pm, you ask the team,

"Would you guys like to go get some drinks?" everyone looks hesitant. Grief and tensity underline their features. So you try to fabricate a good night, "I could get some wine coolers and Chinese food." you smile hopefully. Hotchner relents

"I'll come so long as I can bring Jack."

"Alright, are there any foods he prefers ooh or any allergies?" Your excitement cuts you off. Your eyes scan the team and land on Spencer. He's slowly cut his hair shorter and some of the sadness has fallen from his eyes. He purses his lips and puts his hands in his pockets,

"I prefer Thai," he sighs

"Not a problem, there's a Thai place down the road." you punch in the passcode on your Blackberry. "I could call it in now?"

"That's alright. Just send me your address. I'll be there whenever you text." His face heats up, and he slinks off to his desk to file his report with record speed and detail.

"Great. I'll email the team my address, and I'll buzz you up at six," I offer, and Emily nods.

"If there will be wine coolers, I should bring something palatable." Rossi makes his famous little smirk, and Aaron regards him with a knowing smile.

"Ooh, this will be nice, I'll bring some beers. Baby girl are you coming over to (Y/n)'s?" Morgan steals Garcia's attention as she clicks out to greet the team after a job well done

"Oh, that sounds like a hoot and a holler!" She cheers pointedly

Sometime around Eight pm that night, the cheap alcohol had flown, and Aaron was bringing his sober son home. Rossi and Emily were giggling over a real bottle of champagne from France. Morgan was laughing as he finished off his fourth beer and watched Reid desperately writhe under your highly obvious flirting. Your heels had long been kicked off, but you still squirmed around in nylons and a white scoop-neck t-shirt.

"So, Reid, how many degrees do you have?" you held your third wine cooler in your hand, and your other arm was on the leather sofa dangerously close to looping around Spencer's neck. His legs are crossed, and he's still on his first beer, nervous about using any addictive substances.

"Currently, I have six, not counting my high school degree, a BA in psychology and sociology, my doctorate in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering, and recently, I got a BA in philosophy." You have the definition of an ear-to-ear smile.

"That is ridiculously impressive." you practically radiate light as you make the most genuine eye contact and take a sip of your bottle.

"Thank you," he replies curtly

"No, I mean it. You're so far above my metric of impressiveness. Your girlfriend must be a lucky woman."

"What makes you think I have a girlfriend?" He smiles at your classically alcohol-flushed face

"You don't? So I wouldn't be encroaching if I asked you on a date?" It's almost like you halted time and the rotation of oxygen.

"I wouldn't say encroaching, but maybe.."

"Are you against it?" You kind of shift closer to him

"Certainly not. I just don't know if you're familiar with the coworkers dating clause."

"I just signed my contract, I am very familiar. So long as it doesn't impede our ability to collaborate."

"So how about," Slowly, you've shifted closer to him so that you're nearly chest to chest, and he leans backward? " Tomorrow at eight p.m., I'll pick you up, and we'll go get Thai."

"That sounds lovely."

"Perfect." you smile in content and give him some personal space.

Nine am rolls around, and you make your way to the office to prepare for a long day of phone calls and gore. A stabbing in Knoxville that seemed like a gang collision. Some suspicious kills in Annapolis that definitely should be presented, and a murder/suicide in Vegas. You called the meeting, and Hotch decided that the team needs some rest and that they should meet at the jet tomorrow at eight. You spend the rest of your day sorting files and answering emails.

At five, you saunter to Reid's desk and smile at his slightly sweaty face. "I'll see you in three hours." You wink. Once you get in your car, you scream in glee and squeeze the wheel. The next three hours are spent in anxiety. You shower and blow dry your hair, opting to take out your contacts for the night. You decide on jeans, a tank top, and a big UCLA hoodie.

You leave your house at exactly 7:47, so the 13-minute drive will leave you at Reid's doorstep at exactly eight. You find him sitting on his porch step, swinging his hand in front and behind his back until his hands collide. You pull off to the side and roll down the window,

"Get in, loser. We're going shopping!"

"What?" he still jogs up to the window, and you unlock your door for him.

"C'mon, you've never heard of mean girls? Regina George?"

"No, I watch nerdy movies, old classical films."

"That is a classic. Seat belt, please. We'll have to watch it sometime." You put the car in drive and take him into the small 'Chinatown' near your apartment. You two got pad Thai and khao pad and drove to a scenic park to enjoy it. Being all too familiar with Ted Bundy and James Thomas, you lock the doors tight.

"Do you want to keep the radio playing?" Even with the car in park, you keep the car running, so the heat will keep you warm. The radio plays some old Radio Head songs.

"Sure, if you want to." He tears open the brown paper bag. You grab the bar under your seat, push it all the way back, and bring your knees up to your chest. Reid hands you your fried rice, and you get a pair of chopsticks from him. You eat the rice with ease, and Spencer looks at you perplexed. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew

"Eat with those freaking sticks." His anger is overlain with his flummoxed tone.

"I don't know, there's always been a lot of Asian restaurants near me. It's like kids who just know how to play the piano after watching their parents." This launches Spencer into a five-minute speech about inherited talents' pathology. When he finally runs out of breath, he's relieved that you never told him to can it. In fact, you sat there intently, listening to him ramble on about inherent perceptions.

"I've talked a lot, so why don't you tell me something about you?" he fiddles with his fingers as he focuses on you.

"Uh, what to say that's not too weird," you scan over the ceiling of your car as you think out loud, "Uh, in college, I nearly switched my major to film after watching Breakfast at Tiffanies and then buying copies of hundreds of old films."

"Really? What about those old movies that drew you in?" He struggles to get some noodles and you hold back your giggles

"Romance seemed more simple back then. I mean, I'm aware that it was normal and even expected to domestically abuse, but that doesn't mean that Liz Taylor and Marylin Monroe didn't play in some of my favorite movies. I had some shitty exes that thought it was better to be like reality rather than film."

"Is one of them the one that got you pregnant?"

"What? How do you know about that?" It took Spencer far too long to register what had slipped from his mouth. Before he could even begin his explanation with a double side of apologies, you had launched into a rant about men and privacy and why everyone sucked.

"Explain yourself!" you demanded with the same intonation of a banshee

"The team was working on your background check, and we did some further snooping. We found your medical records, and it said you lost your son at 17 years old?" tears had gathered in your eyebags in a way that resembled sweat.

"Why would you stay to dig? Why did you did at all?"

"I would like you to know that it wasn't my idea, although I know you don't care. I just wanted to know more about you."

"And you couldn't just come up and ask about my favorite color or favorite Beatles song?" you raked your hands through your hair.

" I didn't-I," he sighed through his teeth, "I didn't mean to violate your privacy. It was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. If I could take it back, I wouldn't because knowing you're not the perfect Barbie you appear to be gives me the bravery to talk to you. Knowing you're not perfect, it-it forces me to think about you as a human, not just the goddess I perceive." The tears pouring down your face change from anger and betrayal to shock and elation.

No man had treated you with such adoration, not entirely. Most of them buttered you up with words that were so predictable they could be seen as binary code. These words. These words are original and genuine. It never struck you that someone could love you from so little without touching you.

Touch.

You tugged your sleeve up the heel of your palm, wiped your eyes, and then placed your hand on Spencer's forearm. At first, he jumped back from the contact, but he slid his hand into yours slowly.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, ever."

"It's just the truth; in your second case, you said you hate liars." you giggle a little as your tears dry up.

"Would it be too soon to kiss you?" your smile is all shy and crooked

"Only if you say so," he chews on his inner lip but the apprehensive lean in makes your chest lift.

[yeoosaangg]

៹ HALF OF MY HEART || KINKTOBER ─ Day 24

➛ PAIRING:: JEONG JAEHYUN × FEM!READER

➛ NOW PLAYING:: HALF OF MY HEART — JOSH MAKAZO

⤷ ❝KNOW YOU STILL HAVE THINGS TO SAY. IT'S DIFFERENT SINCE I BROKE US APART.❞

➛ GENRE:: COLLEGE!AU, EXES TO LOVERS, SMUT

➛ WARNINGS:: PERIOD SEX, CAR SEX, FINGERING, JOCK!JAEHYUN, MARKING, PRAISE, MENTIONS OF BLOOD (OBVIOUSLY)

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

You go to the skate park late at night to think.

It helps when you've got a lot on your mind and need to unwind, but you couldn't do that tonight.

A bunch of frat boys came together to throw a party, one you were invited to. It may not be your usual night out, but at least it was different.

Now alcohol can be your escape from a broken heart.

Kevin: Hey, you made it!

Y/n: I'm usually here skating on a regular night.

Kevin: Saved you a seat, right here

You roll your eyes as he pats his lap. You look around and see that there truly was no more space to sit and just take his offer.

Y/n: So, did I miss anything?

Kevin: Nah. Just a few guys on the football team having a chugging contest.

Y/n: Mmm, boring.

Kevin: It was.

You scan the park just to have something to do, but it proves to be a mistake when you spot your ex-boyfriend making out with one of the cheerleaders.

That hurts.

Kevin: Where'd your mind go just now?

Y/n: Saw Jaehyun playing tonsil hockey with captain preppy.

Kevin: Brutal. Need me to kick his ass?

Y/n: Nah. He'd squash you like a bug and I happen to love my best friend.

Kevin: I hate when you're right.

You guys laugh and you get up to grab a closed bottle of beer. When you come back, Kevin notices your ex staring at you two.

Kevin: He's looking.

Y/n: Don't care.

Kevin: He looks like he wants to kill me.

You roll your eyes and position yourself so you're straddling Kevin. He doesn't react, just holds your exposed hips so you don't fall back.

Y/n: You think from this angle it'll look like we're kissing?

Kevin: Yeah, why?

You put your thumb on his lips before kissing your nail, pressing your forehead against his. Kevin wraps his arm around you to make it look like he's pulling you in deeper.

You pull away and smile at him, a silent thank you for going along with your plan.

Kevin: He's coming over here.

Y/n: Don't lie to me, Moon.

So much for not caring.

Kevin: Just turn around.

You do and feel your heart drop as he strides over to you.

Y/n: Shit, gotta go.

Kevin: Have fun, bestie! Use protection!

You flip him off and hurriedly make your way towards the parking lot. Maybe you'll get home quicker if you run.

Jaehyun: Y/n! Wait up!

Why does he sound like he's right behind you?

You make a noise of surprise when he grabs your arm and turns you to face him.

Y/n: Oh, hey.

Jaehyun: Hey. Did you not hear me?

Y/n: Nope, sorry.

Lie.

Jaehyun: Can we talk?

Y/n: I don't think that's a good idea.

Jaehyun: Please? I swear I'll leave you alone after, if that's what you want.

You sigh.

He was using those stupid eyes of his. The ones where they get all soft and kind.

He still knows how to make you weak.

Y/n: Fine.

He smiles and guides you to his car with a hand on the small of your back. You feel his warm fingers curl around your waist, almost like he's afraid you'll run.

You curse yourself for wearing a crop top.

He opens the passenger door and you reluctantly get in.

There was an awkward silence when he gets in, locking the car doors. It was only for privacy reasons.

Jaehyun: I hate how we left things.

Y/n: How you left things.

He takes a deep breath and nods.

Jaehyun: I never wanted to hurt you.

Y/n: But you did.

He broke things off two months ago because he "needed to be with someone that matches his popularity", hence the bimbo he was making out with.

Jaehyun: It's just- I got lost in the glory of being the quarterback, that I became a different person. I let go of the one person who means the most to me because of it.

Stupid excuse.

Y/n: I get it, Jae. I'm not popular enough for you. I'm not drop-dead gorgeous enough for your new friends. But you didn't have to insult me when you broke things off. That was just cruel on your part.

He understands that.

He messed up so bad and it cost him the love of his life.

Jaehyun: You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. That is a fact no one will ever get to prove wrong. My heart will always belong to you.

Oh.

He still has feelings for you?

Jaehyun: If you can give me another chance, I swear I'll do right by you.

Y/n: Don't you have a girlfriend?

Jaehyun: No.

Y/n: Then why were you making out with the head cheerleader? Thought she was your arm candy.

Jaehyun: I never made it official with her. Just let her kiss me in public, but nothing other than that.

Hm.

Jaehyun: What about you? Are you and Kevin Moon dating?

Y/n: Nah, I was just feeling petty. Kiss was fake; he'd launch me off of him if it was real.

Jaehyun: Now that sounds like him.

You both laugh, comfortable silence surrounding the once tense atmosphere.

It feels warm and familiar.

Jaehyun: Can I- Can I kiss you?

You nod, leaning in to meet his lips halfway.

You climb over and straddle his lap while he puts his seat all the way back. His hands roam your entire body, tongue exploring your mouth all over again.

You feel him getting ready to slide his hand into the waistband of your panties when you stop him.

Jaehyun: What's wrong?

Y/n: Nothing, I just remembered something.

Jaehyun: What is it?

You feel embarrassed to say this out loud. You're hot and bothered, but can't do anything about it because-

Y/n: I'm on my period.

He begins to laugh and kiss the skin underneath your jaw.

Y/n: It's not funny!

Jaehyun: It's kinda funny, baby.

You whine, hiding your face in his chest.

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head.

Jaehyun: It's funny because you think a little blood's gonna stop me from fucking you.

Huh?!?

You yelp when his hand slips inside your panties and his middle finger circles your clit. You moan very loudly from not having been touched since he left you.

Jaehyun: Careful, baby. Wouldn't want anyone to hear your pretty sounds.

Y/n: Don't give a fuck.

You kiss him as his fingers get covered in a mix of your arousal and blood. Your pad gets scrunched the more his knuckles disappear in your cunt.

You sit up and take your top off, revealing you perky tits.

Jaehyun: No bra? What if you accidentally flashed everyone at the party?

Y/n: It is what it is.

He chuckles, helping you steady yourself as you get completely naked.

He lowers his jeans down enough so his cock springs free. He was hard and leaking, just how you like him.

You align yourself with his tip and slam down on his cock. He moans as you bounce without adjusting.

You were too horny and impatient to give a fuck about anything right now.

Y/n: Hated seeing you with that stupid, blonde airhead. Wanted to beat her ass everytime she passed me on campus.

Jaehyun: Aww, you didn't like how close she was to me? Then fucking mark me so she knows who I belong to.

You don't even have to be told twice. Your mouth litters multiple red hickeys all over his neck and chest.

God, he bruises so easily, it makes you needier.

You look so ruined already, but he wants to break you. Have you reduced to a drooling and whimpering mutt for him like he always does.

But not tonight.

Tonight is about getting you back and doing everything he can to show you he means what he says. He's going to love you despite what others say.

You're worth it.

He gasps when your teeth scratch against his jugular, lightly sucking on the skin there.

Y/n: I'm gonna cum.

He watches you bounce on his cock, tits matching the rhythm as you squirt all over him - you probably got blood all over him, too.

You get tired, so he slams his hips into you as the top of your ass hits the bottom of the steering wheel. Lucky it wasn't the horn, right?

Y/n: Want more. Please give me more.

Jaehyun: Such a good girl. Always taking what I give you and begging for more, not satisfied until everyone at this fucking party can see how thoroughly mine you are.

You scream as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot. It was a delicious repetitive motion that has you shaking in your ex-boyfriend's arms.

You press your chest against his, mouth attacking his neck as you meet his thrusts.

He tries to pull you off his neck by your hair, but you growl at him - mouth leaving him for only a moment to push his hand off before devouring him again.

His hands leaves bruises on your hips at how hot that was of you. Being on your period makes you even hornier than a bitch in heat.

Jaehyun: You’re my little whore, aren’t you?

You growl again, biting on his shoulder before nodding to his question.

Y/n: Only yours.

He picks up his pace, causing you to grip onto the handle above your head to steady yourself. His cock rams into you so rough, you're drooling and whimpering - just like he wanted.

Oops!

Both of you cum at the same time, not caring who hears you anymore. You just care about each other.

You bury your face in his neck trying to catch your breath. He leans back and massages your body to help soothe the shaking.

Y/n: I've missed you a lot.

He smiles, kissing your temple.

Jaehyun: Please give me another chance, Y/n. I can give you everything you need and want. Just give me one month and I swear I'll embed myself so far in you, you won't be able to breathe without me.

You giggle, resting your chin on his chest.

Y/n: Okay. But only one chance. If you blow it, you'll never see me again.

Jaehyun: Thank you, baby. I promise I'll treat you right.

He shifts a little and you whine. His cock was still inside you.

Y/n: Can we leave to get cleaned up? Cum mixed with blood isn't a pretty sight.

He laughs with his entire chest, kissing your lips with a huge grin.

Jaehyun: 'Course we can.

═══

a/n: get me away from pinterest prompts. this ain't good for my sanity. thanks for reading ‹𝟹

[bettyfrommars]

Big Gulp

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

🚨18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, oral (E receiving), ass play, dirty talk, ejaculation, swallowing, public sex

Your eyes flutter as you taste the salty skin around Eddie Munson’s snail trail of hair below his belly button, making your way down to a sacred place. The sound of his low growls and curses as you work your way along with kisses and licks, has your cunt blossoming with need.

“Wait,” Eddie says in a strained whisper, putting his hand on your shoulder, “not here.”

But you’re already opening the top button of his jeans, mouth watering for the bulge of his rock hard cock under his denim.

You’re outside in the dark, with Eddie pressed up against the side of his van in a packed parking lot, while you squat down in front of him. His band, Corroded Coffin, is the next to go on stage at The Hideout, and you couldn’t handle how good he looked; you wanted to watch him perform while his seed was inside of you.

You unzip him and pull out his monster of a cock, put the tip to your mouth and flick the top slit with you tongue, sucking up all of the precum, milking the shaft with your hand so that even more squeezes out at the coaxing of your eager sucking.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie groans. “We can’t. I have to go in.”

You look up at him, kissing the tip. “Please?” You ask, and then you suck him deep, and circle your tongue around it, giving attention to the underside ridge. You lift your eyes to him again and repeat, “please, baby.”

Eddie drops back against the van, holding his shirt up, acquiescing.

A group of people stumble noisily out of their car two rows up and head into the venue. Eddie becomes alert for a moment, but then you deep throat his cock, wetting the shaft, letting it choke you a little in the back of your throat.

He grabs you by the hair and makes you look up at him, your mouth still wrapped around the head. “My dirty girl is always hungry for that cock, aren’t you? You starve for that cum in your belly.”

You nod, emphatically, pulling it out of your mouth only to spit, and then take him into your tonsils. Strings of saliva drip from your mouth and your hands. You cup his balls and suck each one into your mouth gently, humming, one hand stroking his cock as you do. Eddie is tightening the grip on your hair, holding you there, whispering what a good girl you are.

You put a finger into your mouth, get it wet, and then slide it down along his taint to his asshole while your other hand and mouth focus at the tip of his cock, stroking and sucking; lips wrapped over your teeth to make a tight hole.

Eddie stiffens as your finger enters his ass, the back of his head hitting the van with a thud. “Fuck, I hope you’re hungry.”

You’re nodding, begging, whimpering on his cock. You’re closing your throat on the tip, drool hanging from your chin in tendrils, working your hand until you feel that tiny tremble his leg does when he’s close. You work your finger higher, and his cock tightens.

Eddie lets go of his shirt and looked down to grab your head with both hands, his hips jerking, giving in with a spasm. He releases a strangled cry as the milk of his sweet cum explodes into the back of your throat, keeping you fed.

Your pussy is aching and your arousal has soaked through your jeans as you swallow every drop until his cock is almost limp, and then you lick up the shaft and down his balls to clean it all up, to make sure you didn’t miss a drop.

Eddie keeps a grip on your hair as you stand to meet his mouth, lips and tongues crashing together; he loves the residual taste of his cum after you suck him dry.

The door of the venue opens, loud music pouring out, and Gareth shouts for Eddie. You’re on the opposite side of the van and he can’t get a visual on the two of you, but Eddie zips his jeans up as he continues to kiss you, trying to pull himself together as best he can. He reaches down between your legs to feel how soaking wet you are and groans, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me hard again.”

You wipe the corners of your mouth as you watch him put his leather jacket on and flip his hair out of the collar. “Coming!” Eddie shouts back to Gareth and heads across the parking lot.

You were already so close, you had to finish yourself off in the back of his van, the memory of how he tasted sending you into orbit, already looking forward to the next time.

[moondirti]

I love your writing ❤️ Can I ask, what do you think each of the 141 boys top kinks are?

thanks love! sorry this took so long, i was givin it some thought

characters included: simon 'ghost' riley, captain john price, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick warnings: dacryphilia (mentioned sadism), gagging (spit and alluded breathplay), breeding (unprotected p-in-v and creampies), anal (lube/preparation, unprotected p-in-a)

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY: DACRYPHILIA

i've mentioned this before but i whole-heartedly believe that simon loves seeing you cry. he's not a good man, nor does he pretend to be – he's a sadist in many ways, and that extends to the bedroom, where, more than anything, he strives to find you writhing in half pain, half pleasure.

there are darker parts of him he tries to keep at bay; that instinct to push you to your limits - seeing just how far you can contort before you threaten to break, testing the give of your flesh and what it takes to pierce it. yet, no matter how much you beg for it - no matter what you say or do - he would never expose that part of himself to you. he’d keep it locked up, tucked between a rib and that doughy part of him that still rings with vexing guilt.

but drawing glossy tears to your lovely little eyes? fucking ragged moans and high-pitched wails out of you? it’s the perfect medium, a compromise he seeks almost every lay. simon would leave bruises, would push so far into you your belly bulges. he stretches you out, tender skin pulling with a fiery sting, and pinches your clit as you try to adjust. he leaves marks he knows will heal, but ones that ache enough to get you sniffing into the crook of his neck. 

and it’s when you’re all flushed out, lips swollen and salted water staining your cheeks, that he cums the hardest. it’s when you’re still hiccuping in the aftermath, tender, raw, does he opt to stay the night. just this once, just for the girl whose tears he both hates and adores.

JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH: GAGGING

it is without a doubt in my mind that i say: johnny has a major oral fixation. when people ask whether he’s an ass, tits or thighs guy, he has to turn them around to very intently point to that bloody fucking mouth of yours. it was the first thing that captured his eye – those lips smeared in lip gloss – and ever since then, he hasn’t been able to get a grip. 

because – listen – he’s messy. sex with him involves every fluid imaginable, puddled in curves and bends you always miss when washing up. the worst of them is spit; he’s a sucker for you all cock-dumb and drooly, stuffed chock-full in every single hole. when he’s ramming you from behind, he’ll always hug an arm around to reach your face, pushing three thick fingers onto your tongue until you’re gagging like crazy. he nudges your tonsils, allows you the space to breathe but not enough to swallow back your piling saliva. johnny doesn’t pull back until he feels it running down his wrist, until he’s coated in you absolutely everywhere. 

and it’s not just his fingers. he shoves just about anything down your throat. his cock, buried to the hilt so your nose smooshes into the crop of curly hair on his pelvis; your toys, right after making you play with yourself; hell, there was the one time he’d been too impatient to get back home and pulled you into a public restroom. he’d fucking crammed your panties into your mouth to prevent you from making noise. 

he just likes seeing you struggle to fit them, issall

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE: BREEDING

at twenty-something, he’d made a list of things he wanted to accomplish in his lifetime and, while his career goals were rapidly realised, the domestic column went largely untouched for almost a decade. he thought he was past that point of adolescent naivete – having long since learnt to be okay with the way things are – but price isn’t getting any younger. when he meets you, that yearning for a family – a pregnant wife, barefoot and waiting for him, touched with a halo type of radiance – comes back twice as strong. 

he knows he can’t intentionally fuck a baby into you, not yet – he’s still in a position where he’s away from home more often than not. that being said, the captain certainly plays fast and loose with the rules. no condoms? mm, no problem, sweetheart. i’ll fetch you a plan b tomorrow, before pumping you full of cum. he thinks he’s discreet when he manhandles you into those positions, the ones where your bottom half is propped up, where your legs are pushed to your chest and his cock spears into unfathomable depths. he just wants you to feel every of him, promise.

but lord, does he lose it when he feels his head kiss the wall of your womb. It’s the sight of you, spread open and overflowing, globs of pearlescent spend oozing from a wrecked hole. it’s you smearing it into your folds with two quivering fingers and tugging him closer. price thinks he’s ready to risk it all – every ticked box, his career, his livelihood – to get to see you like that every morning, blushing with an early dawn, biting down on his shoulder to keep the kids from waking up.

for now, though, he’ll settle for fingering his cum back into you, knowing that it won’t amount to anything.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK: ANAL

often pegged as the most ‘well-behaved’ member of the 141, gaz just tends to keep things quiet. he hides his snickers with a cough, his sarcastic remarks are whispered to himself (unlike soap – who almost yaps about everything to the lieutenant). as such, his top kink happens to be more of a dirty little secret than anything. it takes him a while to admit it to you, but the thought of stretching your other hole drives him mad; his eyes always draw to the ring of muscle whenever you’re bent in front of him. 

he’s kind of ashamed, really. that is, until one slow afternoon where the two of you indulge in your routine of cuddles and shitty anime dubs. he’s got you nestled on his lap, curled under an old quilt that smells like sugar scrub and his aftershave. and maybe it’s the way your head tucks under his chin, or maybe it’s your legs intertwined with one another, but before he knows it, he’s grinding up into your ass and you’re reciprocating, panting as his hardening bulge cleaves between it. 

you know, i’ve always wanted to try something… next thing you know, you’re in your bedroom, pillow buttressing your hips as he slowly preps you. he’s got one hand spreading your cheeks, the other coated in lube, scissoring the unbelievably tight clutch of your ass. he’s leaking onto his lap, practically twitching, but he doesn’t want to rush. he takes his time unravelling you, giving you all the orgasms you need to let go of your tensions. only then does he finally, finally, split you open. 

and it’s beyond anything he’s ever imagined; your muscles are more controlled, stronger. you squeeze him with herculean strength, milking him for all he’s worth. gaz buries his face into your hair to muffle the satisfied groans that stream from him, taking you deeper, deeper, so that when he cums, you can feel it in your guts.

needless to say, anal becomes a regularity after that.

[star-girl-05]

New Years Resolutions

James Wilson x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

There was one thing that House did really well: he threw amazing parties. Even if you despise House you want an invite to his parties. This year House went all out for New Years. Everyone was buzzing about the party and when the time finally came, you were not disappointed. 

By the time it was eleven you were drunk, along with the rest of the party. The only difference between you and them is the fact that they hold their liquor much better than you. You don’t feel sick no that's not the problem no your problem is when you get drunk you get frisky. Your current victim is your boss' best friend James Wilson.

Sober you thought Wilson was hot so drunk you thought he was a god. How could you not flirt with him especially when he’s flirting back? At least you think he’s flirting back. Wait does making out with you count as flirting? You should ask Cameron, right after you finish making the hickey on his neck darker. 

“GUYS THE COUTDOWNS STARTED” someone shouts. You pull away from Wilson watching as everyone starts pairing off. Shit you forgot to get a person to kiss at midnight. You were looking forward to that. 

"FIVE" 

"FOUR"

You feel a tug on your arm and you turn back to Wilson. He's pushing his lips back against yours. Your hands settle in his hair, you're so lost in the kiss you almost forgot it was New Years till the whole party erupts in cheers.

Wilson pulls away making you pout, “My New year's resolution is to make-out with you every single day” that made your pout drop a smile forming on your face.

“Make it every hour and you’ve got a deal." He gives you a dorky smile before kissing you again. 

“Jesus you two are you removing each other's tonsils?" House shouted making everyone that heard laugh. You and Wilson didn’t even bother to spare House a glance. This is the best New Years ever.