#styrofoam pillow

[distantlonersdreams]

The night before 05/07/2023, I had I dream where I bought a pillow with a similar feel to styrofoam, and learned from a video that it might potentially be toxic to cats. I was worried because one of my cats, Toby, had already touched it, but my styrofoam pillow was from a different company than the one in the video. So I tried checking the ingredients on the packaging (basically a hair dye box) for chocolate, minoxidil, and cat-killer (which for some reason that existed in this world), but couldn’t read. So I had no way of knowing if I should take Toby to the vet or not.

[hamsters-in-cups]

images by hyakusiki0522 on IG

[robotpussy]

i need to punch something really bad

[heartfullofleeches]

fake pizza boy yan developed a concerning taste for seeing darling eating his cum after that first encounter and starts bringing a variety of menu items with “ranch dips” and “vanilla shakes”. plenty of visual material to keep the supply up for his next “delivery” and he is definitely not spiraling into crisis just because the only thing that gets him hard for his other shoots is the mental image of darling stuffed full of his—

(Slapping these two together since they have a similar premise)

Yan Adult Film Star Pizza Boy + Reader [18+]

[Masterbation, Food Play]

-

"Come on..... Come on....."

Twenty minutes till deadline. Since the beginning of his career he stuck to a strict schedule. A simple routine to get the ball rolling as he dipped his toes in the new venture. Now that he had so many eyes on him and his content, Brie was able to take more breaks in between filming, but at this point it had been almost two weeks since he posted anything at all.

He tried everything. His hands. Toys. Videos. Brie even thought about buying pills at one point, but gaining an erection wasn't the hard part of his situation. His viewers were into a lot of things - but if there was one thing that really got their wallets open for him it was when he painted the nearest surface to him with a heavy load of his release. His donations would be flooded with comments from his hands how they wished to be his desk or pillows - or for the opportunity to lick said object clean.

Kind of like how you licked your fingers clean on the day he first met you.

The brief flicker of your face in his mind made his aching length jump in his spit stained palm. The encounter he had with you was all that he could think about anymore. He was obssessed - The innocent confusion as you opened the front door, the genuine gratitude in your expression as you handed him some cash for all his troubles and the free meal. Brie would pay anything to see you sample his sauce again. The way your eyes lit up as the flavor registered on your tongue-

"Mmh....."

What he wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around him. If you liked what he gave you so much what better than to get it straight from the source, right? The slick sound of friction grows louder as his hand moves quicker - eyes scanning every corner of his room for more fuel for his fantasies. He wish he had kept the photos he found of you online on screen, but he feared loosing that knot of pleasure twisting at his insides if he took his focus off the task at hand for any reason.

His eyes fall on the drink cup from the takeout he picked up earlier in the day. A boring Styrofoam cup with no clear ties to any restaurant would be the perfect container to bring you another item off the menu. The peach tea he had earlier would be a dead giveaway for any tampering. He needed something thicker, ideally with a creamy texture.

A milkshake.

Who wouldn't enjoy a nice, refreshing shake after pizza? You surely had to be thirsty after eating all that bread. Brie fisted his cock to the image of you on your knees beneath his table - hands gripping the meat of his thighs as your mouth hung open awaiting your treat. You'd look so cute under him like that - his fans would absolutely love you-

A surge of jealousy strengths his grip. Nobody should get to see you like that but him. Those perverts could fotk over their life savings and it wouldn't be enough for Brie to share you with them. Maybe the occasional stream with the two of you couldn't hurt - your face held against his pelvis as he stuffed that pretty throat so nobody could see anything but his cock slipping past your perfect lips.

"Ah.... Y/n...." It's the first time he's said your name. The first time he's let his imagination run this wild. He makes a mental note to cut it out during editingthe. Brie swipes the camera off his desk, angling it better towards his lap and the empty floor below him. He then makes a grab for the empty cup - popping off its lid as he positions the container between his legs. They tremble - barely holding into the styrofoam without crushing it as Brie spits - whimpering as he coats his girth in another layer of his saliva. For a fleeting moment he can perfectly picturing the warmth dripping down his cock as your own - and that's all it takes for him to come undone.

Brie cries out your name with a shakey breath, clutching the edge of his desk for stability as his upper body lurches forward, pouring ropes upon ropes of his spend in the general direction of the cup. It's too much- With it being so long since the last time he came, this hard - tears stab at the corners of his eyes as he shutters, nails peeling chipping at the polished finish of his desk. He misses his intended target at first go, thighs glistening with cum as he hurriedly fixes the cup to catch the remainder.

Brie takes a long pause to catch his breath before wipping off his camera lense, posing with a shakey thumb up as he holds the cup for all to see.

"Shake's ready- Guess it's about time I make another delivery~"

-

"And here you are, one milkshake on the house. We're always trying out new things in the kitchen and like to reward our loyal customers by letting them sample new items first."

Swirling your straw through the thick slurry, you take another sip with a satisfied hum. "Hm. You said this was salted caramel, yeah?"

The delivery boy snaps back to attention - seemingly lost in thought as you gulp down the shake. "Y-yes. That's right- Your thoughts?"

"It's pretty damn good, actually. Been getting kinda hot these past couple of nights so this is just what I needed right about now."

Brie bites down hard on his bottom lip as you place the cool styrofoam against your bare neck, condensation running down to your chest.

"I forgot to ask the last time I can, but my boss finds it really helpful if I get some pictures of satisfied customers to put up. Would you mind if I took a couple of you right now?"

[wandasaura]

GODDAMN BLAZE IN THE DARK

summary — when the ultimate arises of being allowed to orgasm or being allowed to relieve your bladder, the only thing you can do is hope to god that you can be the good girl she expects you to be

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, alcohol consumption, piss kink, holding/control kink, fingering, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, degradation, praise kink, eventual orgasm, condescending tones/elements, domestic banter, men/minors dni

kinktober

The weather was finally beginning to turn as October earned its keep in the festive beach town you resided within the borders of, no longer blisteringly hot, but rather soft and quaint as a breeze ruffled leaves and blew discarded litter down the streets of Westview. The aesthetic of the world had begun to shift with the incoming breeze of cool air as well, replacing vibrant pinks and muted blues with burnt orange shades and deep charcoal hues. Wanda herself had fallen into the fall frenzy, adding decorative pillows to the couch and styrofoam pumpkins to the mantle despite her mentality that decorating for single day holidays was pointless and a waste of hard earned money. You knew she adored the whimsical magic of Halloween, even if she rolled her eyes each time you suggested watching a film inspired by the spookiest month of the year. That’s just how she was. Pointedly difficult merely to get a rise out of you, and it worked each time you begged to watch Hocus Pocus only to receive an eye roll and an exaggerated huff of faux exasperation. She always caved, always cuddled up on the couch or in bed, but it was never easy to get her there, nor was it easy to keep her interest as her hands began to wander down your tantalizing body and mark its claim on your most sensitive areas. 

Tonight, as you cuddled up close, beneath a thin throw blanket printed with jack-o-lanterns and the silhouettes of cartoon bats, it had been painfully easy. She hadn’t protested when you suggested a movie night, hadn’t rolled her eyes when you turned on a film from your childhood that was admittedly horrible at best and downright insulting at worst, and she hadn’t even huffed in overdramatic defeat when you’d turned the subtitles on because that made any viewing experience ten times better. In fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant and willing. She’d collected your drinks from the kitchen, gathered your chosen snacks from the pantry, and lit a candle on the coffee table that had the entire house smelling like sweet notes of subtle maple and addictive vanilla. 

Cautiously, you peaked over your shoulder at her side profile illuminated by flickering auburn light from the three wick candle providing a gentle ambience of mood lighting around you, the dancing flame with the slightest twinges of blue and yellow embedded within its fiery existence reflected off of her emerald stare so peacefully that you nearly accepted the gentle nature of the night ahead of you without question, but you knew better. You’d been with Wanda for years, seen her through some of the most trying and difficult periods of her life, and subsequently some of the best and softest. You knew that whenever something was easy with her, then there was something else up her sleeve just waiting to be pulled. She kept things interesting, always had and always would, but you’d become rather perceptive to her motives after such a long game of cat and mouse. 

She had you pinned against her chest as you lounged on the couch she’d affectionately decorated with throw blankets and decorative pillows, one arm looped around your waist while the other held onto her glass of chilled white wine, the stem carefully weaved between her fingers in intricate delicacy that you hadn’t quite mastered no matter the years you spent attempting to copy her mannerisms. She dripped with class and exquisite wealth, despite being brought up in a country suffering with poverty. There was an intoxicating energy to her, one that compelled even her most passionate haters to surrender to her spell and seek to know her personally. You’d never quite gotten over that alluring charm about her, but she’d made it painfully obvious that you were the only one she wanted to bring home and into bed each time you left the house, so you didn’t dwell much on the simple fact that Wanda Maximoff could have any man or woman she desired without so much as lifting a finger to flirtatiously wave. 

As you reached for your glass of wine that had been thoughtlessly left abandoned on the coffee table besides the slowly burning candle, her arm pressed against your bladder just enough to make an uncomfortable feeling travel through your nerves. Willing to ignore it for a while longer, not wanting to leave her soothing company or risk your film being turning off due to her unrelenting boredom, you stayed against her chest, now gripping your own glass with delicacy, although you didn’t quite have the placement of your fingers right enough to have replicated her eloquence. You’d thought that Wanda was unaware of your subtle wince, however, she’d so easily detected the shift in your body language and the way you maneuvered within her hold to alleviate some of the pressure she was intentionally pressing into your bladder. 

When her hand fell to your thigh, her wine glass set to the side as she had only a couple of sips left and didn’t particularly enjoy being drunk without your lighthearted energy to match her pace, you shivered with anticipation, knowing all too well where her soft touch would lead if you played your cards right. Well, you had thought you knew all the moves she was going to make, but when she dug her fingertips into the crevice of your thigh without warning or prior teasing, tickling the sensitive skin that she knew was a no-go zone on your best day, let alone your worst, you truly began to realize what you were in for. A soft whine slipped off of your lips as you wriggled against her, but all she did was tighten her hold on you and coax your whines with sweet kisses against the shell of your ear, her fingers still teasing and tickling your sensitive skin with passion. 

“Wanda.” You gasped when one hand splayed firmly against your sensitive belly, and the other moved beneath your soft gingham print sleep shorts to cup your core beneath the frilly underwear you’d picked out that morning. Your attire was nothing special, nothing sexy nor new, but that’s what Wanda preferred. There were times when lingerie worked, where it brought a level of excitement and newness to your already exhilarating sexcapades, but Wanda was sweet, she preferred you as you were, with no reason to constantly be trying to change your comfortability and appearance. Her boldness had always been a turn on, and as you sat trapped between her chest and her possessive arms, you felt merely like a toy at her disposal. 

“What’s wrong, my angel?” She cooed against your earlobe, teeth taking claim over that sensitive inch of skin that always provoked your desire to rise to uncontrollable levels. She knows what’s wrong though, it’s not the first time you’ve walked into this trap, but it’s been months since she’s laid it out, months since she’s been so cruel and condescending that you don’t know whether to plead for leniency or for her fingers to claim the sweetest softest spaces of your intimacy. “Hm, be a good girl and tell me.”

“I have to pee.” The words burned your pride as they slipped into the air, your cheeks twinging a flush shade of pink more aligned for the pallet of summertime than fresh autumn. You wriggled in her grasp, attempting to set yourself free, but all you accomplished was adding more pressure against your already sensitive bladder, intensifying the sensation of urgency within your nerves. “Wands, I have to pee.” 

Your desperation did nothing to quell her cruelty, rather it feebly landed in the near silent room apart from the voices slipping out of the speakers in the ceiling. “Well that’s too bad, sweetheart. I like having you here. Surely you can wait a little while longer, can’t you? I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” 

Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting warm, sticky arousal that pooled at your entrance. You whimpered in need, desperate need that turned your nerves cold with pleasure but warmed your skin deliciously to the touch. You writhed in her lap, torn between staying still, ignoring the pressure being applied to your belly, and squirming against her hold until you could sink onto those tantalizing digits and claim your pleasure. You didn’t have the luxury of choosing, she was already deciding your fate before you could strategize a game plan to secure dominance. You never won when you attempted to overpower her, but it was fun to have those unrefined moments of vicious pleasure while they lasted. 

You gasped a broken whine of pleasure when her fingers dug themselves into your core with one finite movement, buried to the hilt if the chill of her rings laying heavily against your pulsating clit pebbled with anticipation was any indication. The pads of her fingers pressed against the softest section of your walls, sparkling sharp sparks of pleasure to shoot up your spine and reverberate off the lining of your sensitive bladder. You gasped again, a breathy, whiney sound that was entirely pathetic but lewdly sweet, as Wanda prodded and pressed against that spongy spot continuously, her fingers curling and scissoring apart within your slick velvety walls. 

You writhed in intense pleasure, squirming against her tight, near clinical hold as she kept you confined and at her mercy, only able to take whatever she gave you when she felt like it. The sensations sparking to life in your bladder and core were unimaginable fireworks of pleasure that drowned you in their intensity, covering you in pleasure derived from her; her touch, her words, her eloquently dominant energy. She covered you in her effortlessly, and you surrendered to the flames of passion without hesitation. 

“I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it! Wanda! I have to pee! Please let me cum!” As torn as your body was between remaining still and writhing in passionate movements, your mind was an even playing field of indecision. You had to pee, that was undeniable, it was steadily beneath the surface of pleasure, tethered to your orgasm in a terrifying way, but you need to cum, as her fingers scissors your pussy apart, massaged that spongy area within your walls, as her rings nudged and thumped against your clit, you were being driven closer and closer to that beautiful edge of vulnerability and pleasure. 

“One or the other.” Wanda’s voice was level, calculated. She wasn’t bothered by your desperation, nor was she feeling generous. Your bones grew cold with anticipation as you shook your head, but it did nothing to win you sympathy. Her fingers that had already been hammering into you at an unforgiving pace took an even harsher approach, and the squelching sounds of pleasure and arousal filled the room and joined the existing symphony of a crackling flame and animated characters. “You can either cum on my fingers like a good girl, or you can go pee and not receive anything. And, I know this slutty cunt never misses an opportunity to cum, so stop acting like you can’t handle what I decide to do to your body, and sit still.” 

Your body couldn’t help but oblige by her demand, and with muffled whimpers, your body stopped fighting against her hold. She laughed tauntingly, pressing harder against your bladder. You knew the moment you leaked even the slightest bit against her fingers, her touch would be withdrawn, whether you were in the middle of a blissful orgasm or just on the cusp of falling over the edge. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t show you even the slightest bit of moisture. She had made her ultimatum clear, there would be nothing that could change that. 

“I’m close! I’m close!” As your orgasm built, so did that pressure in your bladder that was slowly becoming unbearable. You could only will your body to allow you control, but before you could slip off the edge, fall into a sea of butterflies and pleasure, her fingers were slowing down, her palm pressing harder against your bladder in return for the loss of pleasure. 

“Hold it.” She demanded cruelly, voice level and dominating, only luring you further beneath her captivating spell that had you submitting unregretfully. You did as best as you could, your eyes pinched shut as you fought to fight off your orgasm, but eventually it all caught up to you, and your mindless babbling became indistinguishable pleas and desperate begging. “So pretty when you squirm for me.” 

“I-I can’t! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to pee! Let me cum! Please, Wanda! Please!” Finally forcing the words off of your tongue, you only hoped they were enough to convince her to be kind. Minutes passed until they became a blur of sensations that ripped you apart from the inside, and when you thought you were going to break, just as you were on the cusp of deteriorating, everything started up again and instead of being denied, instead of loitering on the edge of bliss, Wanda granted you permission. You came with a high pitched moan, squirming and writhing against her hold and the second she worked you down from that blissful edge, you were bolting toward the bathroom, followed by her footsteps and taunting laughter. “Three glasses of wine and you decide to pull this shit! Wanda, I am going to kill you one day!” 

“That’s how you repay someone who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?! You threaten them?!” Wanda laughed menacingly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as she watched you attempt to relieve your bladder, although that was slightly difficult in your post-orgasm state, which only made your frustration double. 

“Second best! Nothing will beat last Christmas.” You threw her a nasty glare, finally able to pee as your muscles began to loosen and return to normal, although every nerve in your body was still alight with blissful pleasure. 

“You’re only making me want to compete with myself here, darling.” She smirked, licking her fingers clean of your arousal in a tantalizing power move that had your cheeks flushing but your eyes rolling. 

“You’re impossible.”

[luveline]

begging on my hands and knees (if you haven’t already) for you to write something about Aaron during the birth of your child 🥲🥲 and jack’s reaction to meeting his new sibling

You suffer through labour, Aaron dotes, and Jack meets his baby sister. fem, 2k

cw for labour/delivery, no graphic imagery

For some people, giving birth is a fast affair. Dilation occurs quickly, and after twenty or so pushes, a baby is born. Some people can go into labour and be finished within the hour. 

You, unfortunately, have not had that kind of luck. And that’s okay —it’s also entirely normal for this process to be difficult. Doesn’t make it hurt any less to watch, but Aaron has thick skin. Who cares what he’s feeling? You’re about to have a baby. 

He stands at the head of the bed with his arm over your pillow, tired despite himself, a styrofoam cup of ice chips in his hand. He presses it to your cheek, and every couple of minutes he changes it to the other one. Your forehead is wet with sweat, your face puffy with sobbing tears, but you’re beautiful in your sleep. Beautiful to him. 

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead where he stays for some time. Your heart monitor beeps. 

A few minutes later, your heart monitor jumps. A strike of pain to warn of an oncoming contraction. 

You drag yourself from sleep to find his eyes. “Hi,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t know what to say. What can sum it up? Aaron doesn’t think he’s felt this many emotions in his life; he thinks of Jack, his baby face, and he thinks of Haley squishing his pink cheeks; he thinks of your hands, how chapped your palms are, how much he hates to see you crying like this; he thinks of your little baby so close to being here, and all your months of triumph and love and good luck to get to this moment. 

This is the biggest privilege of his life, in line with Jack’s birth. 

He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but he makes himself a man who could deserve you. “Hello,” he says, pressing the back of his hand to your raging forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

“It has to be time soon.” 

“You think so? Should I find someone?” 

He speaks in solid but hushed tones, as though a raised voice might hurt you more. You find his chest to press your hand to space above his heart, where you give him a little rub back and forth. “No,” you say, tears welling in your eyes as the monitor spikes, “not yet.” 

He helps you into a sitting position which quickly becomes a bent over and keening position. Aaron obviously doesn’t know how childbirth feels, but he has experienced his own scar tissue ripping apart inside his abdomen as his organs flooded with his own blood. By the looks of it, you’re hurting worse than that. You don’t even speak. Your moans turn to panicked shouting before you get so scared your voice disappears. 

He doesn’t like it at all. He waits a good long minute with you for the pain to pass, his hand in yours as you squeeze it to mulch, his nose pressed remorsefully to your cheek. It fades like all the others. 

“I know,” he says as you start to cry in earnest, “it’s over. It’s over.” 

“It’s not over,” you snip, sniffing. 

He leans over your lap to press the button that asks for help. “You’re doing amazing.” 

It’s a hard night. At nearing one in the morning, they measure your dilation and agree it’s time to push. You tolerate it well, but it still takes two and a half hours of agony and tears. Aaron doesn’t cry, but he does feel an acute ache for you, and an excitement you probably can’t feel yourself. Every push is one step closer to the baby. 

Just after three hours, when the midwives are whispering to one another in concern and Aaron is sure he’ll never feel his left hand again, you have a baby. 

She’s snipped, cleaned up, and laid gently on your chest within seconds. You’ll never know how whole and brimming Aaron’s heart feels in that moment, to see you crying against the little forehead of your baby, to watch your arms cradle her body tenderly. 

He’s sure everyone in the room will forgive him for crying too. Just a couple of tears, smiling as you look down at her in pure joy. No shock, no sign of all that pain. 

“Oh, fuck, Aaron,” you say suddenly, to the delight of everyone in the room, “she’s got your frown.” 

She’s screaming, as babies tend to do. Aaron presses himself as close as he can to confirm the wrinkle between her brows. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing your cheek. 

You breathe out deeply. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” 

Sorry for the pain and gunk. You forgive him for everything. 

You’re feeling nearly yourself again when morning comes, Aaron can tell. Showered, changed, swaddled with post-labour padding and with half a sandwich in your stomach, he can nearly forget the sound of your panicked crying. You’re hoarse as though you’ve been out for the night with friends, whispering clumsy love notes to your daughter where she naps in your lap. 

“So pretty,” you say, running an awed fingertip over her nose, “so beautiful, baby. You’re so beautiful. Look at your liccle nose.” You dip into sugar. “Aw, look at your nose.” 

“That’s your nose,” he says. 

“I think so.” 

She’s a baby so it’s hard to say for sure, but Aaron hopes she has your lovely nose and that she looks exactly like you, if she only keeps his wrinkled brow. 

You lean back. The bed has been wiped down and changed, your pillow from home propped behind your shoulders. Jack’s good luck talisman sits on the night table, waiting for him to visit. Aaron has been away for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and still he misses him after not seeing him these last eighteen hours. 

“He’s on his way, right?” you ask, noticing Aaron’s quiet. 

Aaron picks up Mr. Bear where he sits on the nightstand and massages the teddy’s arms and stomach. “Can’t you hear him?”

“My sister!” Jack is saying, words too fast to pick up each one, “Jess, we have to be faster!” 

“I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart!” 

Aaron meets him at the door. Jack sees his father, probably just the shape of him, and starts to run down the hallway. He slams into Aaron’s legs, who pulls him up against his chest for a two-armed hug that he couldn’t need more. 

“Jackers,” he says in relief.

“Dad, put me down!” He must see you over Aaron’s shoulder. “Y/N! You’re okay!” 

“I’m more than okay, handsome! Were you worried about me?” 

“Is that my baby?” he says, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

You, Aaron and Jess all laugh. “Your baby sister. Are you gonna come and say hello? She’s been waiting for hours for you to wake up,” you say.

“I was waiting for her for hours first,” Jack says, climbing over Aaron’s shoulder, and then slipping back down as his father walks him into the hospital room to stop by your bed. 

Jess stays by the door. 

Aaron puts Jack on the bed beside you where there’s not much room for him, hands clasped around his arms just in case he does something sudden. “Oh,” Jack says, breathing out slowly. “Wow, dad.” 

“Wow,” Aaron echoes. 

“Can I touch her?” 

Assured he’ll be careful, Aaron lets Jack loose, and the boy waits for your signal before he pokes at the baby’s fisted hand. 

“She’s really little, huh?” you ask quietly. 

“Was I this little?” 

“You were smaller,” Aaron whispers. 

“She’s a real baby, dad.” 

“She’s super real. Does she look like you pictured?” Aaron asks. 

“No, I thought she’d look more like me.” 

This is really funny to you. Careful, you hold the baby to your chest and free an arm to cup Jack’s shoulder. “Buddy, I missed you. Aunt Jess says you stayed up past your bedtime, how are you feeling?” 

He smiles and goes shy at the same time. “I’m okay. I missed you, too.” 

“That’s good, I’m feeling good too.” You sniffle. 

“Are you sure?” Jack asks. 

“This is the best day ever. My little girl meeting her big brother.” You take a steadying breath, and you turn the baby toward Jack gently. “Do you wanna hold her?” 

Jack sits against your pillows and waits with pale terror on his face for you to pass him the baby. He bends over her as soon as she’s been placed, worried she’ll tip out of his lap, and you stroke the short brown strands of his hair, crops of it moving shiny under your touch. 

Aaron takes his phone from his pocket. In his rush, he struggles to find the capture button, recording a video instead that will take up most of the memory on his old phone and that he will refuse to part with. 

“Did she look like this in your belly?” Jack asks you, frowning. 

“Not the whole time. Why, does that bother you?” 

“Was she squished?” 

“No, she wasn’t squished. ‘Member how big my belly was?” You laugh warmly. “How big it still is.” 

“Will it ever be small again?” 

“Maybe somebody. I don’t mind.” You stroke his hair again. Baby makes a wet noise. “What do you think, lovely?” 

“About your belly?” 

“About the baby.” 

“I wish I was her.” 

You stroke behind his ear. “How come?” 

“I’m so tired, I wish I was sleeping too. But she is really small.” 

Aaron catches your relieved smile before he puts down the phone. “Do you want a nap, buddy? We can take a nap.” 

“I can take him home?” Jess suggests quietly. 

Aaron thanks her for everything. When you’re feeling better, he’s sure you’ll want to introduce Jess to the baby as well, but Jess doesn’t want to impose, and Aaron lets her go without fuss. Perhaps it’s a little hard on her to see. He doesn’t know. 

But Jess is a good woman, and he knows she’ll want to meet your baby whenever you’re ready. For now, it’s just you, Aaron, Jack, and the baby Hotchner.

Aaron sits in the plastic wrapped chair by the bed and leans back to accommodate sleepy Jack, who falls asleep with little more than a back rub and his family’s proximity. You look like you could sleep, too, but you won’t put the baby in the bassinet. You hold her and watch her for a soothing stretch of time, Aaron watching you both. 

“He’ll be more enthusiastic after he’s slept,” Aaron promises. 

You pucker and press teeny kisses to the baby’s ear. “He was perfect,” you murmur. “He was so gentle. We’re so lucky.” 

Aaron reaches over to hold your hand. You indulge him with an open palm, the two of you shushing in tandem as your children rouse, both of them perfect, and both parents very lucky. 

[openupforme]

ꪖꪻ ꪗꪮꪊ᥅ ꪑꫀ᥅ᥴꪗ - E.W.

*pics from pinterest, i don’t own these.

[] Pairing : soft!rough!dom!ellie x needy!reader

[] Synopsis : Twice out of the year you both take the [] day off. One of you needs to relieve your stress and [] one of you needs to blow off steam. One out of the [] two of you does all the hard work, while one of you [] is incapable of moving or doing anything at all.

[] Warnings : 18+, MDNI, swearing, teasing, HEAVY SMUT, bondage, HEAVY overstimulation, PRAISING, ellie refers to the reader as baby and angel, dom!ellie, bottom!reader, face fucking (r! receiving), oral sex, strap on fucking {lmk if i missed anything please 🦦}

[] Authors Note : Digital footprint? we don’t know [] them. BUT ANYWAYS, i hope you enjoy. let me [] know if any of you have anything specific you [] might want to read next? CAN SOMEONE PLEASE [] TEACH ME HOW TO DO THE REQUEST THINGY [] FOR THE BIO? oh yeah this is a modern!AU

——————————————————————————

The soft pillow that is nestled under your neck turns cold, and your body shivers due to your naked state. Due to how smoldering Boston’s weather is in the summer, the AC unit thats connected to the window adjacent to your bed is blowing at high speed. Even after the sun goes down, your two bedroom apartment sometimes still feels like a sauna if it's not put to use.

The once forgotten chilling air pulls you out of your thoughts, making you shiver again. You slide your leg across the bed to try and locate your blanket, only to remember the words your girlfriend muttered to you thar morning. "I want nothing getting in the way when I'm fucking you as many times as I want later", she said even though she was sleep disoriented.

Your eyes are covered, your hands are tied, your bodies shivering, and Ellie is still nowhere to be found. The green eyed girl whispered dirty things in your ear, fingered you until your toes curled, just to get off the bed with a "You're probably hungry, I'll be back baby". You’re immensely lucky to call her yours, but now it's her fault you’re freezing.

You laid there for what felt like eternity under the blistering air until you hear the bedroom door open. Your head tilts towards the direction of the door. Well where you assume the door is. The soft patter of feet comes closer and you feel the bed sink under your girlfriends weight.

“Hi Angel are you awake?" Ellie says before dragging her finger softly across your jawline.

"I'm awake, but I'm fucking freezing. Can you please turn the air conditioner down?" You say in a small voice.

"Of course I will, it's my fault you're freezing anyway. I also stopped by Salvador's and got your favorite." she stated cutely as yoi waited for her to return to the bed.

The buzzing caused by the AC stops as Ellie resumes her position next to you. Silence engulfs the room and you feel her hand start to softly caress your stomach making you sigh. "I don't want the food to get cold. I'm going to feed you, not like you have another choice anyways," she said as you giggled at her reference to the ropes around your wrists and blindfold over your eyes.

"That's fine baby, I love when you take care of me" You smile and wait for her retrieve the food out of the bag. Soon you felt a styrofoam container being sat on your stomach, and as soon as Ellie opened it you moaned at the smell.

"Baby no more moaning please. For the foods sake, one more of those and I might throw this food and my control out of the window." she said with what you know is a smile on her face, that tone always indicated playfulness. "Open up" she says before the taco is placed in your mouth, and an unintended groan rumbles from your throat.

You hear a whimper come from Ellie who is sitting beside you, as the taco is being taken away from your mouth so you can chew. You hear Ellie begin to woof down her portion of the Taco's, moaning with each bite. While the two of you were eating you could feel her eyes trailing across your naked chest. You could physically feel her eating you alive with just her gaze alone. The thought alone making your legs try to clench together.

After many bites and groans the once chilly room was becoming warm and lust filled. The sexual tension was rising by the second and the thought of being thoroughly fucked for the fifth time today made your legs clench shut. “Already ready for more? Your last orgasm wasn't even an hour ago," Ellie said picking up on your body language.

“You're moaning and I can practically hear your loud filthy thoughts. Might I add that you're teasing me and I don't appreciate it." You sigh out. It's normal for you to get turned on quickly when you’re with your girl, her presence alone made your body want to heat up.

"I didn't mean to tease you, Sal's infamous tacos are just too fucking good. Plus baby, you know all you have to do is ask if you want something. Remember what I told you the other week?" she asked as her hand began to trail down your stomach.

"You've told me many things the other week. Please elabora-" you were cut short when her slender fingers began to rub your clit, making your back arch off of the bed.

"I told you that I am yours. Anything you wish is my command, because you are my everything. I also said that I love to please you, it's my favorite thing and an honor to have the privilege of worshipping you. You are my drug. You'll get anything you want, as long as I'm able to please you and call you mine." she said before removing her gifts from god from your nerve bundle. Butterflies and a series of whines erupt from your throat at her words and the loss of contact.

"You show me everyday baby, would you mind showing me just how addicted you are?" you say in a breathy tone, already dripping onto your shared black sheets once again.

"Anything for you angel, I was going show you whether you asked or not." The horn dog said moving the empty food carton from my stomach, and tossing it onto our bedside table.

You hear the rustling of clothes, and knew they were being thrown recklessly on the floor of your bedroom. The bed then dips and you feel soft and warm hands spread my thighs gently. Then you hear her soft voice cut through the silent air, "What do you want baby? Whatever it is i'll give it you". you moan at her low tone and start to thrust your hips into the air, becoming impatient due to your turned on state.

"I want you to do what you always do. Make me feel good. Put your tongue in my pussy please” you moan out desperately.

Before you knew it her long slender tongue was deep inside your tight hole. Ellie instantly starts moving her head back and forth, while she kept a strong grip on your thighs. You try to run away due to the pleasure being to immense, but your restraints keep you secure. She temporarily pulls away to sexily whisper to you.

“Why’re you running baby? This is what you wanted yeah? Then stop squirming and let me fuck you with my tongue. I know you want it”

She dives back in and soon sounds start emitting from between your legs that make you want to cover your mouth in embarrassment, but you physically can’t. Wet slurping and Ellie’s moans are booming off of the walls, as she continues to plunge her long muscle inside of you.

You can feel the tongue inside of you curling upwards and moving backwards. You realized Ellie was quite literally swallowing your cum, drinking from you like you held the fountain of youth between your thighs.

“Fuck baby please p-please, stop it feels too good” You say trying but failing to shy away from her quick thrusting tongue.

Ellie comes up for air to quickly say “You know your safe word baby, and unless you use it i’m not fucking stopping. So be quiet and take it like a good girl okay?” The auburn haired girl says before her tongue is once again quickly dragging along your walls. Making white lightning shoot up your spine. The noises coming from your mouth sound downright pornographic. Who can blame you? This is what you wanted right?

You feel her slender fingers glide up your thigh to your stomach and they end up harshly tugging at your nipples. The pain of that mixed with the wet sucking noises your pussy makes as it’s being rammed into you has you beginning to sob. It was too much. She was too much.

Seconds felt like hours. You could do nothing but lay there like a good girl and succumb to her torture. That tongue was relentless and it’s goal was to LITERALLY fuck the life straight from your body.

You could only imagine what Ellie looked like in this moment. Eyes closed in bliss, loose hair sticking to her forehead, while you could feel her whimpers of satisfaction vibrating inside of your walls. The thought alone has you approaching your orgasm with the speed of light.

The blindfold covering your eyes doesn’t help with your sensitivity. As soon as your vision was engulfed in darkness your other senses skyrocketed, and that was before Ellie even started fucking you. Now there’s a flame roaring between your thighs.

Her nose is pressing against your clit with every jerk of her head between your legs. They started to shake under her palms as you cried for mercy. “Good girl, it’s okay good girl” she’d mutter to you every once in a while when she came up for air.

Suddenly she pulls away from your pussy causing you to cry out. You start to wail out and beg for her to let you cum, but your admissions are being ignored.

“Baby calm down it’s okay. I’m just going to grab something, I’ll be right back okay” She whispering softly, to which you respond with a tear filled voice “N-no! Baby please just fuck me, fuck-fuck me please I need you”.

“So needy, behave for me please? Just wait a minute angel, I promise to fill you up again” She said as you felt her weight lift off of the bed, making you sob harder.

You hear the closet door open with a *click* and you instantly quiet for a second. “Hm what happened baby? I thought you wanted me to fill you up” she says with that fucking stupid smirk on her face. You can’t see her but you know it’s etched on her lips.

“E-ellie wait, I don’t know if I can take that right now. I f-feel like i’m going to pass out any second now” You whisper shakily, knowing damn well you want her cock to stretch your tight pussy open.

“You know you can always safe word if you want to. I’d never do something you’re unsure about, but something tells me that your neglected hole wants to squeeze me” Ellie says now on her knees staring down at your pussy from above.

The tip is pressed on your clit, making your back painfully arch as far as it could. A moan so loud it shook the ceiling escaped your mouth. “You want me baby? Beg me” She said repeating the movement making a squeal rush out of your mouth. All Ellie could do was coo at you and laugh at your overstimulation.

“In-Inside please” You beg like a bitch in heat. You try to rut your hips up enough to force the tip to slip inside, which earns you a blistering slap to your thigh. “Stop fucking squirming, ask me properly” Ellie was growing impatient, she wanted nothing more than for you finally beg so she could fuck you into your shared bed.

“Y-your cock, please put it in my pussy. I need y-you so bad so fucking bad. I-I’ll do anything, just PLEASE” you blabber making Ellie look down at you in pity.

“Okay baby, okay I got you.” She whispers thinking that she’s tortured you enough.

After Ellie’s statement you felt the fat head of the silicon toy push inside of you. This caused the loudest whimper yet the leave your tight throat. “Oh fuck well would you look at that, you’re trying to pull me in deeper already.” She mutters through a groan.

You feel the toy slowly gliding along your gummy walls, making it harder to breathe. The thick girth of the toy is causing your pussy to stretch. It’s a big step up from Ellie’s lengthy tongue but it feels deliciously painful. The toy is only half way inside of you now, but that doesn’t stop you from crying out “O-oh god fuck, it’s too much” to the girl above you. The toy is sliding in deeper, massaging the nerve endings in your channel perfectly, and all you wish you could do was put your hand on Ellie’s stomach to stop her from going any deeper.

Before the strap on can bottom out within your pussy you feel Ellie drag it out of you slowly. Squelching noises follow due to the vast amount of wetness that surrounds the toy. The sound makes Ellie moan out and then push back in slowly.

You think she’s trying to tease you but deep down Ellie just doesn’t want to hurt you. She’s trying to allow your pussy to accommodate to the large size. As much as she’d like to rip you in half, she still feels like being gentle is needed right now. Especially because of how sensitive she knows you are right now.

You cant stop the moans from pouring out of you at her slow pace, in and out in and out. It’s that mouthwatering torture you crave but fuck you wish she’d go faster.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that the toy was now snug against your sensitive cervix. You yelp out loudly like a dog that just got it’s paw stepped on, because fuck it’s big. The toy she picked out of your combined collection makes few appearances. But when it does, you know you’re going to end up fucked out and gasping for air.

“Oh angel it’s okay, I know you can handle it. You’ll tell me if you can’t won’t you? Yeah I know you will. I just want you to give me one more okay? Just one more.” Ellie says wanting to coax a 6th orgasm out of your tired pussy.

Ellie on the other hand is so drunk off the sight of your puffy pussy lips stretching to accommodate her length that her mouth bobs open and closed like a gaping fish out of water. This is what she lives for. This is what keeps the breath in her lungs. Being able to make you feel the pleasure you deserve.

Ellie’s waited too long, and before you know it she’s pistoning inside your pussy with immense speed. All you can do is cry and try to squirm away, but still to no avail the ropes remind you that you can’t. Gut wrenching sobs burst past your lips as your tears soak the material of the thin mask. Ellie notices this, and she halts her movements while the toy is pushed as deep as it can go inside of you. She leans forward and gently pulls the soaking material away from your eyes.

“Agh there you are angel, you know the deal. Keep your eyes on me or I swear on all I love that I’ll stop. Do you understand me?” She says menacingly. You wouldn’t dare disobey her. But before you can even respond that you “understand” she’s already moving her hips back and forth.

The look on Ellie’s face right now can only be described as ravenous. You made the mistake of catching her eyes with yours, and she can see the submission pouring out of your irises. She bites her lip, grips your thighs, and starts fucking into you like it’s the last time she’ll be able to. You didn’t even think it was possible for her to move faster but she managed to.

Your eyes cross towards your nose at the newfound pace. This makes Ellie let out a cute giggle, you look so fucking pathetic. The toy mixed with the look of hunger on Ellie’s face has you back on the edge again.

The long cock is reaching so far inside of you that you can feel it nudging against your stomach. You can physically see your stomach bulging up and down from each of her harsh thrusts.

You cant fucking take it anymore. Ellie’s groans, the pleasure, the sight of your stomach popping up and down has you ready to explode. But Ellie knows that.

“I know you want to cum, beg me angel, or I’ll stop right now” That threat has you panicking.

“P-please can I come? Please m-make me come. I need it, please fuck I-I need it. Just want to come for you, be your good girl.” you cry out and babble in despair.

“Okay okay, shhhh I got you, I got you. Let go for me. You did so good” Ellie says lifting a purple remote. She then presses down and you hear a click. Oh fuck.

As soon as her finger lifted off of the device intense vibrations are being soaked up by your walls. The pleasurable hum touches that spot deep inside of you. You’re a goner.

The orgasm you finally get the chance to experience takes you out of your fucking body. Screams and wails flood out of your mouth. At this point your neighbors probably think you’re being murdered. But the thought doesn’t stop the white creamy liquid that’s shooting out of your hole. Not only does it cover the whole of Ellie’s thighs and stomach but is also soaks the bed under your ass too.

Ellie simply just stares at you in awe, still buried to the hilt letting the vibrations work you through the comedown. The aftershocks of your intense orgasm still have you shaking, they still have you crying, and fuck it won’t stop.

“O-out please, it’s too much. I’m so f-fucking sensitive. Ellie please” you cry out still feeling little tears slide down your cheeks.

Ellie finally breaks from her trance and clicks the button causing the sensation to finally stop. She slowly slides out of you making you whine at the loss, but cry out from joy. You pussy is completely wrecked and all you want is that sweet aftercare.

Ellie unstraps the toy and gives you a hasty but soft “Ill be right back, okay?” And after hearing the running water shut off she emerges with a wash cloth. The warm cotton glides against your thighs, and moves gently along your outer lips. She straightens her back and stands back up.

“What do you say pretty?” Ellie says her voice filled with love. But you’re still too stuck in a trace to answer. The crying has subsided but you’re still shaking. So she asks you again.

“What do you say? Don’t test my fucking patience.” Ellie now speaks with that dominant tone you adore.

“Th-thank you, fuck thank you” You whimper out pathetically, trying to think of how she could possibly assume you’re in any position to form words right now.

“Thank you for what angel?” The soft tilt to her voice returns.

“For making me cum, for calling me your good girl.” You say calming down slowly as each second passes by.

“Good girl, you did so good. I’m so proud of you. Thank you for letting me please you. I’m going to untie you now okay?” Ellie says already making her way towards the binds around your left wrist.

One by one each knot comes undone, and after each one you’re slipping closer and closer to sleep. Before your brain that’s been turned to mush can comprehend what’s happening you’re pulled onto Ellie’s strong chest.

The last thing you say to Ellie before you fall asleep is the soft admission of “You had your fun today, but next time it’s you that’s going to be in that position.”

Ending AN: So yeah that happened.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Cravings

Summary: Spencer admires Reader while pregnant and in the depths of her cravings.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content warnings: Pregnancy, eating

Word count: 848

Spencer can’t pinpoint when he’s loved you the most. Hearing you groggy over the phone when he was on the jet heading home would’ve been the obvious moment, considering he blurted the three special words out in the middle of you talking about your upcoming work day. You and the team, who also witnessed it, were stunned into silence. But he still spoke to you after, whispering like he was alone the entire time.

Your wedding day would be another appropriate answer. He didn’t tear up as any groom would. No, he cried. His tears collected at the brim but took time to overflow, blurring his view of you gliding down the aisle with thoroughly-planned elegance. He had to block them to gather himself, as one would shield themselves from the sun.

But this moment tugs at his heart: when he opens the front door with the classic, “Honey, I’m home,” and you emerge from the bedroom with a swollen belly hidden under an old sweatshirt. The joy on your face is a moment he won’t forget. Granted, a portion of said joy might be thanks to the greasy bag and styrofoam cup he’s clutching desperately in one hand. Nevertheless, he savors the look and the feeling that must have felt similar to men who graced their families with bountiful hunting results.

Except in this case, the “bountiful hunting results” are chicken tenders with fries, extra honey mustard, and a large hot fudge sundae from your favorite restaurant that happens to be in the middle of nowhere and roughly 30 minutes away. But cravings are cravings, and they’ve been relentless throughout the second trimester. He’ll scope out the specific restaurants, local or corporate, if it makes you happy and appeases the baby girl (hopefully) inside you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” A kiss on the cheek sufficed as you waddled toward the kitchen. You put the sundae in the freezer for now and barely waste time getting a plate and napkins, but it’s less to clean up. And less for Spencer to double-clean later.

Before you sit down, Spencer takes the plate from you, and he swears for a minute he saw motherly instincts kick in.

“You don’t have to eat at the table," he says. “Come on,” he tilts his head toward the couch as he walks, the obvious not mentioned.

“We don’t eat on the couch.” You reply.

He’s still walking.

“You don’t like it. Crumbs, lingering nastiness, and other science-y terms you’ve used.”

He puts the plate on the coffee table. “I’m willing to make exceptions. Plus, with a baby, mess is inevitable.” He leans down, revealing the breakfast tray he bought. You clearly never saw it before. Because the way your open mouth morphed into a smile, he would've thought he unintentionally did magic. He pulled out the small legs. “I figured it’s best to adjust slowly while I still can.”

You walk toward him, your hands resting on your belly. “But this is your couch.”

“In our apartment.” He takes a pillow and fluffs it, setting it against the arm. “Sit.”

You eventually comply. There’s still a look on your face, indicating second-guessing, like you’re somehow doing this without his knowledge. Meanwhile, the breakfast tray is in his hands, and he makes sure you’re settled. You lay across the couch.

Spencer puts down the tray, asking if you want a drink before devouring. You shake your head, eyes staring down at the fatty American dish in front of you. While you begin, he picks a vinyl from your shared collection. The one thing he won’t waver about is the classics.

As in classical music.

As in Mozart. Spencer has noticed your familiarity with the symphonies over the past six months. He loves it, regardless of whether it’s just because he’s insisted you listen to classical after you told him the news.

When the melody flows, Spencer finds a seat on the couch. You slide your feet toward you to make room. As soon as he sits down, he puts your legs in his lap, letting you stretch out again. His lips disappear into his mouth for a minute as he suppresses a giggle.

All the chicken was either swallowed or mush in your mouth and specks of salt littered your lips and hands along with honey mustard drippings. This. Spencer's in love again. As you suck the sauce off your own fingers like it’s the only sustenance you’ve had in days. The comfort he feels here, knowing the woman basically attacking her dinner will be the mother of his child. This is something even his three PhDs are unable to put into words.

“Do you want some help?” Spencer leans over, takes the napkins under the plate, and wipes the corners. You continue chewing, polite enough to keep your mouth closed and manage its volume. “There.” He puts the napkin down. And he looks at you, realizing just how much you've changed his life.

“What?” Your mouth is so full.

“Nothing.”

You swallow almost everything. “Something.”

He shrugs. “I just love you.”

[urmomschocolatemilk]

➜ Simon Riley x gn!reader

➜ idk the word count, not proofread at all, reader is a foodie

➜ I was inspired. Also this is very self indulgent, I love food and you should to 🤷🏽‍♀️

The ringing of the doorbell is unprompted this late in the night. You’re not expecting anyone, although you did try to make plans with Simon earlier that day and he turned out to be busy. You’d assume he’s asleep by now.

You’re tempted to ignore whoever it is, unwilling to get up from your comfortable nest of blankets and pillows on your couch. A moment passes and the only sound in your apartment is the movie on your tv, but then the peaceful atmosphere is again broken by the ringing of your doorbell. You groan in annoyance, reaching through all the folds of blankets to find the remote and pause your movie before reluctantly throwing them off you and making your way to the door.

You’re tired and hungry, with no energy to even make a simple meal so as you undo the locks on your door you’re already thinking about the words you’re about to hit this asshole with, ready to lecture this fucker over every minor inconvenience in you’re entire life.

With the final click of the second lock you swing the door open, feeling the chill of winter air bite at your exposed skin. Opening your mouth you begin your berate of unpleasantries. “Who the fuck are you knocking on my door this la-“ you stop in your tracks.

“Oh - uh Simon?

What are you doing here?” he chuckles lightly. The sound makes you blush in embarrassment.

“I expect nothing less from you love,” his eyes shine in amusement from behind his mask.

“I’m just a bit on edge…sorry about that,” you explain sheepishly, and he hums in acknowledgment, sticking out a bag that you hadn’t noticed in his hand.

“This is for you, I felt bad about canceling earlier so I thought I’d drop by…” it’s his turn to be sheepish now, looking away from you as he speaks. Who knew a war hardened soldier could be so intimidated by simple conversation. You take the bag from his hand, a small smile making its way onto you’re face to replace the shocked one. Reaching into it, you pull out a styrofoam box, which you are now discovering to be the cause of the smell of your favorite cuisine. Your smile widens as you take a peak inside to find steaming hot, fresh food.

“You brought me food?” You ask, looking up at him with a grin. He nods. “Oh my god Simon I could kiss you thank you so much!” You squeal excitedly, “this is exactly what I needed right now!”

He finds himself smiling softly at your reaction, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading over his chest at the fact that he’d made you so happy. You wave him inside your space, the grin never leaving your face as you grabbed your utensils and sat down, pulling out a chair for him as you repeatedly thanks him.

He’d definitely be bringing by food for you more often.

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jason Dean x yandere/dark! reader; you surprise him with slushies for breakfast

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, suggestive stuff/frank sex talk as well as implied sex/smutish activities, mentions of insomnia, implied murder, the reader is very clingy and affectionate with JD (almost to a smothering amount but he doesn't mind), this is one of the more tame things I've written tbh

A/N: this is a twist on the "one character gets a blue drink and the other gets a red so naturally their tongues become purple by making out" trope. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes so I could have something posted for heathers day, which is September 1st, so if this sucks then that's why and I'm sorry (and then I got distracted and forgot so it's a day late oops)

JD used to think he hated sleeping in general, but after meeting you he just realized he hated sleeping alone. Laying in bed after downing half a bottle of melatonin gummies while waiting for sleep to kick in wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Lucky for him, you had plenty ways of resolving that issue.

Admittedly, they did a pretty good job at working effectively given that most of them involved you physically wearing him out. Whether it was with murder or sex, either way certainly made it easier for him to slip into a state of exhaustion and conk out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't mind much. In fact, the act of you tiring him out as quickly as possible once he complained about being unable to sleep was one that he quite enjoyed. He preferred to stay with you anyway. There was nothing at his house that made it worth sticking around other than the few vague personal effects of his, and most of them he'd transferred over to your place already.

The sun was already starting to peek through the blinds when he woke up, which signified he must've slept for a good long while. That didn't surprise him given just how late the two of you had stayed up the night before, but what did surprise him was your absence. Usually you waited until he woke up to leave the bed, or at the very least told him if you were going to get up.

Thank god you walked into the room a few minutes later, because otherwise he would've started to panic, and that was definitely not something he wanted to be doing so early in the morning.

"Hey, baby," you greeted as you kicked off your shoes and set two large Styrofoam cups you'd gotten from the 7/11 near your house on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

JD could practically feel his heartbeat start to slow back down once he saw you. You hadn't abandoned him, you just went out to get some slushies. No problem.

"Mh, yeah," he mumbled groggily as he sat up in the bed, watching you slip off his trenchcoat and toss it to the side. If he had been more awake, the sight of you wearing his clothes would've given him an instant boner, but the drowsiness he still felt was currently cancelling that out.

"Good, I'm glad." You sat down on the bed next to him, gently smoothing his messy hair back from his face before handing him one of the Styrofoam cups. "Here, I know how much you crave slushies the night after sex."

He gladly took the cup from you, immediately taking a big sip. "Thanks." It still felt weird, having someone being so affectionate and loving with him after everything he'd been through. A huge part of him felt like he didn't deserve it, but he knew you'd never leave him even if that was true. Something about how attached you were should've been unnerving, but JD was pretty unnerving himself so he wasn't bothered by it.

"Did you seriously wear your pajamas to go get slushies?" He asked after a moment, his brain finally catching up as he began to wake up more. The cold, sweet drink in his hands certainly helped matters.

"Well, I wasn't going to put on real clothes," you insisted lightheartedly before drinking some of your own slushie, which just so happened to be the opposite color of his. "Besides, we both know they're not going to stay on much longer anyway."

"Oh god," he muttered under his breath, though he was unable to keep the faint smirk of amusement off his face when you said that.

"Here, lemme have your drink for a moment." You placed both cups back on the nightstand before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he hadn't gotten properly dressed yet.

"C'mon, I wasn't finished," he complained with a slight huff even as he let you push him flat onto his back with no other protest.

"You can finish later. For now, I say we take the blue and red from our drinks and make purple." Your voice came out in a low tease when you spoke, your body hovering over his as you leaned down to capture his lips in another kiss.

Both of your tongues were successfully colored purple and your drinks were no longer cold when you were done, but it was so worth it.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

i humbly request dewther medical au pls

Aether's been on-call for about...sixty-five hours, he thinks. He's downed countless styrofoam cups of bitter, lukewarm coffee and the words on his screen are starting dance again.

"Delivery for Doctor Sexy." Comes a flat, monotone voice from the doorway. He looks up to see his number one favorite nurse scowling at him and holding out a flat, hospital issue pillow.

"You're to report to the nap room." Dew says. "I'm prescribing you a rest period of about seven hours but I have strict orders to leave you alone if you're still down by hour eight unless a fucking seventeen car pile up comes in."

"Are you authorized to use force, Ma'am?" He asks, near drunk in his sleeplessness.

The pillow hits him square in the face.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

a drabble where jti!jungkook takes care of oc when she is sick 🥹

"Darling" I hear whispered in my ear, stirring me awake from my ill ridden coma.

I hum in acknowledgment, only opening one eye to block out as much light as I can, greeted with his warm smile laced with concern.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, sitting on the bed beside me and placing a kiss on my brow, partially to show affection, the other part with the purpose of checking my temperature.

"You're still burning up" he say, more to himself than me, finding out the answer to the question he had just asked to save me from wasting the energy to provide a response.

"What's that?" I rasp out, chancing a glance at the white styrofoam cup in his hand with a red straw sticking out of it. "I know that ginger ale helps with nausea and because you have a fever I figured I would make you a slushy with it" he says, caressing my face for a second, taking in the weakened state of me.

"You wanna sit up" he asks and I nod my head, leaving him helping me up and resting me against the headboard.

I've been like this for two days and although my fever is relatively low grade we still haven't gotten it to break, leaving me listless and barely grasping on to consciousness.

He hasn't left my side unless necessary for instance to make us food or get me whatever other item I might ask him for. I haven't asked for much but he's always rushed out to get it after placing a kiss on my brow, the closest I've let him get to my lips since this fever bloomed.

"How is it?" he asks as I have been nursing the drink for the past few minutes. "Really good" I say truthfully, the ginger flavor dancing across my tastebuds while the texture of the slush cools me from the inside. The first truly refreshing thing I've consumed in the past forty eight hours.

I shiver at the feeling after a while, the chill settling in a bit too quickly and he gently asks for the cup which I offer up for him to place on the nightstand next to me.

"Anything else I can get you?" he asks and I barely shake my head 'no', taking care not to do it too hard or too fast since it'll only plague me with more dizziness than I'm currently graced with.

"How's your ear?" he asks, the cause of this fever being an ear infection that's wreaked havoc on my body in more ways than one.

"There's lot of pressure and it hurts a little but it isn't too bad" I answer truthfully and he takes a look at the time. "Should I give you some more ear drops?" he questions while running a hand up and down my thigh, a gentle caress meant to provide comfort more than anything.

"Yes please" I respond and he gives me a sad smile before helping me lay down on my side, the ear in question facing up for ease of administering antibiotics.

The cool liquid hits my ears, once, twice, thrice and the sensation soothes the heat that had been building since the last dose had withered away.

He places the bottle on the nightstand right next to the slush and takes up his seat again, rubbing my back now and trying to coax me back asleep.

"Can you lay with me?" I mumble out and I'm met with a deep chuckle. "Of course baby. Want Daddy to hold you?" he teases but I pay no mind to it and simply hum in response again.

He knows he can get away with calling himself Daddy in times like this and even I chance calling him that as well, knowing it makes him happy. He just wants to take care of me and I would love nothing more than that, no matter how silly his ways of going about it are.

He settles in next to me and drapes an arm around my waist, not cuddling in too close in fear of raising my fever and against all of my protest that's as far as he'll go.

I whine like I do every time, wanting to burry my face in his chest instead of this damn pillow that's been my companion for the past two days but he simply runs his hand up and down my side, providing me with his love and attention without chancing worsening my condition.

"I'll hold you close all you want later but we've gotta get you better first" he says, slipping his hand under the loose t shirt he's provided me to wear through this so I'm not bundled up too warm.

I shiver in response to his cold fingers now tracing patterns up and down every bare inch of skin he can find. "Your hands are cold" I groan granting me another chuckle from behind. "You'll survive" he say, scooting just a little bit closer making me smile.

~~~~

I love them sm 🥹

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Spectator of Diamonds.

The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone. But,,, the show, it must go on. He is both the actor and the audience.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Cater settles into his seat. It’s cushy and comforting, the pillows almost cloud-like as he sinks down, becoming one with them.

The theater--empty, dark--is his domain, his castle. And he, the lone king atop of it all.

Click, click, click!

He looks up, finding that the stage lights have flared on. Glaring, hot. Four figures stand there in masks--yet he can see the echoes of himself in their verdant eyes, the orange hair cropping out from their false faces.

They are he, and he is they.

The set rolls in, setting the scene. They are wooden cutouts painted over and mounted in wheels or lowered on pulleys. Students in the wings operate them, hidden from the audience's view.

Here begins another story, a series of illusions to craft a beautiful lie.

"There's so much to do before the unbirthday party!" declares Cater the First, a crown upon his head. He waves an ornate staff over his followers, directing their activities. "Chop, chop! Let's hop to it, everyone! There's not a second to waste."

Cater the Second, in a hat and glasses, ferries a towering cake, as fake as the rest of the production. He knows the sponge is styrofoam and the frosting is plaster and paint. Still, he handles the dessert as though it is made of gold.

Cater the Third wrestles with a horde of plastic lawn flamingos and hedgehog plushies. Cater the Fourth, on a stepladder, stringing up a banner. The Third hurries past the Fourth, his foot catching on a foot of the ladder and nearly tripping him.

Righting himself, the Third hollers, "Hey, stay out of my way! Couldn't you have picked a better spot to do your work?"

To him, the Fourth coolly replies, "Not my fault you weren't watching where you were going."

"What was that?!"

"You heard me."

"Say that again to my face, I dare you!"

"I just did."

"Guys, guys! Relax," warns the Second, placing his cake down on a table. "The last thing we need is drama on an unbirthday."

"He's right," says the First. His brows draw together, not yet a full frown but coming close to it. "Drop it and get back to your tasks."

They scramble to each other, a flock reuniting and tending to their kin.

Cater has witnessed this scene many times over. The chaos, the mini-quarrels. From a safe distance, he watches, wearing the usual stitched smile.

Always a member of the audience, never the actor.

A longing ache fills his chest.

He wonders if now is a good time to clap, to interject. Make his presence known somehow.

Cater moves to speak, but doubt arrests him.

No—they don’t need me. They don’t want me there. They’re fine on their own. You’ll only make things worse.

The whispers start.

“Something’s off.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Something’s missing.”

Cater surveys his surroundings.

The theater is empty, save for himself. It does not silence the voices coming from all corners, their murmur easily filling the room. It’s as though there is a full house, minus the bodies.

Just as hollow as he is.

“It’s fine!" he calls out to Nobody. "I’m sure the show will get better. They know what they're doing."

"It's incomplete," the whispers insist.

"We need you, Cater."

He gasps, his attention returning to the stage. The Caters are gone, their masks and propr lying abandoned upon it.

That sounds like...

"Trey."

Him, and the others. Their dorm leader and the duo of irksome first years are frozen mid-party prep. Trey strolls past them and to the edge of their pretend world,

He crouches down and grins. "What are you doing down there?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm spectating, silly."

"Spectating? That's an odd thing to do." Trey leans, offering his hand. "Come on. Heartslabyul isn't complete without you."

Cater stares. "But I… I like it here. It’s familiar.”

It’s safe.

Trey cocks his head. “But you also want to be up here, with the rest of us… don’t you?“

“You don’t get it. I—” Cater wavers. “I can’t, even if I want to. I just can’t, okay?”

Under the spotlights, they’ll see me for who I really am.

Trey watches him carefully. His golden eyes soften with understanding. "You're scared."

"Who said I was scared?" Cater attempts at a laugh. It doesn't come out quite right, petering out too quickly. "You're imagining things."

"I don't think so." He shakes his head. "This isn't you, Cater. You haven't been you for a long while now. I wish you'd be more genuine with us. With me."

"I am!"

Cater speaks louder than he means to. His exclamation hushes the others in the audience, silencing dissent.

For one long, horrible moment, he sees the sadness reaching Trey's face. The hope draining. Coldness overtakes Cater, and his mind goes to the worst places: his friend turning away, leaving.

His vision stings. He blinks, and the tears blur the world and the people in it, the stage and its actors.

His house of cards, collapsing.

It's over.

From the disparaging silence, a hushed voice rises.

"It's okay. You can be yourself," Trey says reassuringly. He's warm, like a blanket draped over his body. "Smile when you want to smile. Cry when you want to cry. Share it all with us. We'll embrace it."

A tear breaks free from Cater. The magic words, dispelling the dam holding his feelings back.

"Ah... Geez,” he mutters, wiping at his cheek. “Y-You're making me sentimental...!”

“I’d say that’s a pretty good start,” Trey chuckles. “… Hey, Cater. I think it’s about time. You’ll join us, right?”

“Hah. Of course…!”

That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Cater rises and races to the stage. Slipping his hand in Trey's, he holds tight lets himself be hoisted up.

The ground is firm beneath his feet, the lights drying his tears. His heart drums with exhilaration—it feels so right. Like he belongs.

Up close, he should see the set falling apart. The wooden textures, the peeling paint. But it looks more real than ever, with foliage shifting in the wind and the aroma of roses perfuming the air. The stage, expanding.

Cater walks into the waiting wonderland.

"Found him!" Trey announces to the rest of the cast.

The scene resumes, the characters returning to motion.

"There you are, Cater!" Riddle cries out. "I certainly hope you weren't planning on offloading your responsibilities onto your underclassmen... again."

"Pfft!" Ace fails to contain a mocking laugh, his gaze sliding over to Deuce. "Yeah, cuz what kind of idiot would fall for something like that?"

"Sh-Shut up! You'd have wanted to help out your senpai too if you were there!!"

"No worries. I promise no more tricks this time. I'm... too tired for that."

"Cater?" Riddle takes a proper look at him, then narrows his eyes. "Have you been... crying?"

"Yeah. I think... I'll need a moment, Riddle-kun. Sorry, I'm going through a lot right now.”

It is his truth. The joy, and the levity it grants him, overwhelming.

He's finally among them.

Finally Somebody.

[veyveyx]

THAT GIRL

peter parker― that girl, emei. starks daughter.

you woke up right before your alarm went off. going on your daily early morning walk.

it was seventy degrees with a light breeze.

you walked into school with your coffee, black. you had left your phone at home but were happy reading poetry on the coast.

finding inner peace between working with your dad and watching over peter parker, spiderman.

you were trying to be that girl, with the perfect hair and who didn't care. and somehow, everything went right for that girl. you wanted to be that girl.

you were running late to liz's party when you left a dent in your car. you tried to call him but your phone wasn't charged.

now you were just that girl that tried way too damn hard.

you maxed out your credit card. trying to play dress up so you could look the part.

you were just that girl that tried way too damn hard.

oh, your phone just died.

you woke up and it was already two pm.

shit you had missed your alarm again.

mascara stains on your pillow case, yesterday's styrofoam as your coffee cup.

peter was texting you, "are you up?"

yeah, you've been in meetings for your dad for hours and hours. worked out with natasha and steve, took a shower.

you were that girl, with the perfect hair. that girl who didn't really care.

and somehow, everything went right for that girl. that girl, you wanted to be that girl.

you were running late, left a dent in your car.

you'd call peter but your phone wasn't charged. now you were just that girl that tried way too damn hard.

you maxed out all your credit cards, buying clothes to dress up and play the part but now all you were was that girl who tried way too damn hard.

you were like that girl, with the perfect hair. that girl, who didn't really care.

and somehow, everything went right for that girl. that girl, he liked you because you were pretending to be that girl.

[miheartsedthings]

Moon River

You like cleaning the Hargrove room for many reasons. First of all, he sleeps most of the time. It makes sense, of course. His injuries were severe. On the night he came in there was plenty of blood to be mopped up, and the nurse’s station was buzzing with conspiracies about what could’ve done that to him. More logical minds concluded it was a bear, no matter how many details didn’t support that theory. 

Second, there’s a brunette lady who brings fresh flowers every Sunday. She’s accompanied by a red-headed girl grumbling that Billy doesn’t like flowers. The lady gently shushes her, insisting it’s better than nothing. The flowers keep the room fresh and add color. 

Third, his friends are fun. Their names are Steve and Robin. Both of them left their names and numbers with the nurses, insisting they be notified of any changes. When his birthday came in March, they brought a cake with Marlboros for candles. He was awake for a full thirty minutes the day he turned eighteen. 

Lastly (you admit this is a little creepy) he’s beautiful. His room gets full moonlight through the wide windows, and at night, the space glows. Pale moonshine fills the air with the languid ease of water. If you sit still, everything seems submerged and he’s there at its center. An angel in silver light. 

You always save his room for last, but tonight, as you quietly push the latch, your heart jolts. He’s sitting up, gazing out at the moon. You settle yourself and quietly tap the door with a knuckle. His head turns slow, as if moving through that water.  

“Hey,” you softly call. He doesn’t answer. His expression is so soft, like he’s barely holding a thought behind his eyes. You wonder if he’s fully conscious and decide there’s no way. You make your way in, closing the door behind you. He makes a little sound, and when you look up you see him reaching for a Styrofoam cup of water on the side table. His aim is clumsy, and just as he’s getting close a jerky movement knocks the cup over. You rush to catch it, but there’s already a puddle. He makes another injured sound and lays back down. 

You bring what’s left of the water over to him, bending the straw to his lips. He drinks just a little, before a weak sigh escapes him and his head falls back against the pillow. His unfocused eyes are on the ceiling.

God.

His eyes are beautiful, too. 

“You’re healing up, fast.” You say, and that balmy gaze falls onto you. “It’s a good thing. People miss you.” 

You could be wrong, but you swear you see a little grin before he falls back asleep. 

[thenextsexyman]

Happy Halloween!

My take on Harley Quinn from Batman: The Animated Series for my costume this year.

I’m really proud of how she came out- and that I managed to balance creating the outfit and prop with midterms! Definitely one of my favorite outfits I’ve made.

Materials and Process:

Completely hand stitched in my dorm room using two separate jumpsuits I attached together. The collar is made from a pillow case and styrofoam, the decals on the limbs are made of scraps from the original jumpsuits.

The hammer is made of Target trash cans, wood, and foam.

Wig is from Amazon, boots I already owned.

Overall cost was about $168, took about 20 hours total. I think if I used a sewing machine instead of hand stitching it could have been done in 10 hours, but that’s just me estimating.