#I’m not where I was but I’m not where I want to be and so I’ve been trapped in thsi state of limbo for a whole year and I’m SICK of it

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, first lesson, dumbification, praise, he's so nerdy, squırting, unprotected, mdni.

nerd! nanami who ends up teaching you a few ‘fundamentals’ of squirting after you end up gushing out by accident.

“oh, my,” he’d huskily croon, taking a short glance at your body that’s laid flat on his timber desk. mousy eyes zero up ‘n down your entire frame before he groans, feeling your legs snake around his slim torso. after another hourly long session of cramming your brain with pounds of boring information, you’d probably forget by the next day, you told nanami that you wanted to try out ‘penetration.’ and now, that came with you gushing straight out with his meaty shaft buried snugly deep inside of you. he grows quiet, smacking his lips as he feels your slobbering cunt dripping wetly like a running never-ending faucet. it’s almost adorable with the way your face scrunches up and you’re clawing at the buckle of his drooping belt with shaky hands. “we haven’t gone over that area yet, sweetheart,” and you’re moaning, feeling your back tickle against the scattered piles of marked papers that laid directly underneath you. “ah, ah. don’t close ��em,” he purrs, staring as your stick-glossed quavery legs try to snap themselves shut. “let me examine the wet problem a bit closer.”

“w- was that supposed to happen?” you breathe through rushed pants, frantically chewing on your bottom lip as you watch him pull out. he’s slow, feeling your slight muscles tense and spasm as you drenched the entirety of his stilled dick with molasses of your webby slick. “f- fuck,” you whimper, and nanami’s pressing a pointed thumb down against the pearly top part of your tender clit. gradually, he’s swirling a plethora of exaggerated shapes alllll around your tender entrance, lowering his head once his turgid cock’s fully out of you.

with a placid hum, nanami nods. “don’t fret, sweet thing. it’s normal,” and you prepare a deep, heavy breath as you try to peek down, watching nanami re-adjust his clear-framed glasses. “but, do you think you can do that again? i’m . . having a bit of trouble with my vision,” and he softly presses a chaste kiss against your cunt. shortly after, a slimy dewy web of stringy juices merrily glues against his lips. “i believe if my hypothesis is correct . . if ‘m closer like thiiiis,” and you moan, feeling the cold lenses of his glasses press right up against your puffed folds. “you’ll help me solve just how much of a wet girl you can get for me this time.”

openly, nanami eyes at your sopping pussy that’s just pouring from all areas with so many dewdrops of slick. a shimmery stream of your syrupy arousal cascades down the slot of your entrance and oh- it’s so pretty. at least to him.

if you squinted enough, you could see the obscene mirroring reflection of the shiny glossed view that rests between your legs from the clear lenses of his glasses. “clitoral glands,” he starts to ramble, rubbing a thumb near the top bulb-shaped part of your twitching heat. “clitoral body,” and you moan, feeling him swerve his digit down lower. “but let’s skip to . . . her,” nanami coos huskily, and you gasp once his round thumb plugs itself inside you after just a few loose inches. you swallowed that single digit right up oh-so blissfully.

like a hidden trick of a magician—his finger disappears inside of your cunt, and it presses against a particular small texture right above your lower opening. “. . that pretty urethra of yours.”

there - that’s where you felt the exact pressure of yourself gushing out, creaming down his cock with such a vivid risqué spray.

you’re still getting over it as your jaw dangles open—mouth cutely wholly ajar and all. as nanami continues to toy with your slobbering clit, he silently grumbles whatever extra clitoris facts underneath his breath. a single finger that was tucked inside of your gummy orifice gradually transitions into two, and you let off the sweetest moan that rang against his ears.

“such a pretty pussy from an even prettier girl,” and his words smokily deepen as he loudly ‘pops!’ both fingers out of your drenched slit. it’s all puffy now, drooling from each slippery flap. nanami sits up before re-aligning his milky-covered tip against your sobbing cunt.. “mini pop quiz,” he grumbles, letting off a deep sigh once his flushed crownhead languidly slides its way between the split of your folds. you’re laid back against the desk with a pout twisting across both sides of your lips.

pop… quiz?

nanami adjusts his crooked glasses by shoving them slightly back with a middle finger before humming. “riddle me this,” and a sweet moan drags its way past your throat once he’s smearing his bulbous tip across your sticky entrance.

left-to-right and it’s hypnotic. “what is the majorly important gland of the clit that helps lubricate the vagina properly?” and nanami presses a large hand on your tummy, simpering at the cute silence for an answer. with a snicker, he tilts his head at your quirked brow. “oh- c’mon. this is easy, we talked about this two days ago.”

“t . . the um-” you stammer, the throbbing of your clit increasing with each delicious second that passed. with your mind joggling its empty memory, you inhale a moan that was desperately trying to escape from your spit-stained lips. “the clitoral glands?”

“close, but no, dumb girl,” and with a smack, nanami whacks his swollen tip against the front of your weeping pussy. you finally release that moan you were holding onto with heave after heave puffing out your chest. “try again. this time, actually use that brain for me, yeah?”

you pout, and after about four seconds you left off a whiny grump. “is it . . the skene’s glands?”

“good girl,” and you let off a needy mewl once he rubs a palm against your pussy. his personal way of praising you without words, even after calling you a ‘good girl.’

it’s a soft, enticing rub that smears the entirety of your slick around his entire palm, coating it right away.

you’re so wet - pathetically drenched that you stick your candied juices all over the prints of his hand.

“it’s very important that you know about the skene’s glands. just like how important it is for me to teach you how soaked you are,” and you don’t even realize it, but the second he spanks against your cunt once more with his palm, you’re squirting . . again.

it’s a thick shiny geyser that ends up spurting out of you with a loud pssssh! and your toes curled in ecstatic rapture. you’re whining at how sudden and abrupt it was, and nanami just shakes his head with a wry smile. a hand maneuvers in a circular rotation against your pussy as you finish your three-second monumental high. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you whimper out the same colorful syllables through your lips as your eyelids droop.

as you’re panting, still feeling the scattered bundles of paper rub and prick against the back of your skin, you eye nanami through murky peripherals. pretty ‘n glossed-eyed, you let off a shaky puff before moaning. “did . . did i pass?”

“not quite,” nanami takes his glasses off. they were still a bit soaked from earlier, a bit of your own droplets of literal juices fogging the lenses before he gave it a sweet lick. filthy. nanami squints at your twitching body before slithering a fat thumb down your tender, convulsing pussy for the nth and last time. “think we still have more basics to go over,” and he positions his head right back down between the eagle-spread valley of your legs, whistling riiiight between your driveling, puffy slit.

“besides,” and you whine once he gives your cunt its final, sloppy spank. “my only criticism— is that, we could work on that squirt velocity a little bit more,” and he pats your cunt before staring straight at your pulsating entrance, hungrily licking his lips.

“i wouldn’t mind training her, heh.”

[classyrbf]

dad bod!toji who’s still the big, muscular man he is but you can tell he’s gotten older and his metabolism has slowed down a little bit. He’s gotten chubbier in his arms, thighs, tummy. Not to mention, he’s started to gray and grow stubble on his face, the perfect salt and pepper mix. Toji says he hates it, always moaning and groaning about needing to hit the gym but you…? You fucking love it. It takes everything in you not to ravish his right then and there, wanting to pounce on him every second of the day. You’re always kissing up on him, grabbing on him, dragging him to the laundry room while the kids watching tv so you could have a quickie. And he’s so confused on where all this extra energy and affection has sprouted from, but he loves it. You’re always so eager for him, fucking your self on his cock, him waking up to you kissing his neck and stroking his dick, dropping to your knees and giving him head without his asking. He wonders what he’s done to deserve all of it.

He’s standing in the mirror one late night with his shirt off, examining just how chubby he’s gotten. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure, thinking how gorgeous you are and how you shouldn’t settle for him. “I’m losing myself,” he grumbles. “What’s going on, baby?” You walk in the room, a smile immediately on your face when you see his shirt is off, definitely a sight to see. “I need to head to the gym is what’s going on.” He flexes his muscles in the mirror. You giggle and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist. “I think you look so handsome with a little weight on you,” you whisper in his ear. “Does something to me.” You nibble on his ear before trailing kisses along his jaw, and that’s when Toji realizes why you’ve been so affectionate with him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

Just mere minutes later, you’re riding him like your life depends on it, slamming your hips down on his, creating a sticky mess between you two. “S-shit,” he pants, “slow down, mama—fuck!” His bruising grips on your hips only tighten the faster you ride him. Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, clenching around his throbbing cock. “I can’t…you get so me so hot and bothered, baby.” You grin, running your hands down his chest.

He swears he could cum right then and there, with the way you were riding him and that look in your eye, he was ready to give you another kid. And now you were kissing his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. “You’re so perfect, Toji,” you mewl. “Fuck me.” His eyes roll back before fluttering shut. “Keep going, yes, yes, just like that, mama. You’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he groans. You keep that same rhythm, squeezing your pussy around him, milking him. He suddenly wraps his arms around you, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Ah, fuck!” You cry out, your cum dripping down his shaft. His thrusts grow sloppier and harder and next thing you know he’s filling you up, pushing his cum deeper inside of you with slow thrusts. Laughter erupts from your chest as you catch your breath, kissing him slowly and passionately.

“Mmm, goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you to his chest. “Now I finally know why you’re so goddamn horny all the time,” he chuckles. You blink up at him with a small smirk. “Can you blame me?” You trace patterns on his skin. He can see the look in your eye, that hungry stare you’re giving him, wanting more. “What are you thinking about, hm?” He caresses your cheek. “Oh nothing…just how badly I wanna give you some head right now, but I’ll wait.”

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[falesten-iw]

Survival in Gaza is a fight for everyone and everything, not just humans. Every living thing is caught up in this nightmare, from the smallest creatures to the strongest among us. Take this little cat, for instance. She’s from Jabalia refugee camp, Al-Tarens neighborhood, house number 96, sixth street. Yeah, I know her address. She’s one of us, a Palestinian too, sitting alone in the rubble, her fur matted and dusty, with a raw, swollen eye that speaks of all she’s been through. She’s lost her hearing; explosions shake her tiny frame, but she doesn’t even react anymore. And yet, her will to survive? Unbroken.

In so many ways, she’s Gaza in a nutshell. Life here is a brutal, endless test of endurance. The genocide, the bitter cold, the soaring prices that turn basic needs like food, shelter, medicine into unattainable luxuries. These are things my family and countless others can only dream of.

For families in Gaza, survival itself has become a privilege. Nonprofits that once helped have pulled out, forced away by the very forces that keep us oppressed. And the few who stayed? Acting as middlemen, diverting the aid that’s supposed to be for us. Some prioritize their own networks in distributing aid; others resell what little is sent. Some even claim that half of donations get eaten up by "logistics costs." And then there’s aid that supposedly just "never arrives." So, families like mine are left to fend for ourselves, stripped of even the basic dignity that comes with having our needs met.

I look at this little cat, and I’m struck by the fragility of life here. My family’s hanging by a thread, surviving day to day in a world that seems indifferent to everything we’re going through. And yet, like her, we just keep going. Not because we’re strong or resilient, but because, honestly, what other choice do we have?

If this hits home for you, if this little cat’s fight feels like something you understand, please consider helping. Every donation, no matter the amount, goes directly to where it’s needed most. It can mean a bit of warmth, a moment of safety, maybe even a sliver of hope in these times that feel darker than anything.

From a heart that’s been broken too many times, thank you for standing with us.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 250 SEK is equivalent to 25 dollars, and 506 SEK equals 50 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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@paper-mario-wiki @prisonhannibal @a-shade-of-blue @ramshackledtrickster

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[her-favorite]

your instagram whilst dating spencer reid <3

yourusername

liked by aaronhotchner65, agentcheetobreath and 112 others

people tagged: drspencerreid

yourusername he came up to me and said “can you take a picture? i want to pose.” ??

babygirl.penelope someone get him a new phone, i’m so sick of his flip phone! old man 🙄!!!

liked by yourusername

drspencerreid y/n, why did you like this?

drspencereid But you told me I looked cool. :-(

yourusername you do!!!

drspencereid :-D

ch0colatethunder she’s lying, kid.

yourusername

liked by ssadavidrossi, goforgreenaway and 123 others

people tagged: emilyprentits and drspencerreid

yourusername hottest agents

aaronhotchner65 Tell them to get their shoes off of the table.

yourusername hotch i took this yesterday

babygirl.penelope my pretties!!!!

liked by yourusername

drspencerreid Emily, why would you make your name that?

emilyprentits because I can..?

agentcheetobreath I warned you not to post this, I told you Hotch would see it!! (cute picture btw :)!)

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by agentcheetobreath and 93 others

people tagged: drspencerreid and aaronhotchner65

yourusername got sent this earlier and i’m still in disbelief that hotch willingly got in a picture with spence LMAO

drspencerreid Hey! What is that supposed to mean? :-/

drspencerreid Also, what does ‘LMAO’ mean?

babygirl.penelope sweet, sweet Spencer…

ch0colatethunder pretty boy got hotch in a pic?? what did i miss??

ssadavidrossi Take this kid’s phone away.

liked by yourusername

drspencerreid Why did you like this one, too? :-(

yourusername

liked by ch0colatethunder, ssadavidrossi and 102 others

people tagged: agentcheetobreath, drspencerreid and emilyprentits

yourusername the prettiest princesses 💘

drspencerreid I’m not the princess, you are.

yourusername yes you are?? you spent 20 mins this morning trying to find your left shoe - cinderella much??

drspencerreid >:-(

cheetobreath that’s why you were late??

emilyprentits hot.

liked by yourusername

aaronhotchner65 Was this taken during a briefing? Pay attention, everyone.

yourusername okay, dad

babygirl.penelope okay dad

drspencerreid Okay, Dad.

agentcheetobreath okay, dad.

emilyprentits okay dad

ssadavidrossi Okay, dad.

aaronhotchner65 David?

a/n: penelope would be the queen of emojis and i stand by that - also i can see her trying to help spence & morgan try to make a user LMAO rossi and hotch are old enough to where i feel like their users would just be their full names bc they’re so used to writing/typing it 😭 jj would be such a mom <3

this was legit so fun to make - i kinda love smau. since tumblr only allows 10 pics (so lame) i will def be making another 😽! - also despite my random urges to delete this acc and disappear, this is what you’re getting in the meantime 🙈

[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[museanddream]

Holy (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Summary: You’d do anything for Alexia, that’s why you’re her good girl.

Warnings: 🔞 | praise kink, anal sex, bottom!reader

Word count: 3.3k

“Shh, it’s fine. You’ll take it.” A pause, and then a question. “Isn’t that right?”

Alexia’s voice is soft, the hand that strokes up and down your side even softer, but it doesn’t distract you from the blunt head of the dildo harnessed to her hips that’s currently nudging against your asshole. She doesn’t push in yet, maybe sensing your anxiety, but the silicone pressed against the tight ring of muscle is a gentle reminder of what’s to come.

Realising that Alexia is still waiting for your answer, you gently breathe out and say, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Alexia echoes. “Of course you’ll take it. You’re always such a good girl for me.”

She’s already given you a teaser of what it’s going to feel like, already stretched you open with three of her fingers, but you don’t think anything could have prepared you for the sensation as she starts to push forward with her hips. It’s not so much the feeling itself, but the thought of what she’s doing, the realisation that Alexia is taking your ass. That, and the look of wonder on Alexia’s face as she watches where she ever so slowly enters you.

You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly religious, but the whole experience feels some kind of holy.

“Ale,” you whimper.

She responds by hushing you again, then draws another noise from your throat as she starts rocking her hips slowly back and forth, even with just the head of her cock inside you.

“I’ve got you.” Alexia’s voice is low and calm. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

With each gentle thrust, she sheathes herself deeper within you. You already feel so much fuller than you did with her fingers, yet it’s somehow still not enough. You want her to fill you, to fuck you, to take your ass in the same way she would normally use your cunt.

“Alexia.” You repeat her name, trying to urge her deeper. “Please.”

Your hand reaches down and grapples at her hip, your fingers eventually wrapping around the hanging end of one of the harness straps, trying to urge her closer.

Her hips stilling, she swats at your hand, a little crease forming between her eyebrows as she shakes her head.

“Enough of that,” she warns you. “I can only make you feel good if you behave.”

You drop your hand obediently, instead trying to use only your eyes to implore Alexia to just move.

“Good girl,” she praises you, causing your pussy to clench around nothing, which only emphasises the stretch of her cock in your ass. “You don’t need to do anything except lie there and look pretty. I’m going to take such good care of you. My perfect little whore.”

The way that Alexia says the word is reverent, like it’s a term of endearment. You’d be willing to do pretty much anything to have her call you a whore again and maybe that’s her entire plan, because she takes the opportunity to slide the rest of the way in until the entire length of her cock is nestled inside you, fuller than you’ve ever felt before.

“How does that feel, cariño? How do I feel inside you?”

“Good.” Your answer is brief, unable to string together much more than single words. “Full. Fuck. Ale, so full.”

She looks down at you with a hint of pride on her face, her hands stroking up and down your thighs where they’re hooked around her waist.

“Good. I’m going to start fucking you now.”

Alexia does this sometimes, she narrates everything that’s happening while she fucks you like she’s a casual spectator, not the one actually doing it all to you. And it drives you wild, hearing her voice so cool and level while you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind with her buried to the hilt inside you.

She repositions slightly, pulling you right to the edge of the mattress so that she’s standing at the foot of the bed with your legs wrapped around her. You let out a cry as the toy shifts inside you and she soothes you with another hush.

“I’ve got you,” she says, even as she withdraws nearly all the way, before pushing back in almost as slowly.

Being fucked by Alexia is always the best kind of torture. She likes to tease and tonight has been no exception. She ate you out for what felt like an eternity before going anywhere near your asshole, working you up with her tongue on your clit until you were nearly trembling, only pulling away when you were right on the brink of orgasm.

That’s when she turned her attention to your ass. You’ve talked about it for a while but the first touch of her tongue against your rim, the stretch of her lubed-up finger breaching your asshole for the first time, is something that no amount of talking could’ve prepared you for. She worked you open slowly, adding a second finger and then a third only when she was absolutely sure you were ready for it, when you were pretty much begging for her to fill you up.

Even now, with the strap, she doesn’t rush. She’s not hesitant, but it’s slow and measured. She’s in absolute control and you can only lie there and take as much as she’s willing to give you.

“Ale,” you whine.

Without breaking the steady push of her hips, Alexia’s gaze meets yours.

“What? You want more?” She reads your mind but you don’t dare nod in response. “Am I not fucking you well enough?”

She punctuates her words by somehow pushing deeper, but still just as slow. You can feel every inch of silicone stretching you open as she slides in and out.

It’s the same as when she fucks your cunt, the same pleasurable stretch, the same feeling of having Alexia surrounding you and filling you up, yet it’s completely different too. The pleasure is more of an ache, bristling under the surface and only serving to remind you how empty your pussy is, how close you were earlier when Alexia’s mouth was on you. Each thrust into your ass feels like it’s turning you inside out.

You love it and hate it at the same time. Love the way it feels to have Alexia filling your ass. Hate the fact that she’s giving you so much and it’s somehow still not enough.

“Please, Ale. Need to come.”

Alexia’s hips still and she gives you a stern look that almost has you immediately cowering away and apologising for being so needy.

“Patience, cariño. You’ll come when I want you to come.”

You have no control over the whine that escapes from your throat.

“What’s the matter, bebé? You trust me, right?”

You take a couple of deep breaths. Alexia’s large hands are on your thighs, fingers splayed out against the soft skin and tracing tiny paths back and forth that certainly aren’t helping to temper your need for release. But you do trust her. As torturous as each second that she denies you is, if Alexia says that she’ll make you come, then you know it’ll happen.

Patience. It’s never been one of your greatest virtues. Especially not when Alexia is involved. Especially not when you’ve been wanting her to take your ass like this for what feels like forever.

Another deep exhale, then you answer, “Yeah.”

Alexia’s eyes soften, her fingers tighten appreciatively against the thighs that are still wrapped around her hips.

“So you know I’m going to take good care of you, don’t you?”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from her face.

“You’ll come for me, I promise. Just let me have my way with you first. Okay?”

Her voice soothes you, the lyrical way that her accent curls around each word. There’s comfort in having her so close and you manage to relax, even with her cock buried to the hilt in your ass.

Alexia must feel it, for she smiles and softly murmurs, “Good girl.”

She starts moving again, with more of a rhythm now. Still so full, still aching for something in your cunt or on your clit, but the feeling Alexia fucking you properly sends more endorphins to your brain with each slap of her hips against your thighs.

When she takes you like this, you’re reminded of everything you love about Alexia. The physical stuff - how strong she is, how powerful, how majestic she looks with lean muscle and sun kissed skin towering over you. But also how well she takes care of you, the reassuring softness of her hands on your thighs and the look of wonder on her face as she watches where her cock splits you open. How she knows your body well enough to give you exactly how much you can take and not a fraction more.

Alexia’s hands slide around your thighs, pushing your legs up away from their resting place around her hips. You reach down to help her, a hand behind the crease of each knee pulling your legs up towards your head, spreading yourself wide enough that she can see everything.

There’s nowhere for you to hide.

“If only you could see what I can see. Your pretty little asshole stretched open for my cock. Taking it so well.”

Her words of praise make you even wetter, if that were somehow possible. Or maybe it’s just the new position, spread out like this, that makes you feel like you’re dripping down to where her cock enters you.

Still fucking into you, Alexia doesn’t even seem to be breaking into a sweat. Like this is all so routine for her.

Like she isn’t taking your ass for the first time.

You’d maybe think she was completely unaffected by it all, if it wasn’t for the look on her face. Transfixed by the sight of you spread open, wet, and taking her so readily, you’ve never seen such hunger in her eyes, like she’s ready to devour you completely.

“You were just made for my cock, weren’t you?” She asks, her voice husky with arousal. “All your holes, just begging for me to fill them.”

One of her hands moves between your legs, brushing across your sensitive clit and collecting your arousal on her fingertips, before dipping lower to tease at your entrance.

Alexia’s voice seems to drop impossibly lower as her gaze flits up to your face and she says, “I bet you want something in here too.”

There’s a hint of a smirk on her pretty lips, coupled with a knowing look in her eyes. You hardly need to beg for her to know the truth.

But you’ll do it anyway.

“Ale,” you gasp, as her fingers toy with you, teasing, probing, but never dipping inside. “Please.”

“Of course you do. Such a perfect slut.”

Her fingers tease you, the same way she toyed with your ass earlier while prepping you for the same cock that she still rhythmically thrusts into you. Giving you just a hint of what you want, but not enough to satisfy you.

“Ale.”

“Go on,” she says, the curl of her lips taunting you. “Tell me what you want.”

Alexia already knows what you want, proving it by pushing two of her fingers into you just as far as the first knuckle, but she withdraws them just as quickly to rub tiny circles around your clit instead.

“Your fingers.”

The fingers in question slide torturously slowly down from your clit, stopping at your entrance just as Alexia asks, “Where?”

She’s such a fucking tease. You’d perhaps call her out on it, if you weren’t helplessly impaled on her cock. If you weren’t reliant on her for the orgasm that your body feels like it’s needed for hours.

So instead you manage to helplessly whine, “My pussy.”

Without breaking the steady rock of her hips, she starts to push her slippery fingers into your cunt. The stretch as she coaxes two of her fingers inside you steals your breath away. You’ve taken them countless times before, but never like this. Never with her cock already filling your ass.

“Ale…”

Her name passes your lips like a warning. A warning against what, you’re not exactly sure. Maybe that you’re never going to be the same after this. Or that she might have to fuck you like this every time for you to be fully satisfied.

Or that you’re going to come really fast now that Alexia is fucking both of your holes.

Each thrust of the strap into your ass is shattering your existence into thousands of tiny pieces, each press of her fingers into your cunt is reassembling those splinters into a different version of yourself.

“Ale.”

She ignores you, though you could swear that the snap of her hips against your ass speeds up just a fraction after you breathe her name like a prayer.

When she presses her thumb against your clit each time she curls her fingers inside you, you know that you’re a goner.

“Alexia, I’m going to come.”

“No,” comes Alexia’s immediate reply. “You’re going to wait.”

“I can’t.”

Her free hand comes up to your jaw, with her thumb on one side and her fingers splayed across the opposite cheek. Her grip is gentle, yet firm enough to lift your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet hers.

“You can.” Alexia tells you, before she throws it back to you with a question. “Can’t you?”

Maybe you’re drunk on the pleasure of her stretching you open in two places, maybe it’s just the intensity of her eye contact that is compelling you to agree with her. But Alexia has given you absolutely no reason to not trust her tonight.

As much as you can with her fingers gripping your jaw, you nod.

“Good girl.”

Until now, Alexia has been so careful with you. Despite the supposed vulgarity of where she’s fucking you, it’s never been about taking something from you, instead what she can give you.

Only now does she start to be a little more selfish.

She leans over you, one hand still wrapped loosely around your throat like a necklace and the other curling two fingers into your cunt. Her hips pick up the pace, finally taking her own pleasure.

Alexia fucks you hard, hips snapping against your ass, but you can take it. You want it, you want her, and there’s just a split second where you appreciate how skilfully she’s primed you to be able to take her like this, before it overwhelms you.

Alexia is everywhere all at once. The pleasure almost smothers you, or maybe it is Alexia’s hand around your throat cutting off your air supply. All you know is that suddenly you’re holding your breath as you try not to come before she allows it. Every muscle in your body is tightly coiled, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs shake from the exertion of holding it all back.

“Alexia.” You manage to choke out her name in another warning.

“Yes,” Alexia hisses, even as she continues to fuck you. “Dios mio, you’re so good for me. Giving me all your precious holes to fuck. Letting me own you.”

“Ale … can’t …”

“My perfect girl.”

Her thumb on your clit already had you teetering on the precipice. But it’s her praise that pushes you headfirst into your orgasm.

The pleasure of it wrecks you. You’re spinning through space and time, no idea which way is up and which is down. As your back arches and your body shakes, all you’re really aware of is Alexia, her hands on your neck and inside you cunt, her cock still filling your ass. And she’s the only thing that matters, that and the way she makes you feel.

As the pleasure bleeds away into pure affection, you realise that Alexia is still rutting into you. You feel the stretch more than ever, especially as the aftershocks have you still clenching around the toy, and you open your mouth to ask her to slow down, when you realise that she’s close too.

The signs are unmissable. The little crease between her eyebrows, the glaze in her eyes, the tiny grunts she lets out with each thrust.

“Yes, baby,” you encourage her. Her fingers slip out of your cunt and she leans further over you, single-minded as she fucks you with one goal in mind. “Come for me. Come in my ass.”

As well as she knows your body, you know hers too, and you know exactly what to say to tip her over the edge into her orgasm. Sure enough, just a couple of thrusts later, her hips are stuttering inside you as the climax hits her.

You wrap yourself around Alexia, hands flat against the back of her shoulders and legs hooked around the small of her back, holding her as close as possible while she shudders through her orgasm. Alexia responds by pressing herself into you, swathes of hot skin against yours and her face nuzzling into your neck as the last few aftershocks tremble until she falls still in your arms.

For long moments, the only movement is the steady rise and fall as you both catch your breath. Your breathing syncs up with Alexia’s, until you’re both relaxed and heavy-limbed.

“Wow,” Alexia exhales, when she finally pushes herself up onto one arm so that she can look down at you with a warm smile, her eyes glowing with affection. Her free hand sweeps away some of the hair that is plastered to the sheen of sweat on your forehead. “You are just incredible.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, because in the wake of your orgasm, being praised by her is somehow more reason to feel shy than the fact she’s just taken your ass.

The thought makes you clench around the toy that’s still inside you, except that the sensation is much less comfortable than it was when you were brimming with pleasure and desperate to get off.

Alexia must see the wince that you try to conceal, because she presses her lips against yours, then murmurs, “I need to pull out. I’ll be gentle.”

She eases the toy out slowly, perhaps with even more care than she took to fill you. Part of you wishes that she’d pull out in one swift movement, like ripping off a band-aid, but soon you feel the toy slip free and finally, finally you can relax.

Alexia makes quick work of the harness, expertly unstrapping herself and tossing the toy to the floor beside the bed with a thud, before she settles on her back and pulls you into her side, her strong arms wrapping you in their cocooning warmth.

You settle against her, your head resting on her shoulder and your leg hooked across her hips, wondering when you became so lucky to get to call yourself hers.

Alexia, clearly, has other thoughts on her mind.

Her lips press against your temple, then she murmurs amusedly against your skin, “We’ll try a bigger one next time, no?”

You’re perfectly content like this, perfectly in love with this incredible woman, and you’d probably let her take you in any which way she wants to.

Right now, however, you’re too sated and exhausted to think of anything except sleep.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ale,” you mumble sleepily into her shoulder.

You feel her lips curl up in a smile where they’re pressed against your forehead as her arms squeeze you closer.

“Amor, that’s not a no…”

[cosmicalily]

"pilates princess" a changbin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: i was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how there's a proper lack of changbin fluff fics on tumblr atm and i decided to make it my mission of the day to change that! i absolutely love binnie, he's the silliest, sweetest guy and i was thinking of how to blend his gym obsession with his adorable personality, and a (very much so in love) pilates princess was born!!

Seo Changbin did not have time for girls.

According to his roommate, Han Jisung, his one and only true love was the gym, where he spent almost every spare second of his day. His diet consisted of protein powder, chicken breasts, green smoothies and instant ramen. He only drank cold brews with absolutely no sugar, because he couldn’t stand sweet things. 

He was pretty quiet and some would say intimidating. Didn’t say a lot, didn’t do a lot.

But now, watching you, he felt something different. He felt strange. He felt soft.

Changbin looked over at you curiously from the bench press, pausing to catch his breath for a moment as you stretched your body like a cat, toes pointed, shoulders straight.

Dressed in a pale pink sports bra with a matching long-sleeved ballet wrap and black leggings, to say you looked a little out of place in a predominantly male gym was an understatement. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, a sticker-decorated drink bottle by the side of your mat and an iced milky-green drink beside it.

You breathed slowly, stretching your arms forward and touching your toes before sitting straight, cocking your head at your one-man audience.

“Why are you watching me?” you wrinkled your nose in disgust, self-consciously placing a hand over your chest. “I’m here for the exact same reason as you, it’s not my fault the girls’ dorms don’t have a gym.”

Changbin flushed. “I’m sorry. It probably seemed creepy, fuck, it’s not, I promise. I’m just . . . curious. What were you doing? I’ve never seen anyone exercise like that. Everyone who comes in either beats the shit out of the boxing bag or lifts.”

“Pilates,” you smiled, looking less uncomfortable. “I got my instructing licence a bit ago, but the place I teach at is only open in the mornings. So if I’ve had an early class or lecture and want to work out in the afternoon, I have to come here. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here voluntarily. You guys are gross.”

He pouted. “I’m not. I’m cute.” 

“Yeah, sure you are, princess,” you chuckled, taking a sip from the green drink. You noticed him looking at it. “It’s matcha, do you want some?”

“Fuck no, my friend said that tastes like grass,” Changbin shook his head furiously.

You laughed at him, inching the cup closer to him. “C’mon, try a sip. You’ll like this one, it’s sweet. I always get vanilla in it since I can’t stand bitter drinks.”

He very cautiously leaned forward, looking at you carefully in case you recoiled when he pressed his lips on the straw. You didn’t, seeming less and less shy by the second, watching him eagerly as he swallowed.

“...and the verdict is?” you prompted.

“Where can I get my own?”

Jisung looked around Changbin’s room in shock, eyes comically wide as he took in his surroundings. Sure, it had been a week while he’d been staying with his parents, but surely Changbin’s life hadn’t changed so . . . drastically? Or had he somehow been invaded by some kind of pink fairy?

A pale pink sports bra lay strewn on Changbin’s bed, accompanied by a pair of soft grey flared leggings and a drink bottle. There was a handbag too, with ribbons and cute fluffy keychains, all belongings that most certainly were not his. But there were slightly more permanent looking changes, too. A pink MyMelody sticker on Changbin’s previously pristine laptop. A little beaded bow charm on his duffle bag. Two polaroids pinned above his bed; one of a girl making a kissy face, another of her with Changbin, pinching his cheek as he beamed at her adoringly.

Did Seo Changbin have a girlfriend?

And why wasn’t she a black-donning, gym obsessed weirdo like he was?

“Oh hi, Ji, you’re back!” Changbin smiled wide, something that Jisung swore he had never seen in all his time being his roommate. Or at least, not for a very long time. But Changbin had a whole different air about him; his body, although still buff, didn’t seem as tense as it usually was. His brow wasn’t furrowed and there was colour in his cheeks. And, for the love of God, had he blow dried his hair?

Jisung smiled back. “Hey, Bin. What are you drinking? New protein powder?”

“It’s a vanilla matcha, you should try it,” he handed it to Jisung, who took a tentative sip then stared, open-mouthed in shock.

“That’s . . . sweet.”

“No shit,” Changbin laughed at him, thumping his friend on the back. “It’s good, right? Y/N introduced me to them.”

Jisung handed it back, still suspicious that the real Seo Changbin had been abducted and that the man in front of him was a secret twin. “Oh, nice. Is that her stuff in your room?”

“Sure is,” a sweet voice chuckled from behind Changbin. A petite girl flew through the door, wrapping her arms tight around Changbin’s waist. “I’m Y/N, Jisung. It’s nice to finally meet you! Binnie’s told me so much about you two.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you’re . . . ?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Changbin said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, but he’s the babygirl. Everyone knows that,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “He’s a pilates princess now, Jisung, I’ve converted him. Surprised he wasn’t doing it earlier; it’s very him, you know.”

Jisung blinked slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.

“Seo Changbin? A princess?” he mumbled.

“Sure I am,” Changbin shrugged, and Jisung promptly fainted in shock.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is in the hospital for something and maybe another doctor or nurse doesn’t realize she’s remus’s gf and is being rude to her. And doctor!remus overhears and saves the day lol<3

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention (not really description) of severe period pains, healthcare gaslighting

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 632 words

“Have you tried taking pain medications like ibuprofen?” 

You clench your jaw. “Yes, I have.” 

“And how long has your period lasted?” 

“It started on Tuesday.” 

The nurse looks up from his chart, unimpressed. “So it’s only been a few days.” 

“Yes, but the pain started before that. And this has been happening for—” 

“Are you aware that many women experience period pains before the start of their periods?” 

Your skin feels hot. Frustrated tears threaten to clog your throat, and you fight the urge to bend over to relieve some of the pain in your abdomen. “Yes. I know that.” 

“One a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” 

“Eight.” Your voice nearly breaks. 

Your nurse pushes out a sigh. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s not uncommon either.” He sets down his chart, leveling with you. “Listen, we treat a lot of really sick and hurting people here. We have lots of patients to get to today, so if you think what you’re experiencing could be normal period pain—”

“Excuse me?” The nurse falls silent as Remus pulls aside the curtain, stepping into your little room. You have to shove down the urge to cry just for seeing him. He looks between the two of you, seemingly confused but obviously displeased. “What’s going on?” 

“Hi,” you offer meekly.

Your nurse turns to Remus with a long-suffering look that’s nearly conspiratorial as well. It’s clear he expects to be agreed with. “Doctor Lupin, sorry to waste your time. You’re welcome to check her out, but after an initial interview we’re fairly certain she’s experiencing regular menstrual cramps.” 

Your face flames at his use of we. You hadn’t agreed to any of that. 

“It’s not a waste,” Remus says, clipped. “I asked her to come here, because her menstrual cramps are abnormally severe and prolonged, and I’ve already ordered an ultrasound to find out why. Are you in the habit of deterring our patients from seeking care?” 

Your boyfriend’s tone grows increasingly agitated as he speaks, and you watch with a guilty sort of satisfaction as the blood drains from the nurse’s face. 

When he offers up no answer, Remus’ expression hardens. “I’ve got it from here. Find me later, please.” 

You barely get to see your nurse leave. Remus steps closer to you, eclipsing your view, the anger in your boyfriend’s expression melding into concern.

“Hi, honey.” His hand wraps around your arm. “How is it today?” 

You feel your face crumple under his caring gaze. “A little better,” you manage. 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, thumb sweeping gently over your skin. “Still nauseous?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he ask you to rate your pain?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what did you say?” 

You shrug. You’re never sure how accurate you are with these scales. “I said an eight. It might be a seven, though, I just” —your voice cracks— “wanted him to believe me.” 

 “Oh, baby.” Remus wraps you up in a hug, cupping your head to his chest. “I’m sorry he treated you that way, sweetheart. It was completely out of order. I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault.” 

Remus makes a tsking sound like he doesn’t quite agree. “Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?”

You shrug, a bit bashful. “I didn’t want to, like, name drop you.” 

Remus smiles, shaking his head in astoundment. “You’re absurd.” He gives your cheek a loving hold. His eyes lock on yours, steady and earnest. “We’re going to sort this, alright?”

“Oh, don’t involve me, please. Talk to him after I’m gone.” 

“I mean your cramps,” Remus laughs. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “But yes, after you’re gone.”

[lumibuns-blog]

Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.” 

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected  10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

Sorry for the lack of posting! Schools been getting busy and I'm working on getting a draft of a book ready to send to a publisher so it's been a bit hectic but I absolutely love posting for you guys here on tumblr (srsly all your comments make my day) so I'm going to try and keep posting as regularly as I can! working on a longer chapter for my Ghost and Soap's roomie series rn so that should be out somewhat soon! thank you all so so much for your support.

[ellecdc]

hello elle!! i saw you asking for pregnant reader/ dad marauders and i was thinking maybe one about one of them reading about baby’s and music and they’re all discussing what kind of music they wanna play if they want classical or baby music and tiny baby who cannot care any less just starts crawling towards the vinyls and picks something like bowie or queen?? i can imagine sirius losing his mind about it, i just know it would be funny!! i love the ones you’ve made so far i’m obsessed, you’re so talented <3

aaah so cute! thanks for the request!!! <3

dad!marauders x mum!reader who try to musicify their child [850 words]

CW: kid fic, written as fem!reader but no gender is specified - Remus calls you dove, one slightly dirty joke if you want it to be, fluff [I tried to avoid naming their kid for this one but it didn't feel right. I know I like to have Sirius' daughter's name to be 'Aurora' but idk what to do with poly fics yet]

You’d long since given up on trying to spare your child from their father’s nonsense. You have a feeling that Remus had too, though he couldn’t always help but stoke the coals of nonsense where he saw fit.

“I think it’s fine she’s not said her first word yet!” Sirius commented from the floor, sitting cross legged with his arms held aloft should he need to catch your daughter if her chubby little legs gave out on her. “Some say that if it takes them a long time to start speaking, then they’ll just start speaking in full sentences.”

“Yeah?” Remus commented sceptically as he sifted through the mail. “Who’s they?” 

“The books! The baby books!”

“The baby books?” Remus deadpanned, shooting you wink to let you know he was taking the piss.

“Yes! That’s why we need to start her on music now.” Sirius proclaimed, earning him a scoff from James who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, also supervising your toddlers toddling. 

“Oh? We need to start her on music now? But when I wanted to start her on music back-”

“You didn’t want to start her on music, Jamie.” Sirius scolded. “You wanted to start her on ABBA.” 

“You take that back.” James demanded, pointing a severe finger at Sirius.

“Okay, okay.” Remus commented with his hands up placatingly. “Let’s all just take it easy, alright? There’s no need for this to escalate.” 

Sirius and James stared each other down a moment longer before they relented. 

“But we should probably get her started on Beethoven or Motzart.” Remus added as he disappeared into the kitchen, earning him ‘oi’s of protest from his two most theatrical partners.

“You’re trying to make my daughter boring.” Sirius accused.

“No.” Remus argued as he returned with a frozen teether for said daughter, moving to sit on the couch next to the chair you were situated in. “I’m trying to make our daughter intelligent.” 

“Y/N.” James whined then, causing you to look up from the book you were only pretending to read. “Moony’s trying to turn our daughter into a swot.”

“Remus.” You drawled in your most bored tone.

Remus played the part of a beat down suburban father. “Yes dear?” 

“Stop trying to give our daughter a fighting chance in McGonagall’s advanced transfiguration course.”

“Yes dear.”

“Thank you.” Sirius professed, smiling greatly at the child when she gurgled something around the teether. “Is that right, sweet girl? That almost sounded like the Arabic in the bridge of Bohemian Rhapsody!” 

“No,” James argued, “that sounded like the opening notes of Super Trouper.” 

“It sounded like the poor thing is cutting another tooth.” You countered as you held your arms open, earning you a slobbery smile around the teether she refused to spit out, watching as she took two unstable steps towards you before falling onto her bum. 

“Our little lovie won’t let that slow her down though, will she?” James cheered, earning him a squeal from his daughter as she took off crawling in the opposite direction.

“What would be her first words if she started speaking in full sentences, though?” You pondered aloud as you watched her stand on her knees in front of the record collection, banging her teether against the legs of the turntable. 

“Probably reminding Sirius to ‘use a sodding coaster’.” James chuckled.

“Or the common conciliatory ‘okay, moons’.” Remus snorted. 

“No! It should absolutely be ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’!” Sirius interjected.

“That’s kind of a mouthful for a wee babe.” Remus considered.

“You’re kind of a mouthful.” Sirius muttered.

“What about ‘mischief managed’?” You offered then, causing all three boys to sigh sentimentally. 

“No.” Sirius decided after a moment. “Her first word will definitely be ‘dove’.”

“I agree.” James added with a nod in your direction. “That’s probably the most said word in this house.”

“That’s not true.” Remus argued; his cheeks dusted with the faintest pink. 

Any further teasing at Remus’ sake was curtailed by an excited squeal from the child who was now standing at her full height with a record in one hand and its sleeve in the other.

“No way!” Both James and Sirius chorused, though it was James in excitement and Sirius in devastation. 

James all but launched himself at his daughter and scooped her up into his arms, eliciting even more delighted squealing as he placed the record of her choosing on the turntable and hit play. 

And what started playing from your well-used record player but Side Two of ABBA’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life; ooooh!” James sang horribly out of tune to his daughter's delight and Sirius’ chagrin as you and Remus shared a look. 

“She’s not going to stand a chance in advanced transfiguration, is she?” 

“Perhaps not,” you offered as you watched James sing loudly at Sirius who beamed up at James and their daughter from his place on the floor, forgoing any act of irritation as he sang and bobbed along for your baby's sake, “but at least she’ll know how to dance.”

[alwaysthefool]

Your turn to be a cat (x Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier)

Warnings: Suggestive, might have minor spoilers for cat companion memories, kinda cringe ngl

Tags: Fluff (literally), MC/Reader, no gendered pronouns for you

Synopsis: This time, you’re the one who gets a cat tail and a second set of ears.

Zayne

“When you said medical emergency, this isn’t what I had in mind.” Zayne looked at your ears, a first aid kid in his hand. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since you texted him, telling him it was something dire and you couldn’t go to the hospital, and there he was, at your door, stifling a smile.

“Don’t laugh!” You scolded him, turning red, the tail you tried to hide inside your hoodie peeking out. You grabbed it immediately, forcing it back in. You pulled him inside, shutting the door to your apartment.

“Don’t fold your tail, it’ll be bad for your back.” Zayne spoke, taking off his shoes and keeping the first aid kit near the entrance. “And besides, it’s very cute.”

The tail made its way back out, and listening to your doctor’s advice, you let it be. “Help me out my hoodie.” You demanded, and Zayne couldn’t help but laugh at your tone, carefully helping you out your hoodie so as to not bother your sensitive ears, one of his hands holding down your t-shirt from riding up.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, curling up on the couch, your tail swaying against its will. Zayne made his way next to you, unable to stop himself from touching it. “It’s really soft.” He observed, his large hand stroking it lightly.

“Quit playing around!” You whined, not really wanting him to stop, but being the gentleman he was, he did, not taking revenge for how you treated him when he was a cat. “How do I make it go away?”

“Can I have a closer look at your tail?” Zayne asked, and you hissed, earning a laugh out of him. “Alright, I won’t look, but you shouldn’t be shy around your doctor, especially when you’re the one who called me here.”

“You’re not just my doctor…” You looked up at him a little hopefully, tail swaying again.

Zayne smiled. “You’re right, I suppose I’m your vet now.”

You pouted, walking away from him in feline elegance, taking your place on the adjacent arm chair, lying on it with your tail in the air. “How did you feel when you were a cat?”

“Needy.” Zayne admitted, after some thought.

Like a cat, you wanted something, but you were too proud to admit it. “Then…” You sat up on the chair, gazing at him, tail swaying behind you. “How do you, how do you… how do you think I must be feeling right now?” You shied away immediately, cat ears perking up.

Zayne would take care of you, no matter what, so before you knew it, you were on his lap, his large hands stroking your ears. “If you wanted me, you should’ve just said so.”

You purred, nuzzling on his chest, holding on to him tightly, as his hands worked on your ears and tail. “You knew.”

“Maybe.” Zayne spoke into your ear. Your heightened senses could listen to his racing heart, and his gushing blood. “But I really wanted to hear you ask.”

Rafayel

Honestly, he’d be EMPATHETHIC loool

You were supposed to accompany him for an event, but as you put on your dress, you felt cold from behind. Looking in the mirror, you saw a tail pulling your dress up, and a pair of ears on your head. You yelped, turning the lights off, and hiding in a corner. This couldn’t be happening.

“Cutie, what was that?” Rafayel called from outside the door. You had the misfortune of being at his house when it happened too. You quietly opened the window, to make it seem like maybe you ran away. You would, too, but you couldn’t be seen in public like that.

“I’m coming in!” Rafayel called upon hearing the sound of the window opening. You quietly hid under his bed.

Rafayel was already in his suit and tie, giving off a certain scent which made him seem oddly delectable.

“Where did you go…” He mumbled, looking at the open window. You could only see his feet now, so you couldn’t tell what he was doing, until your phone buzzed. You scrambled to turn it silent, when Rafayel crouched down, peeking under the bed.

Before you knew it, you scratched him with a hiss.

“Ow!” He stood back up, and you could smell his blood. You didn’t expect yourself to do that, or for the scratch to draw blood.

You crawled out, standing up to look at his hand. “I’m so sorry!” As you realised what you did, you took your hands away from his wounded hand, trying to hide your tail.

“I, uh…” You couldn’t meet Rafayel’s eyes, scared of what he was thinking.

“Oh, it’s just you.” Rafayel sighed. “I thought a cat sneaked in.”

He saw your tail lifting up your dress, and wrapped his coat around your waist. You still turned away from him, looking guilty. “Cutie, look at me.” He called gently. “It was just a scratch, and you didn’t mean it.”

You looked up at him, and his face was gentle, nothing like you expected. “Why did you hide from me?” He asked, his hands on your cheeks.

“I thought you’d be disgusted of me. I’m a cat, after all.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He coaxed you, pulling you into a hug. “I could never be disgusted by you. I told you before, right? I’d love you even if you were a worm.”

You let out a laugh, hugging him back, pulling him down on the bed behind you. He kept holding you, surprised by the sudden affection. “And you’re also the only cute cat in the world.”

Sylus

SUGGESTIVE

This was bad. Sylus would never let you live it down, but you also had no choice but to tell him. Your first thought after being turned into half a cat was volunteering at the cat café, so you’d get to spend time around the kitties, but that isn’t what the OTTO had in mind when giving you that outfit. Now you needed someone to help you out there.

“Are you done?” The OTTO asked, its tone irritated.

You remained dead silent, texting Sylus to ‘smash that devilish robot into pieces’.

You heard commotion outside, then some banging, thinking maybe, finally, Sylus had arrived, leaning your ear against the door.

“Loving the new look, sweetie.” Sylus was somehow behind you, hand already on your tail. You immediately turned around to see him gaze fondly at you, who was sat leaning against the door. “Guess you’ve been affected by the cat evol too.”

You looked away from his strong gaze, suddenly very aware of what OTTO made you wear. A short maid dress, with an opening at the back for your tail, and chiffon gloves with a cat paw stitched on them. Before you could change back, the sinister robot stole your clothes.

“I’m pleased you decided to call me in such a situation.”

“Shut up…” You mumbled.

“That’s no way to speak to the person who saved you, kitten.” This time, that word held a whole new meaning.

“I’m… sorry.” You forced, ears drooping down. You looked up at him with a pout, and he pet you behind the ears. You rubbed your head against his head, until you realised what you were doing, forcing yourself to stop. You cleared your throat.

“That’s rare coming from you.” He teased, fingers dancing around your jaw. There was a certain scent to them, so you bit him, though not hard enough to draw blood. Sylus winced, pulling back. “There’s the kitten I know.”

“Did you bring a change of clothes like I asked?”

Sylus hummed in response, not really focusing on anything other than playing with your hair and ears, hands trickling down to where your tail was, pulling at the ribbons of the dress, acting more like a cat than you. You leaned in to him, and he placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck.

Understanding where this was going, you reluctantly held his arm. “Mm, let’s not, I’m super hairy right now.” You said, referring to all the cat fuzz.

“That’s fine.” Sylus whispered into your ear. “I prefer it like that.”

Xavier

“Ugh…” You groaned, still sleepy. You had work pending, but for some reason, you couldn’t keep your eyes open despite having a lot of sleep and a cup of coffee, Knowing Xavier was often in the same predicament, you went to his floor, hoping he had some insanely potent energy drinks on him.

He opened the door, also groggy, but straightening up when he saw you. “Hey.” You greeted, intending to yawn but letting out a ‘meow’ instead.

“That was strange.” You tried to laugh it off. Xavier let you inside, and you explained that you were uncharacteristically sleepy the whole day.

“How do you manage to stay up?” You were sat on his fuzzy carpet, pulling at it.

Xavier smiled, sitting down next to you. “I think there might be another reason you’re so sleepy today.” He opened his phone’s front camera, facing it towards you.

“W-what’s that?” You cried, hands going towards the ears on your head and tail behind you.

“Cats might need up to 16 hours of sleep a day.” Xavier put his phone down, leaning his elbow on the coffee table, his other hand gently touching your ear. “If you have work, I’ll do it for you.”

“Really?” Your tail moved in excitement.

Xavier nodded, as he went downstairs to get your laptop. You prowled around his house, trying to fall asleep on his bed, then looking in his fridge for something to eat, restless and impatient, irritated that you were unable to fall asleep despite being sleepy. You looked for several spots, but nothing was snug enough.

That was until you saw Xavier typing your mission reports on his laptop. You crawled over to him on all fours, setting your head down on his lap. He gave your head a few scratches, helping you fall asleep.

Despite not being a cat anymore, Xavier couldn’t help feel sleepy seeing you safely under him. Perhaps cats could sense people’s feelings, because you spoke, half asleep “Put that aside Xavi, come cuddle with me.”

Eventually, the work was discarded, and Xavier held you on his couch, legs intertwined, head buried in his chest, his arms around you protectively, pretty dreams and soft feelings warm enough for you to get through whatever your supervisors would have to say.

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

hopefully tumblr doesnt eat this up again 😭

i was wondering how the batfam would reacted to getting caught watching edits of celebrity!reader

I’m just going to put them in a relationship with Celeb! reader just to make things easier for myself.

Dick doesn’t give a fuck if he’s caught watching edits of you! You’re his spouse of course he’s going to save each and every edit there was of you because it’s be a crime if he didn’t.

He’ll even show you the ones where he thinks you’re the hottest in shamelessly with a smile. He honestly can’t get enough of the edits that his FYP is filled with them and snippets of interviews that transition to the edits as well.

Dick has no shame in being caught because why would he? You deserve to have a thousand of edits in your name and Dick has one too many edits saved in his phone, so much so that your surprised his phone still somehow has storage for the next wave of edits that he’ll be saving should he deem them worthy.

‘Babe come look at this edit of you! You look hot!’ Is the most often used when Dick is showing off an edit of yourself to you in hopes of getting your opinions on it. You don’t mind people making edits, especially didn’t mind them now when Dick would shout ‘my spouse is fucking gorgeous! God damn’ out of seemingly nowhere.

You’re not even surprised when his Lock Screen is a live wallpaper of the edit itself, dick really didn’t have any problems showing you off in any capacity at all.

Jason is either calm with being caught or he’s wanting to strangle Roy because who else is going to rat him out to you about watching edits of you other than him?

‘Chipmunk I can explain-‘ Jason would start.

‘There’s no need, I know you watch edits of me sweetheart there’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.’ You tell him as you cuddle up to his chest. ‘It’s complete fine I’m not going to shame you in watching them, I think it’s flattering that you do.’ You add and Jason couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he held onto you, kissing your forehead.

‘It’s not my fault you’re perfect and the edits happen to capture that beauty sweetheart.’ Jason replied and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked at him sweetly, not knowing how much more you could possibly love this beautiful man as much as you could, especially when his cheeks flush with a red colour while he scratched his nose sheepishly.

You didn’t mind that he was watching edits and while he was glad about that he was more than certain to watch them elsewhere, more specifically away from Roy before he can rat on him…again.

Tim is terrified the moment you catch him watching edits of you, so much so that he completely forgot to pause the edit as you stare at each other, accompanied by music playing in the background.

It’s hilarious to you but embarrassing to poor Tim who believes that you’d see him as a weirdo for watching them, but all you do is laugh and kiss the side of his head before fiddling his hair affectionately. ‘Watching edits of me are you? And here I thought you couldn’t get more adorable Timmy.’ You tease as you kiss his cheek.

‘You’re not weirded out?’ He’d ask, holding his phone to his shirt, not wanting you to know that he was more or less the one making them rather than watching them. He’s literally got several usb drives worth of edit material to make, no joke.

‘Nope just flattered.’ You replied before leaving Tim be before he passes out from embarrassment. Little did you know he’s making about ten more edits as we speak, all of which have to be perfect and he’ll watch them ten times over if he must, for no specific reason at all.

Bruce is just admiring his beautiful/ handsome spouse. That is all.

Alfred would’ve most likely told you that he’s been watching edits of you when you’re away. It’s adorable and you couldn’t help but smile at how your handsome boy has an hidden file on the bar computer dedicated to your edits. (Dick and Tim found it by pure accident and dick couldn’t hope but tell you about it.)

Needless to say you won’t see him watch the edits but you’ll hear from everyone else that he watches them and that about the closest you’ll get to catching him in the act of watching edits honestly. However don’t be surprised when you see a video from Stephanie of her filing Bruce somewhere as he watched the edits of you on the big screen of the bat computer, his eyes filled with pride and awe of his pretty/ charming spouse looking so effortlessly ethereal.

While you might not have caught him in the act yourself, you still found yourself smiling at Bruce smiling up at the edits of you -and sometimes him because you’re a power couple- as a warmth encased your whole being, buts that’s more than enough for you as it can act as your own little secret.

Damian is good at keeping his little secret safe, so you seeing him watch edits of you were slim to none, and even if you did you catch him in the act you would have to have been blessed by Lady Luck herself.

He’s a little embarrassed that you caught him in the act, mainly because he thought he was better than this to let his guard down to be caught in an act like this, then he’ll become irritated at the fact that you had came into his own room just to catch him watching edits of you.

‘You’re watching edits of me.’ You said.

‘And? Did you seriously come into my room to tell me that? What happened to respecting my privacy?’ He retorts, arms cross over his chest. He didn’t care that you caught him, he’s just more or less annoyed with his privacy being violated.

‘Sorry my sweet I should’ve knocked, but you haven’t answered my question.’ You apologised with a little hug and a kiss to his forehead and Damian found himself forgiving you in an instant as he brought you back into a short lived hug, hiding his flustered face in the depths of your neck, tightening his grip on you.

‘Tim hacked my phone.’ He says in response and you just let it slide, knowing that he’ll admit to it sooner or later and not when he’s being cornered into talking. You knew he watched the edits because he’s totally infatuated with his spouse and Damian knew it too, but wouldn’t dare tell you until this moment has passed you both by.

So until then he’ll watch the edits in secret because he can’t get enough of how gorgeous you looked in them.