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lix-ables · 1 year

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⌗ rich boy things – hyunjin + car sex .

🥡 smut includes, fem!reader, dry humping, hand jobs (while he’s on the phone with his father), mentions of ruined orgasms (because he absolutely loves teasing the shit out of you), lovesick + pussy drunk hyunjin, etc etc. word count: 971. (MINORS DNI.)

💌 note: its been a while but hihi, im back!! i was initially going to post something else??? but this has been in my drafts since april

©lix-ables 2022. consider leaving comments and feedbacks !! happy reading ‹33

hyunjin was annoyingly pretty and he knew it, so sneaking around on the campus way past your curfew can be excused, right?

here you were in his car’s passenger seat with your hand wrapped around his dick while he was on an important call. how did you know that? because he told you it was his father, and still your fingers played with the tip, your palm resting under your chin as you watch him shut his eyes.

his other hand moves to wrap around the wrist that was currently busy, and he turns to look at you. “yes dad, i understand,” he sighs and replies. “no im not out racing. i’m with the boys. panting? have you thought maybe it's your hearing?” hyunjin clears his throat and shifts in his seat, making your hand fall on his thigh. but that gave you even more of a reason to stroke him instead of just touching him. a little teasing wouldn’t hurt no one. your thumb rubs circles on his tip before wrapping your whole hand around it, earning a small grunt from him.

“listen i need to go. they need my help with something. yes, i’ll call you tomorrow.”

“you like what you see don’t you, darlin’?” hyunjin’s voice stops you from your task, and makes you look at him. he stares at you, smiling before setting his phone in his jacket pocket.

his hand finds your bare thigh and you curse yourself for wearing pj shorts while it was cold outside. “i thought i told you the call was important,” he mumbles, his fingers snaking all the way up to the hem of your shirt and tugging it toward him. “i want this off,” he nods at your shorts, and you bite your lip in frustration. “i thought we were here to talk,” a whimper leaves your throat when he pulls you to him. “we’re talking. this is good communication, don’t you think?” you let him pull you onto his lap, and you struggle out of your shorts in the process. “i was getting ready for bed, it’s way past curfew what if someone –” hyunjin presses a kiss to your lips, his hands wrapped around your waist and it just dawns to you, that his dick is still out, and is now between the two of you. “no one is going to come here, and you know that,” he smiles again, his finger twirling around a strand of hair that wasn’t held together by the band.

you hum in response, the chill breeze making goosebumps form on your bare skin and you grind against hyunjin’s dick. you’re probably going to have to buy new underwear but fuck it. “this again? and you said you wanted to talk,” he smirks, tugging on the strand of hair in his hand, and his fingers find your shirt, pulling it up so he has more access. your hand wraps around his wrist when you feel him move your underwear aside, and he clicks his tongue. “baby, let me in hmmm? it’s not fair that only you get to do the teasing. it works both ways. besides, no one’s around so i could probably edge you say, four to five times? i’m sure you can take it yeah? because i sure as hell want to see that tight and pretty pussy of yours clenching around my fingers when i don’t let you come.” hyunjin tilts his head to look at you, he shifts the material a bit more before resting two fingers to your clit, and pinches it a little. your thighs shudder at the feeling and he leans back against the seat. “you’d beg me to let you come, but you won’t. you like it too much hmm?”

you nod and his hand reaches down and finds the adjustment lever at the side and moves the seat back a bit more, so there is space for both of you. “when i didn’t see you in class today, i thought something had happened,” he mumbles as he moves his free hand to stroke his dick, bringing it closer to your entrance. “i missed you today, doll.” hyunjin’s fingers work on rubbing random patterns to your clit and you feel yourself getting even wetter than you were ten minutes ago.

“you were supposed to come pick me up, idiot,” you lean forward close to his ear and press a small kiss to his neck. your hands hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the leather jacket that he was wearing before going back to grind against his dick.

“just the tip, i swear,” he rests his head at the crook of your neck, his free hand now holding you close to him as you move faster against him. you’re breathing faster now and your fingers come to rub your clit, applying more friction. “baby, let me –” hyunjin swears, his hand shivering and you turn your head to the window – it’s drizzling. the sound of rain muffling out your moans and hyunjin’s swears as he manages to guide your hips toward him, his tip close to your pussy, before entering just a little. “that’s it baby, fuck.”

his hands rest at your lower back, his fingers slowly pulling up your shirt from the back as you ride against him. you’re mumbling something about having a real talk after this, but all hyunjin can hear is your whines and whimpers as he pulls himself out just to replace his dick with his fingers.

“you’re coming on my tongue and my dick once we get to your room,” he grunts, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. “not yet, darlin’. hold it for me.” with his fingers now buried inside you, and your body grinding up against his palm, hyunjin meant what he said. teasing works both ways.

taglist: @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @comet-falls @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol @es-kay-zee @writerracha @bbujiikseu @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #skz hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut drabbles #skz hwang hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #kpop smut drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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aliensupastar · 1 year

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not wrong, but not right

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.

Part II Part III

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?

A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3

All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school.

Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at.

You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed.

“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.

“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better.

You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good.

Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily.

“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”

“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.”

Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you.

When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.

It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it.

You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut.

Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days.

Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry.

When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct.

“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon.

“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”

You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback.

“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.

It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again.

You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you.

When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours.

You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right-

Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister.

“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you.

The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again.

Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.

You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it.

You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently.

“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it.

“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.

“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.”

“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.

“Because-“

“Why aren’t you eating, chef?”

You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence.

“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.

“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads.

You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take.

“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.”

“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.

“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him.

He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight.

“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.”

He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air.

“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.”

You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit.

“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle.

“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair.

“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.”

“I’m okay with that.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto angst #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 | 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

ʚ lando norris x female reader

ʚ nothing hurts more than hearing the person you love most in the world have nothing but hate for himself…

ʚ a bit angsty but also fluff

ʚ seeing lando today broke my heart, hearing his post sprint interview and it just made me want to do a little blurb…i think mental health in F1 is overlooked and something needs to change because anyone can see any of these drivers struggle…

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Lando…it’s not your fault.

You stood at the foot of the hotel bed, worry in your eyes as Lando continued to go over notes from the past two days at the small desk in the corner of the room.

“Yes it is my fucking fault! I’m shit! Have you not seen anything this weekend?!”

“You’re not listening to me Lando, it isn’t your fault.”

He remained silent, the pen gripped tightly in his hand

“Yesterday was unfortunate but you know how messy these track limits are, not to mention the wind wasn’t helping the performance of the cars baby…I know you wanted to do better today, and P3 is still amazing Lan, not to mention we have tomorrow to prepare for.”

“Yeah well i’m gonna be shit again.”

“Look at me”

“No”

You sighed

“Lando look at me”

Slowly but surely his eyes met yours and the held a deep rooted sadness you wish you could just take away from him. In a few short strides you were in front of him, his face held gently in your hands

“You listen to me, you are so fucking talented and I see it everyday. The dedication and work you put into this sport shows, and I know…I know it’s been hard my love I know, but I can’t stand to see you hurt yourself with words that aren’t true, you might not believe it right now but I do, and I’ll believe it for you if I have too.”

It was hard not to get emotional over this, Lando was your everything, and to see him hurting this much, felt like a punch in the gut.

“It’s-It’s just frustrating…”

You nod, listening intently, knowing he’s got more to say

“I just feel like I keep failing the team and falling behind…and i-i’m not..i’m not..” he paused taking a breath

“Take your time baby…”

Lando looks away momentarily, collecting himself before looking back at you

“I don’t want to disappoint the team…my parents, my friends…you”

“Lan…you are the furthest thing from a disappointment and I hate that your head is telling you otherwise. You’ve accomplished so much in your career, and at home with your family and me…everyday you go out and make us all proud.”

Watching him carefully you pulled him up and brought him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly as his head rested against your collarbone.

“Things will get better, I know they will, but I need you to know that it’s not your fault, because it isn’t Lando..”

“Not my fault.”

He mumbled softly against your neck, which was enough for you, even if he didn’t believe it now, you’d make sure to help him see it, no matter how long it took.

“I love you and i’m so fucking proud of you, everyday my love.”

As Lando stayed in your embrace he pressed a kiss to your throat before pulling back, his eyes slightly bloodshot

“I love you too.”

He might not have said much the rest of the night, but as long as he knew he’d have you right beside him to help him through the long days and tough night, he knew he’d be okay.

No matter how long it took, with you, everything would be okay.

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 3 months

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Thanks to the Amortentia - S.Snape

Summary - When Y/N goes to fetch her cloak back from Severus, she is overwhelmed by the scent of him in the dungeons. Turns out that the students are brewing amortentia, giving away her affections for the broody professor.

Pairings - Severus Snape x Fem!Professor!Reader

Warnings - Embarrassment, female reader, use of Y/N, mentions of bets

Author's Note - She's finally here! I know it took me a little while to write this but school and work have been kicking my ass lately. I was supposed to get this done yesterday because I was supposed to have a half day at work but that turned to be a full day instead. Fingers crossed that I'll be back to writing more consistently soon!

Based off this requests from @acupnoodle thanks for the request!!

Expect delays in my posting! My semester has started and I am taking 4 classes! Please be patient with me!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

After working so closely with Severus Snape, the scent of the man was something she was used to, the smell of old books, wine and something uniquely Severus. Because she was the only professor in the school that grew the ingredients he needed for potions, the two had formed an unlikely friendship. One that the students and fellow professors thought was strange.

She had realized that she had left her warm cloak in his office the night before, finding her way to the dungeons to grab it. The second she stepped foot in the dungeons, she smelt Severus, a very strong scent of Severus. She made her way to the potions classroom, seeing the students leaning over their cauldrons as she walked in. Her head was beginning to hurt because of how strong the smell was.

“The whole dungeon smells like you, Sev! It’s giving me a headache!” She said loudly as she approached the man.

“Here’s your cloak, you left it on my desk last night,” He handed her the cloak with a slight smirk on his face, “The students are brewing amorentia today.”

She felt her heart pick up speed and heat rush to her face, she muttered a quick thank you before fleeing the room. The students were all in shock as to what they had just witnessed. One brave soul, Mattheo Riddle, raised his hand, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yes, Mr. Riddle,” Severus sighed, knowing what the boy was going to ask just by the look on his face.

“What do you smell, professor?”

“None of your business, get back to brewing.”

In reality, Severus was in bliss at the smell in the room, it was earthy and floral with a little bit of something sweet hiding behind the other scents. He felt bad for embarrassing her so he chased after her although he knew that leaving the class was a terrible idea. “Y/N! Come back!” He shouted to her retreating body. She had stopped short, turning around and slowly made her way back to him. By the time she had reached him, he had a full blown grin on his face.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to make fun of me because I don’t think I can handle that,” She pleaded quietly, looking down at her feet.

“Can you look at me please?” He asked her, but she shook her head, refusing to look up. He gently grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger and guided her head to look up at him. “I smell you too.”

“You do?” Her face had lit up with excitement, a smile reaching her lips.

“I do,” Severus admitted, “Meet me in our spot tonight? So we can have a proper date?”

“I’ll be there, Sev,” She smiled, kissing his cheek before skipping her way back to her own classroom. He turned back to his class, a gentle smile still gracing his face until he noticed all of the students at the doorway, having listened to every word the two had said to each other. His smile quickly dropped, stepping back into his usual attitude.

“Get back to your seats,” He droned to the students, all of them scurrying back to their spots like roaches, “10 points will be taken from each of your houses for listening in on a conversation between professors.”

By the time dinner came around, the whole school had known that the two professors fancied each other. Most of the other professors had already known how the two felt before confessing. It was the talk of the castle for the remainder of the year, the potions students bragging to the other students that they got to witness what had happened between the pair.

Multiple students had won bets, many had lost and even some professors had won. But in the end, it was really Severus and Y/N who had won, finally confessing their feelings all thanks to the amortentia.

Taglist

@bigsimperika

#harry potter #severus snape x reader #professor snape #pro snape #severus snape #snape #request #snape love #severus snape imagine #pro severus snape #severus #severus snape fandom

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onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

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unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me lucifer #otome #obey me fluff #obey me x reader

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misc-obeyme · 1 year

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Solomon Alone

Okay I am having some health issues, but I've been feeling pretty good today. And since I have some energy, I'm also kind of on a roll with writing tonight. I don't think I've ever posted two things in one day, but hey I'm just gonna go with it.

It's another Solomon story because I'm obsessed with him. This is a pretty short one about how he might be feeling after Lesson 12. This is assuming he doesn't have ulterior motives or anything.

It's a bit different from my usual fluff... I would say this one is all angst, but listen I don't question my muse when that slacker finally shows up.

Solomon x GN!MC

Warnings: Hurt/angst and SPOILERS for Lesson 12 of Nightbringer

Solomon watched as you lost consciousness. He heard himself asking Thirteen what to do, heard her say she couldn't help. He heard the brothers crying out your name, hoping you would somehow wake up. He saw the look of anguish on Lucifer's face, even as he held the grimoire that you had handed over to him.

Through a fog, Solomon helped the demons bring you out of the reaper's cave. When they were prepared to bring you back to Cocytus Hall, he told them to take you to the House of Lamentation instead. He convinced them that you would be most comfortable in the spare room there.

And Solomon went back to Cocytus Hall alone. He walked through it in a daze, not at all registering the environment around him. His mind was fully occupied by the sight of you falling to the ground, struck by the magic of the fountain.

When Satan came to talk to him about researching curses, Solomon listened. He agreed to help Satan look through all of the books they could find on the subject. It was a welcome distraction. It slowly pulled him out of the fog that had clouded his mind. He spent hours and hours reading through those books. All day and all night, he tried to find the answer to what had happened to you.

Because now that he was thinking a little more clearly… wasn't all of this his fault?

Solomon was the one who brought you to Thirteen's cave, to the Fountain of Knowledge. If he hadn't done that, if you hadn't been there when you made that promise, then you would still be awake right now.

That guilt was something he couldn't afford to think about too much. He threw himself into the research to prevent it from crushing him entirely. Not now, not while you still needed him.

He could face the shame of what he had done when you were awake again. He knew he would have to. He wouldn't be able to look into your eyes or see your brilliant smile without also feeling the heaviness of knowing he had caused your suffering.

It was easier with you resting at the House of Lamentation. He must have known that subconsciously when he convinced the brothers to take you there. He knew each of them would be spending time by your side, taking care of you. It allowed him to stay away so he could focus on fixing the mess he'd made.

It was only one of the many reasons he had sent you with them, though. The fact was, there were seven of them and only one of him. He couldn't take care of you the way they could. He could try to give you everything he had, give you all of his love, all of his knowledge, every part of him. And still they would always be able to give you more.

Solomon was sure you'd have an opinion on his thoughts if you were here to express them. Even so he felt himself reverting back to being nothing more than your teacher. You were his adorable apprentice and he would always be proud of you. He would do all he could to make sure you knew the magic you needed to survive and thrive in the Devildom and the human world.

He would teach you all he could no matter what, but he knew he couldn't hold onto you forever.

Solomon sat alone in his room at Cocytus Hall. A room you had poked your head into to ask him about this or that. A place where you sometimes looked for him to talk to him about your day or ask him questions about things that were on your mind.

It seemed like anywhere he went in the hall, there you were. The ghostly memory of you, standing in the kitchen making breakfast or sitting in an overstuffed chair in the library, reading. He saw you everywhere and the reality of your absence pulsed through his bones, settling into a dull ache. He was so good at ignoring this pain while he worked, it was days before he admitted to himself just how much he missed you.

And while working and researching was the only thing that was keeping him from falling into that pain, there was a little voice of doubt in the back of his mind. He couldn't help having the suspicion that your curse would break without him. That it didn't matter how much time he spent going through piles of books, that in the end it would be your tie to the brothers that would wake you up.

That once again, he would only be able to stand by and watch as magic beyond his control altered you and your life.

More than anything, Solomon was afraid that he couldn't save you.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer lesson 12 #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me fanfic #misc writes

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gotham-ruaidh · 4 months

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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wildlife4life · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

*Peeks head out from hidey hole* Hey ya'll...I'm back! It has been a hot minute since I've been truly active here. Getting through the holidays, getting ready for school, general stay at home mom stuff, and just literal lack of writers block/motivation kept from working on wips. But I have seen and very much appreciated every tag! Thank you for not forgetting about me!

Today I've been tagged by the wonderful and glamorous @giddyupbuck, @wikiangela, and @disasterbuckdiaz. Looking forward to all your upcoming works and loving all that has been posted already!

Alright, so I know several are wanting some NFL Buck and I promise I will be getting back to the fic once I am finished with my 4+1 Buck's kindness being a cockblocker. So here is some of that! Enjoy!

A tear-filled okay is Buck’s only answer and together with Eddie, they sit there for a long minute, listening to Maddie take several deep breaths, each one becoming smoother than the last. After the fourth deep breath, she answer’s Buck’s earlier worries, “No one is hurt. I’m sorry.” Her voice is a little rough and she hiccups, trying to hold back more sobs. “Okay that’s good. Means whatever has you breaking our ear drums is fixable.” Buck reassures. “Our ears?” Maddie repeats, “Oh god. Eddie?” Mortification leeched into her sadness. “I’m here. Gave Buck quite a scare, me too.” Eddie answers gently. A short second of silence, then the sound of skin smacking skin, “Oh my god, I forgot all about the kid free weeks of debauchery Buck and you had planned! Oh god! Are you two even dressed? Did I interrupt?” Buck’s cheeks flare bright red and Eddie’s brain comes to halt for a moment at the Maddie’s description of their time without Christopher. “I swear I did not call it that!” Buck hissed under his breath to Eddie. Maddie clearly heard him and gives an awkward cough, “Um no. Actually, those were Howie’s words. Apparently, Eddie, you didn’t hide the uh contents of your duffle that well.” “Dios.” Eddie groaned, his mind flashing to bag he had packed to stay with Buck for the next weeks. Of course, he didn’t bring just clothes and basic toiletries. While Buck had an impressive collection of toys and other pleasurable items of his own, Eddie was a bit possessive. He wanted new, unused, and untouched by anyone but him and Buck. Mainly him. And Chimney somehow caught a glimpse of the debauchery Eddie was bringing with him. The elder Buckley sibling hummed, “Yea…” “Can I be struck by lightening again?” Buck mumbles, scraping a harsh hand down his heated face.

This fic is close to being done and I am super nervous because I am working on the final scene and its supposed to be very smutty with a very desperate Eddie. Never done that before and I'm hoping its up to standards. Anywho... Hope you all enjoyed! You can find previous snippets of this wip here.

Tagging (no pressure... bet you're surprised to me again! lol): @malewifediaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998 @jeeyuns @devirnis @lover-of-mine @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @elvensorceress @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @eddiescowboy @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @prosperdemeter2 @rainbow-nerdss @gayedmundodiaz

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heyidkyay · 1 year

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Blueberry Muffin |

Okay, haven't posted anything much like this before but I've been sick, bored out of my mind, and have recently gotten reacquainted with my love for The 1975. So here's a cringy and crappy short fic for all my Matty Healy fans:) Just a forewarning, this hasn't been edited.

Summary: London, its many strangers, and a whole lot of guessing..?

Mentions: anxiety, food

Fuck.

Fuck-fuck-fucking-fuck.

The grit of my teeth had long since begun to hurt my jaw as I ground them together, but I paid it no mind and just continued to aimlessly tap away at my upper thigh. Questioning, once again, why I had forced myself into another one of these situations. Fucking London.

It wasn’t that I was some sort of recluse or anything like that, promise. It’s just that somedays my anxiety grew so intense it made me want to hide away from everything and anything. Even myself.

But I’d had a somewhat decent nights sleep and woke up feeling alright, so I’d decided to venture out into the city to pick up some things I’d been putting off for a while now. December had come and gone, Christmas a bleary haze, and now that the January sales had finally died down, I figured that things might not be as hectic as they typically were so that I could just pop in and out.

I really should’ve known better.

London, even on the slowest of all days, was nothing if not polluted by people. And if there was one thing you could truly rely on, was that not a single one of them gave a shit about you. No, there was none of that Northern politeness here down south. And Central was the worst for it.

Still, it was home, and most days I liked the feeling of being nearly invisible. Because the city was also so incredibly easy to lose yourself in, you could blend seamlessly into the masses and nobody would be none the wiser. Yeah, there was a bump to the shoulder here, and the beep of an oncoming cab there. But no one remembered your face, or even the unhelpful apology that usually followed without a second glance.

Albeit saying that, here I was, stood on some random street corner, somewhere between Carnaby and Soho, outside a cafe or some other, struggling to resemble the simple act of appearing calm.

I was beyond ready to just head home, but knowing the underground like I did and the thought of having to sit within such a close proximity to a hundred other commuters was not something I felt like would help very much at this moment. So I’d ultimately decided to just head over to the nearest coffee shop and grab myself a brew. But yet, I was still stood here, agonising over the fact that to do exactly that, I would ultimately have to go inside and interact with even more people.

It seemed that my anxiety was winning the war this time around, because I just could not see myself doing it. So instead, I kept loitering, letting my eyes roam over the rest of the people that passed by me blissfully unaware.

As mad as London was, it was also one of the best places to people-watch, there were thousands of people constantly bustling there way around and each of them wore some part of their story on their person. Whether it was a wine stained blouse, an exaggerated yawn, or a neon coloured mohawk peaking ten inches above an otherwise balding head.

So I found myself just idly watching as I took a moment to breathe, propping myself up against the nearest brick wall.

There were a bunch of school lads pissing about a little down the way, shoving and laughing amongst themselves whilst a couple of older women shook their heads in passing. I rolled my eyes and transferred my attention. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath at the grinning toddler who then blew past, a struggling parent staggering behind.

The wind today seemed gentle, although a tad bit cold, so I dragged the sleeves of my jumper down over my hands in an attempt to warm them slightly. It was then that a larger group caught my gaze. They had congregated just outside the tiny cafe I was stood beside, six or seven girls around my age, perhaps a little bit younger, all appeared to be clawing for the attention of some bloke they’d crowded around. I surveyed them a little in amusement- Oh, what most men would give, I thought with a soft snort.

I couldn’t see much of him, the man, just the top of his head really. A mass of dark curls. He appeared to be taking the sudden devotion in his stride though, talking back and forth animately, nodding along with enough enthusiasm that his hair sort of followed in a bounce of its own.

Another breeze hit then and as I shivered I wished that I’d remembered to grab my scarf on the way out this morning instead of just my headphones- which, were now almost completely dead. I was helplessly trying to save the last of their battery for the journey home, hoping they’d prove to be a welcomed distraction.

But when I glanced back up, I found that the group had dispersed somewhat. The girls were now wandering further away, all of them adorning huge smiles as their excited eyes kept trailing back over their shoulders. The guy though, had seemed to sort of vanish. Probably having slipped back into the oncoming traffic of people, I supposed. It was then that I silently scolded myself when I noticed I’d been rubbing the back of my thumb over my teeth again. It was an anxious tick of sorts, one that sometimes left my hands raw, and something my mum wholeheartedly hated.

I smiled slightly at the reminder of her, she’d have started swatting as soon as I’d started up.

Should probably give her a call later, now that I thought about it, maybe on the way home if I still felt like crap. That woman was godawful when it came to talking, could chat about absolutely anything at the best of times, but always knew how to best cheer me up.

“You alright?” Came a sudden voice, startling me from my tangent of thoughts.

I snapped my head over to where a man now stood about a foot away, leaning casually against the same wall, with a cigarette hanging from his lower lip. He seemed ready to light it from the way he was cradling a lighter just by his chin, but had paused once he’d taken note of my presence.

“Uh,” I stumbled, slightly taken aback. I’d not even realised he’d been stood there, nor was I prepared for an actual conversation. “Yeah, you?” I forced out on instinct, confused by the sudden exchange but not bewildered enough to not give that typical greeting its usual half-arsed reply.

The guy hummed as he lit his cigarette, taking a quick drag before he let it hang loosely between his fingertips. My brow furrowed, certain that this was the same bloke I’d just seen, the one who’d suddenly disappeared from his swarm of adoring fans.

“It’s just,” The man begun again, blowing remnants of smoke out the side of his mouth. “You seem a little jumpy, like you’re waiting for something to happen. Wanted to know what I was getting myself into, standing here beside you. Not plotting nothing, are you?”

I choked a little on my next laugh, a bit disbelieving. “And if I was?” I found myself asking before I could think better of it.

As the guy shrugged, his lip curled enough to make his nose twitch. The picture of indifference.

Then he turned to me with a shit-eating grin, “So go on then, who’re you stalking? An old flame, the one who got away… A maths teacher who gave you a crappy mark?”

I quirked a brow.

“Um,” Unable to stop myself from blowing out a quiet chuckle, “None of the above?” Phrasing it like a question.

“How boring.” The guy dragged out, letting his head fall against the brick work, his curls cushioning its landing. He looked at me then, and I could sort of make out where his eyes were from behind the dark shades he was wearing.

I hummed, feigning offence. “That hurts, coming from you- the guy wearing sunglasses on a day without sun.”

His mouth twitched as he took another drag. “It’s London, love. There’s never any sun.”

I shook my head at him and looked away in attempt to hide my smile.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, but he was still stood there so I figured that that had been the end of our short interaction. My anxiety had dulled somewhat but I couldn’t help the way I’d begun to play with the zip of my jacket, eyes scanning the crowds as my mind found a soft rhythm in the metal’s sound.

My attention differed when I heard him move again and glanced over to find him stumping out his fag beneath the heel of his boot. When he met my gaze he held it for a slow second before he said, “Wait here, yeah.”

He wandered off then, too quickly for me to question him or utter a reply to that strange demand, he’d just left me to watch him round the corner.

And so I frowned, staring into the space he’d just occupied, before a huffy laugh slipped out and I found myself shaking my head once again.

Living in London, you met the oddest sorts. Someone asking for something or other as they passed you by, another nutter off their head offering up their life story as you waited for the bus to come. But I’d never really had an exchange like that.

Wait here. I mulled the words over.

With nothing better to do, and not really sensing any immediate danger headed my way, I decided to take perch on the cobbled curb of the side street I’d been lingering on. If I was going to wait, then I’d sit and do so. I couldn’t much be arsed to stand about any longer. My legs were already stiff from standing for ages trying to pluck up enough courage to head into that stupid coffee shop, and the wind had decided then to pick up.

Besides, the guy hadn’t been half-bad to look at, I could see why the girls had grown quite attached.

So it was there that the stranger found me when he returned, lips pursed as he rounded the corner. When he noticed me sat there though his smile widened and he manoeuvred himself quite quickly onto the curb beside me, easily enough that he didn’t upset the cardboard tray he held in one hand and the bag he had in the other.

“Thought you’d wandered off for a second there.” He commented, dropping the bag between his folded legs to pluck a drink from the tray. He then handed the warm cup to me and I seemed to take it on impulse. “Good that you hadn’t though, would’ve gone to waste otherwise.” He added as he gestured with his head towards the steaming cup I now cradled confusedly. He was rummaging around for the bag again before I could even work up the words to question what was happening. He tossed it towards me. “That too.”

“Um…” I said, eyes flitting between the drink, the bag, and the man himself.

“A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.” I heard him say, and finally looked back up to find him wearing an amused but cocky smirk.

“What?”

He gestured at the cup again and I peered down, taking note of the logo which I then realised belonged to small cafe sat beside us.

“This is for me?”

He just stared blankly back at me.

“Why?” I finally questioned, coming to my senses.

“Why not?” He retorted smartly, already sipping at his own drink.

I blinked whilst I tucked a small strand of hair behind my ear, unsure.

“It’s not poisoned.”

With a unhelpful snort I said, “Sounds promising. What is it then?”

“Was gonna grab you a coffee- figure, everyone likes coffee.” He started with an animated shrug. “But you seemed a bit jittery already, so went with tea instead. Oh,” He stopped to pull a couple of tiny pots from his coat pocket and dumped them onto the road between us. “Milk.”

“And if I liked sugar?” I found myself teasing as I opened the plastic lid, pouring in a good amount of milk into the dark brew. I blew at the rim to watch the steam whirl into the air before I took a small sip, my eyes found his, still hidden behind those dark glasses he wore.

“Then I’d tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Fair enough.” I chuckled, liking his bluntness, then held up the cup as I added, “Thank you, though- for this.”

He simply waved me off. As though it was no big deal.

I set the tea down on the pavement beside me for a moment to peer into the bag he’d tossed my way. I tried to bite back a pleased grin when I turned to him. “We’re sharing this, by the way.”

His forehead wrinkled from over his cup.

“Bossy, I like it.” Was what he came out with, before he dipped his chin slightly in discouragement. “But no, you’re all good. Have it.”

I shook my head at him. “Come on, we can split it.” I said, already pulling the sweet treat he’d purchased halfway out of the paper bag.

He quirked a brow. “How? It’s a muffin, just keep it.”

“It’s blueberry though.”

The guy just looked back at me, lost but somewhat curious. “What the fuck does it being blueberry have to do with it?”

“Everything. Blueberry muffins are the best sort.” I shrugged as though the answer had been obvious, pulling at the cake’s top to split it horizontally through the middle. I handed him his half then shook the crumbs off of my jacket sleeve. “I’m taking the top part though, sorry.” I added, already tearing into the dome shaped top.

He adverted his gaze between myself and the cased muffin’s bottom a few times. Almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

I hummed in appreciation at the sweet flavour that coated my tongue before peering back over at him, he seemed to be watching me but I couldn’t be sure.

“What?” I question, feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

“Blueberry. You’re claiming that blueberry is the best of all the muffin flavours. That’s astounding to be frank. I’m actually baffled. I mean, blueberry… Really?”

I merely grinned.

“Really.”

He shook his head, holding his tongue between his front teeth to keep from smiling too.

He kicked a leg out then, sitting his drink on the gravel road to take a taste of the soft treat. He seemed to mull the flavour over a bit before he finally grunted, “It’s alright.”

“Alright? Just alright?” I retorted, almost offended on the muffin’s behalf. “This-“ I held up my segment, “is almost perfect.”

One word seemed to catch his attention though, he cocked a brow. “Almost?”

I hummed, not bothering with a reply as I broke off another chunk and tossed it into my mouth.

His tongue danced over his lower lip and left the topic be. I took the moment to grab my tea again, appreciating the warmth of it in my palms. That’s when I caught the name sharpied onto its side.

I snorted, “What’s with Frankenstein?”

His eyebrows lifted up over the rim of his glasses as he turned to face me, but he seemed to make sense of what I’d meant when he caught me cradling the cup. He laughed but didn’t comment any further.

I couldn’t help my smile by this point, “Come on. What’s your real name then?”

He smirked. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Um, so I can thank you properly?” I suggested, but immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Properly, hm?” He parroted back, that cocky smile of his was back in full beam. “I can think of a hundred different ways you could thank me properly without even needing to know my name.”

His grin only grew wider when he saw the mostly disgusted look plastered on my face. I scoffed playfully.

“I might’ve just been stood on a street corner, but I can promise you now that that’s not happening.”

A sharp bark erupted from him, but it didn’t seem to garner any attention from anyone else, as though we’d created our own little bubble. “I like it. But we’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes but decided to move on. “You’re really not going to give me your name then?”

He acted as though he was mulling it over. “What do I get in return?” He asked with a small jerk of his chin, then seeing my unimpressed stare, he added, “I’m just messing about, darling. How about- you guess it.”

“You’re not being serious.” At his nod, I all but groaned, “How am I supposed to guess your name? Do you know how long we could be sat here?”

He shrugged a shoulder and went in for another bite of the blueberry muffin. “Don’t know, but you’re the one who’s guessing so I’d get started.”

I thinned my lips. “At least give me a clue then.”

He eyed me for a moment, then wiped at his mouth before he ultimately dipped his head. “Alright. But this is your only one, yeah?”

I thought about it briefly then nodded unhappily, it was probably the best offer I was going to get out of him.

He grinned as though he’d won some sort of prize, but before I could snark back he was prattling away again. “Okay. It’s common, I’ll give you that. But that's all you’re getting.”

“Common.” I thought about it as I brought a knee up to my chest to rest my chin against. “So are we talking Bible sort of common, or just British?”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s cheating. Only the one clue, remember.”

I exhaled huffily before chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Jack.” I guessed.

He shook his head.

“John?”

He snorted, “No.”

“James? Jacob!”

“Fuck me, what’s with all the J’s?”

“So it doesn’t start with a J.” I smiled triumphantly but my victory was rapidly swept away when he hit back with, “Never said that.”

Even with his denial, I switched it up a bit and took the time to carefully observe him. He definitely seemed like someone who owned his name. Meaning, that he wasn’t a Tom who looked a lot more like a Harry.

Immediately I removed those two names from the mental list I was rapidly curating, deciding that they didn’t much suit him.

I was almost unaware of myself as I looked at him, taking in the small details he offered to the world. The hollow of his cheeks, the scruff on his chin, the wrinkles dotted around his mouth and hairline. I wished for a moment to see the colour of his eyes then, believing that they might share a few more of his secrets.

“Oli?” I tried, then instantly decided against it, “How about George?”

He shook his head again at the first, and laughed a little harder at the second. I chewed at my lip.

“This is difficult.”

He hummed, obviously finding amusement in my struggle as he sipped at his drink again.

I tapped away at my knee before kicking my leg out in mild frustration, not thinking too hard about the way my boot had lightly nicked his extended leg.

“Um,” I drawled out in dwindling thought. “William, but you keep it short… So, Will?”

“Nope.”

“Christopher?”

“Look, you’re close with the length.” He mentioned.

I grinned at him in complete surprise and he grunted unhappily when the realisation hit him that he’d just offered me up another clue.

“Nicholas? I think you could be a Nick-” I paused, tilting my head one way, then another. “No wait, actually no.” I grimaced at the thought, then sighed. “I have zero clue here.”

“Ah, come on, love. You can’t give up just as you’re getting close.” He encouraged, I pulled a face at him, hating the fact that he was finding this whole charade entertaining.

“Just tell me.” I pleaded.

“Nah.”

“Come on. Why not?”

He shook his head, smiling all the while. “‘Cause.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Taking another aggressive bite out of my muffin, I let my gaze roam over his attire, taking in the dark oversized pilots jacket he had layered over a slightly longer linen shirt, which was a few shades lighter than that of his trousers. The trousers were crumpled from the way he’d chosen to sit but otherwise seemed to fit him well, a beige sort of colour that led straight into a pair of heavy black docs.

A few more names lingered on the tip of my tongue but ultimately I decided on, “Matthew.”

His face perked up upon hearing it and I was celebrating before he could even confirm it for me.

“Fucking dragged that out.” He said with false fatigue, to which I swatted his arm for, but he leant away, chuckling all the while.

When I relented he made a show out of repositioning himself- somewhat closer now than he had originally been, which I vaguely noticed but chose not to comment on. He rubbed at the tip of his nose briefly then, before he finally- finally- tugged off those godawful glasses he wore, making a home for them in his nest of curls.

I quietened down.

Brown. His eyes were brown. And they were bright and earnest and wrinkled by his smile.

I couldn’t not grin right back at him.

“Matthew.” I practically declared, happy to have won.

He shook his head in laughter, “Now, before you go getting ahead of yourself, it’s actually Matty.”

Hm, yeah, that sounded more like him.

“Matty.” I couldn’t help but repeat, somewhat quieter than before.

We shared a look then that seemed to last a century and yet a second. I blinked.

“Am I gonna have to guess yours now? Payback and all that.” Matty queried, and had somehow procured a pack of cigarettes in his hands. He lit one.

“Oo, should I?” I ask, half tempted, and finished off the dregs of my muffin, wiping away what little remained. “Feel like we’d be here all day then.”

Matty offered up the lit cigarette. He’d already taken a slow drag, and I wasn’t much of a smoker, but it had honestly been a day, so I accepted, watching him as I inhaled.

“Is it something cool?” He quizzed, palms splayed out now across the pavement behind us as he relaxed further. I frowned at him, not catching what he meant. “Your name.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I dunno really. Bit uncool to say your name’s cool though, ain’t it?”

“Depends on whether your name’s actually cool or not.” Matty commented, and I couldn’t not laugh as he continued on, “If you’ve got a generic fucking name like- I don’t know- Andy, and think it’s proper cool then that’s just a bit sad. I mean, Andy. Really? How bland can you be? But you come out with something like Megatron, then…” He shrugged, “You’re sort of set for life. Kids will think your sick, and you’d be in there the second you mention it when you’re out trying to pull.”

“I fucking doubt that.”

“Ah, come on! You mean to tell me you wouldn’t shag a bloke called Ezekiel or some crap like that?” Matty demanded, seemingly in disbelief.

“Ezekiel- where the fuck have you just pulled that name from?” I couldn’t not ask.

“Hebrew, ain't it?” Matty brushed over, before continuing on with his argument. I just sat there and listened, chiming in here and there to wind him up further, but was mostly entertained by his take on the topic.

“Fuck!” He all but shouted with a strangled sort of laugh— in the time he’d been ranting, he’d already lit two more cigarettes and downed the last of his coffee. “Why’d you let me ramble on? I was meant to be getting your name!”

I smiled and moved to sit in a more comfortable position, crossing my legs. “You can talk for England, you. Not my fault you don’t know when to shut up.”

Matty didn’t seem to mind the jeering, he snorted as he sidled closer on the curb. “So go on, your name.” He prompted, brown eyes teasing and bright under the afternoon sun.

I rolled my own before letting them stray to the left, up and over to where people still seemed to be bustling past the side street, unaware of us, or just uncaring.

“Y/n.” I relented, turning my head back towards Matty.

He stared long and hard at me for a second, appearing to rest my name between the cusp of his teeth, right there on the tip of his tongue. And then he spoke, “Y/n. Suits you.”

I quirked a brow, “Oh, yeah?”

Matty hummed with a smile. “Yeah. Reckon I could’ve guessed it easily.”

I couldn’t help the god awful snort I released as I shook my head in exasperation, hair brushing against the shoulders of my jacket as it fell forward. “You’re a twat.”

But he didn’t seem to mind it.

#the 1975 #Matty #healy #matty healy #x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #y/n #fluff #imagine #Matty Healy imagine #1975 band #george daniel #the 1975 imagines #fic #drabble

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reorientation · 1 month

Note

i'm a "dyke" but i think about cock from a man so often. in my heart of hearts i know it's what i'm made for. a coworker told me today that i'm very pretty but that i'd be so much prettier if i grew my hair out - that i'd be turning men's heads. and i want that ... when i'm menstruating all i can think about is cock. i even have vaginismus - a severe case of vaginal dryness, making penetration hurt - no matter how horny i am and how sopping wet my cunt is... and i can't stop thinking about a man pushing his way into me regardless. teaching me to bare with it and take it. helping me feel full whilst i give him what i was born to give him... and the next day i want to be passed to his friend and so on ...

There's a post I saw on Reddit once, by a woman with vaginismus - with the title "My pussy makes normal men into rapists". She talked about how the men she dated would start off trying to be gentle with her, asking how they could help, stopping when it hurt - and then over time would start getting frustrated at how often they had to stop, would start seeing her as just getting in the way of them fucking her pussy, would realize that if they didn't ask she wouldn't say no.

You could be an even better rape-maker, you know? You "don't want" to be fucked by men, but wouldn't stop one, and you have an achingly tight pussy that has to be forced if it's going to be used at all. You're practically designed to inspire rape in otherwise normal men.

And that gets you wet, doesn't it? The idea that if you started turning men's heads, one might do the unthinkable to you - just because it's so obvious that you're meant to be used like that. That with a different haircut, you might get a man so frustrated that he forces his cock into you no matter how much you cry.

Try it out. It's the start of spring - don't cut your hair short again before the summer solstice, at the very least. See if men's eyes follow you a little more as your hair gets longer. And let yourself wonder if every little bit of growth makes you look less like a dyke and more like potential pussy for them.

#kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #lgetsd #dykebreaking

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neverinadream · 2 years

Text

Forbidden Fruit Never Tasted So Sweet

Next Part

Summary: To him you were like the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve were sworn off from devouring, but a nibble wouldn't hurt him, right?

Warnings: brief mention of parental loss, 18+, minors dni, a tiny age gap (reader is in their mid twenties), older brother's best friend!daniel, dom!daniel, sub!reader, pet names (baby, princess ect), praise kink, teasing, a little bit of begging, oral (f receiving), fingering, basically porn with minimal plot, a smidge or orgasm denial

Requested: Nope

Notes: yeah...i normally have a general tag list for my work but since this isn't who i normally write for, i'm just gonna tag @enchantedaniel because i feel like beth might like to read this 😅

It wasn't uncommon for you to spend an hour or an entire afternoon in the presence of Daniel, the two of you lazily draped across your couch, your legs dangling over his lap and his hand innocently situated on your lower thigh. Your head was resting against a cushion, your eyes focusing on the screen of your phone and your thumb slowly scrolling through your Instagram feed. It was mostly filled with posts from old high school friends, people you had left behind in Perth when you made the permanent move to London, people who were either getting engaged, who were already married or were having kids. But not you, you liked the freedom the single life was giving you. You had options, even if those options disappointed you nine times out of ten.

The film Daniel had picked played quietly in the background, neither of you actually interested in a film you had both seen countless times. His hand readjust itself on your thigh, the tips of his fingers pressing gently into your exposed skin. You felt there was no need to make an effort to make yourself look presentable to a guy you had known since you were kid; the oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts were a reflection of just how comfortable you felt when you were around him.

"That's new," Daniel's voice cuts through the silence you had both been sitting in. The tip of his finger playfully jabs at the tattoo placed on the your thigh, the end of the ink just peaking out from under your shorts. It wasn't anything spectacular, not like the ones that littered his own thigh, more of cliché when it came to the type of tattoos you saw on others. The black ink took the shape and form of flowers, your mum's favourite flowers to be exact, that started just above your hip and trailed down over the top of your thigh.

"It's nothing," you play it off, lock your phone and lying it face down on your chest, "just something for mum."

He doesn't stop the snort of laughter that quickly escapes. "You got a tattoo for the woman who was so adamantly against them?" You roll your eyes, jabbing his inner thigh with your toe. "Come on, it's a little funny, right?" His phone buzzes in his hand, the little notification ping filling the temporary silence as he waited for you to answer his question. "I remember Calum telling me your mum was prepared to beat you with the slippers on her own two feet when she found out about the first tattoo you got."

Now you could laugh at the memory of your mother's red face and the disappointment that clung to every word she said but, back then, you were terrified she might've actually acted on her words. Tattoos and piercings were forbidden, damaging a perfectly beautiful body, she would tell you, but you had just turned eighteen and you wanted to enter your newly found adult life with a big bang. And a big bang it would've been if she had clipped your around the ear with her slipper.

"It's not like she can actually be here to protest against it," you finally answer, giving him half a smile. Humour, whether other people found it funny or not, was the best way you coped with your mum's passing. "Anyway," you quickly attempt to change the subject, "you're mister popular today." His phone pings as the words leave your lips.

"I'm always mister popular, baby," he cheekily grins, still ignoring his phone, "the ladies love me."

"Oh, you refer to your hand as a lady, huh?" You quip, your legs remaining over his as you sit yourself up. Daniel rolls his eyes, letting the comment slide. It wasn't the first time you had made a joke about his hand being more popular to him than the actual company of a woman and he knew it wouldn't be the last. "Or have you upgraded from your hand and got yourself a little toy?" His fingers pinch playfully at your thigh, both of you laughing at the repetitive joke.

"Come on," you bat your eyelids and hold out your hand, "show me what we're working with."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "We're working with?"

"Uh-huh, you heard me."

It wouldn't have been the first time that Daniel had given you a glimpse at who he was talking to. On occasions, he had asked for your opinion on them, trusting that you would give him an answer that was one hundred per cent honest. He thought you had this weird ability to know a persons character just from a picture and most of the time you were right. If you thought they were conceited, they ended up being conceited. if you thought they were only after the benefits of being spotted with one of the top F1 drivers in the world, then nine times out of ten you were correct.

With a sigh, he handed over his phone, letting you look through the text messages exchanged between him and a girl called Isabel. "She's cute," you note, scrolling across a photo she had sent him, "but your ability to flirt is not." You flash him the screen of his phone, a quick giggle spilling from your lips as you watch the deep shade of embarrassment creep up from the base of his neck and onto his cheeks. "Stop taking flirting lessons from my brother," she hands him back his phone.

He looked offended. "What's wrong with my flirting?"

"Everything."

He scoffs. "My ability to flirt is perfectly fine, thank you," he slips his phone into his pocket, twisting to rest his arm on the back of the couch, "though I can't say the same for you. When was the last time you had a boyfriend?"

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?" You fire back, knowing none of the recent women Daniel had spoken to had ever gotten past a first date. He always gave you the same excuse - they just weren't who he was looking for. But if you were to ask him what he was looking for, Daniel would just shrug his shoulders, mumbling something about he would know it when he saw it. "Will this one get a second date?" You ask, curious to know if he had found what he was looking for yet.

Daniel shook his head.

"Let me guess," you poke fun at him, digging your finger softly into his side, "she wasn't what you were looking for?" He smiles at the soft laugh that escapes past your lips, the reaction to you involuntarily but almost natural. "Surely, you must have an idea of who you could see yourself with?" You ask, removing your legs from his lap and stretching them out in front of you. Your legs were just long enough for your ankles to rest on the edge of the glass coffee table.

He only knew of one person he could see himself with. You. But you were his best friend's little sister, forbidden to him in every thinkable scenario. "There is someone," he admits to you, casually shrugging his shoulders, "but she's kind of forbidden to me."

Daniel had begun to notice the change a few years ago, after you tug along with your brother to one of the races, he couldn't remember which one. He hadn't seen you in some time, just hearing snippets of what you were doing from his mum any time she got an update from your own mum. You weren't just Calum's little sister anymore, in his eyes, you were a beautiful woman, who left him smiling when he heard you laughing and left him feeling a strong sense of pride when he was the one responsible for making you laugh.

Striking up a friendship was the closest to any relationship he knew he could have with you without facing some sort of backlash from your brother.

"Forbidden, huh?" You raise your eyebrows, intrigued, to say the least. "How forbidden are we talking? Are we talking Romeo and Juliet kind of forbidden? Or worse?"

"What can be worse than Romeo and Juliet?" Daniel asks, tilting his head as he glances across at you. "They die at the end," he reminds you, "what could be worse than that?" He shakes his head as you shrug your shoulders, a soft chuckle forming in the back of his throat. You watch his fingers scoop through his curls, giving them a gentle tug and fixing them. "She's a friend's sister," Daniel tells you, without giving away too much.

"Oh." Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip, shifting a little in your seat. "A friend from back home or..." Your voice trails off at the end, watching Daniel nod his head from the corner of your eyes. You weren't sure of how many of his friends back in Perth had a younger sister, but whoever she was was lucky to be the subject of his desires. There had been a time when you would've killed to have been the subject of Daniel's desires - him being the forbidden crush you had throughout your teenage years. "Lucky her, I guess," you mumble, your feet dropping to the floor with a soft thud against the soft carpet.

Daniel had watched the wave of emotions that appeared and quickly disappeared from your face, your full expression sinking when he nodded yes to it being the younger sister of a friend back home. He thought it was sadness he saw at first but then he started to second guess himself, thinking maybe - quite possibly - that you were jealous, which to him was funny because you would only be jealous of yourself.

"Yeah," he mumbles, running his hand against his jaw and scratching at his beard, "I think Calum would run me over with my own car if he knew all the things I wanted to do to his sister." Your head whips to the side, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, swallowing the laugh that wanted to burst out. "What?" He asks innocently, taking his arm off the back of the couch, his hand brushing against your arm as it drops into his lap. "You thought I was talking about someone else?"

Your legs are wrapped tightly around Daniel's waist, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips never leaving each other's as he moved you both into your bedroom. His hands left the small of your back, sliding around to rest on your hips, lying you down on your bed. Neither of you wanted to stop kissing the other, desperate to drown in each other's feverish touches but unfortunately, you couldn't survive on his kisses alone.

"You taste like cherries," Daniel notes, referring to the cherry lip balm you had on. His grin is wide, all of his pearly whites showing as he gazes down at you. This was a dream, he told himself, there was no way this was actually happening. "I'm dreaming right now, aren't I?" His hand leaves your hip, skimming up the length of your side and tracing his finger along your jaw. It stops once it reaches your chin, hooking itself under it. "This is all a dream."

"I can pinch you if you like?" You wink, biting your bottom lip.

His thumb delicately pries your bottom lip out, caressing and soothing the bite marks with the pad. "You don't have to do anything, princess," his voice is raspy but there's still a hint of softness to it, "just let me take care of you, okay?" Daniel cups your face, his thumb moving in soft strokes against your cheek. "This okay, yes?" He wasn't going to do anything if you weren't okay with it. You nod your head. "Your words, baby," he encourages, "use them for me."

Once again, you nod your head, finally finding your voice. "Yes," it's almost like a whisper, "yes, I want this." Your hands release his hair, bringing them down against the scruff of his beard, the rough facial hair scratching at the palm of your hands. "I want this," you repeat yourself, more confident in your delivery, "I want you."

Those three words were enough turn him rock hard; he'd imagined you saying those words in so many different scenarios, the image of you burned into the back of his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut and sought pleasure in the form of his hand curled tightly around himself.

"Say it again," Daniel orders, the command soft as it flows off his lips. He wanted to hear you say it one more time. No. He needed to hear you say it. "Baby, I need you to say it one more time," he didn't care if he sounded whiney as he begged you to say it. You draw him in closer, you hands still cradling his face. His breath hitched in his throat, the feeling of your lips ghosting over his, just close enough to feel your breath but not close enough to kiss you. "Please, baby," he was spiraling, his voice just a little bit higher than normal, "please, say it again."

"I...Want..." You purposely made the final pause just a second more longer, a growing heat forming between your thighs knowing just three simple words were driving him crazy. The corners of your mouth tugged upwards, the smirk you now bore teasing him. "...You."

He swallows your whimpers into his mouth, slotting his lips over yours and hypnotising you with a slow, sensual kiss. He kissed you like you were the last bit of oxygen left in the room, savouring every last bit of it. Your head rolls back into the mattress, whimpering at the feeling of his mouth on your jaw and neck, and squeezing at his shoulder as he leaves his personal, temporary tattoo on the base of your neck.

The ache between your legs had become harder to ignore, the brushing of the rough denim of his jean covered crotch brushing against the thin cotton shorts you wore making it unbearable to wait. You were desperate to feel his touch; it didn't matter if it was his fingers slipping through your slick folds or his mouth clasped around your sweet centre, you just needed to feel something.

"Daniel," his name falls off your lips in the form of a whimper, "I need you."

"Patience, princess," Daniel replies, his voice raspy and confident in your ear. His bottom lip drags against the shell of your ear, the cheeky grin felt against it as he continues to talk into your ear. "How long have you wanted me to do this?" He asks, chuckling into your ear when you whimper, his denim-clad crotch pressing against your own, giving just the slightest bit of friction. Your hips buck into him, chasing after more. "Tell me," he instructs, gripping your hip and pushing it into the mattress, stopping you from moving, "tell me and I'll reward you."

He was teasing you and you hated to be teased.

"Daniel, please-" His fingers hook under your chin, his touching catching you off guard and bringing you to a stop. His dark eyes poured into yours, flecks of gold emphasised as the sun, drifting in through your bedroom window, catches them. "Too long," you finally answer his question, your cheeks warmer than the rest of your face, "far too fuckin' long."

You watched him sit up and swiftly remove his shirt, purposely flexing his chest when he catches you looking. Sitting up, your hand reaches out and brushes the tips of your fingers over his toned abdomen. Everything about him was perfect like his body had been shaped, moulded and chiselled away at until he had the finished product in front of you. You left a chaste kiss against his warm skin before lifting your head up to gaze into his eyes.

"Can I take this off?" He asks, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt. You nod your head, lifting your arms as he removes your shirt. He lies you back down, his lips find your collar bone and pressing soft kisses to them. Your body muffles a hum of contentment as you push your fingers through his curls, involuntarily giving them a soft tug. "So beautiful," he mumbles a compliment, his fingers skimming over the top of the black bralette you wore. The lace material was thin and your nipples strained against it after he ran the pad of his thumb over them a couple of times. "So fuckin' beautiful," he repeats, adding an emphasis to his words.

His head dips into the valley of your breasts, leaving light kisses against your skin and stopping just above your navel. Your eyes catch as he glances back up at you, making your heart race inside your chest. The cotton shorts are removed, after he asked to remove them, both of you are unable to stop a quick shrill of laughter as you answer him a little too over-enthusiastically. You don't check to see where they are thrown, too lost in your own thoughts as you feel his lips kiss each of your hips.

"You like to tease people, don't you?" You ask, eyes falling shut just as you think he is about to trace his finger against the black lace barrier that were your panties. They open again when the weight on the bed shifts, opening them to find Daniel hovering over you. His lips kiss the underside of your jaw, your chin and then your lips. "I don't like to be teased," you mumble against him.

Daniel grins, fingers stroking at your side. "That's because you haven't been teased by me before."

Soft whimpers, mixed with words of praise and encouragement, fill the air. Your head rolls back into the pillow beneath you, your back arching away from the bed as you chase after another fleeting moment of bliss. One of Daniel's hands remained on your thigh, holding your leg over his shoulder; the other holds onto your chest, his long fingers softly caressing your breast. "Please, don't stop," you beg, detangling your fingers from his curls. Each knuckle stuck out from beneath your skin as you grabbed at your sheets, your body teetering on the edge and waiting to be told to let go.

His tongue continued to lap at your sweet centre, his nose nudging at your clit each time he moved. To him, you were sweeter than honey - you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted - and it drove him crazy to taste it all. He detached his mouth, licking at his lips and chuckling when you vocally protest his disruption to your almost high. "Patience, princess," he had been saying that a lot this afternoon, always coming after he had deliberately prolonged your orgasm.

"Please, Daniel," you push up onto your elbows, body feeling a little weak from repeatedly teetering on the edge and the ripped back.

He lets your leg down off his shoulder, wedging his body between your legs as he sought out your lips. Grinning against you, his tongue made its home inside your mouth, skimming against your own. "Admit it," he murmurs against your lips, "you like it when I tease you this way."

You shake your head. "I'd like it if you let me cum."

"What?" Daniel mocks your pout. "Twice isn't already enough?" He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he sneaks two fingers inside you. They slip in with ease, Daniel working you up to state you hadn't been in in a very long time. His thumb brushes against your clit, the little nub swollen beneath the pad, increasing the soft mewls of pleasure that tumble off your lips. "Do you want me to make you cum again, mmh?" He asks, eyes flicking momentarily down to your chest, watching as it heaved up and down. "Is that what my baby wants?"

"Yes," you give him a one worded answer.

"Yes?" He narrows his eyes. "Yes...what?"

"Yes, please."

He kisses the corner of your mouth, "good girl." The simple act of praise leaves your body shivering and he knows it. A soft chuckle tumbles from his grin, listening to you gasping his name as his fingers curl inside you. "You take my fingers so well, pretty girl," he acknowledges, applying more pressure with his thumb. Your lips catch his, mewling a string of profanities against them. "My pretty girl," he calls you, curling his fingers once more to reach that spot that left your thighs quaking.

Your third orgasm hit harder than the last two, the breath being temporarily squashed from your lungs and your whole body tensing beneath him. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, kissing the spot just below on your neck. Eventually, his fingers stopped moving, just his thumb brushing soft circles against your clit to bring you out of the clouds of bliss and back to reality. A reality that had Daniel's brows frowning; you followed his eyes, seeing he was looking at the clock on your bedside cabinet.

"What's the matter?" You push yourself back up onto your elbows, searching his eyes for answer. You reach up and touch his face. "Daniel?"

"I-" He clears his throat, vacating himself from between your legs. "I didn't realise the time," he doesn't look at you as he searches for his shirt, pulling it over his head. The bed dips as he kneels on the edge, leaning over you to place a haste kiss upon your lips. "I have a thing-"

"A thing?" You cut him off.

"A work thing," he corrects himself, stroking your hair from out your face, "that I'm definitely going to be late for because I got a little too carried away with you." He sweetly laughs at your flushed cheeks, kissing each of them. "Finish this later?" He hoped you would say yes.

You place your finger against your chin, pretending to think. After a second, you shake your head, a twinkle of wickedness in your eyes. "I have a thing," you echo his words, "not a work thing, but it's still a thing." There was no thing, but Daniel had said it himself, you were forbidden to him; you couldn't just let him have it all in one go. Where would the fun be in that?

"You're funny," Daniel utters, half rolling his eyes.

"A comedic genius, some might say."

His fingers brush down your neck, delicately skimming over the hickey at the base of your neck. Your skin was soft and warm and tempted him to forget about his meeting and climb back onto the bed with you. "When?" He asks, finally speaking again. "When can I see you again?"

"I'm not the one with the hectic schedule," you answer, impossible to know when you both would get a few hours together again. Shifting onto your knees, you cradle his jaw in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Soon," you tell him, sitting back on your heels, "now go, before you're extremely late for your thing."

Daniel nods his head, stealing one last kiss and leaving you in your apartment alone.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader

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callsignfangs · 27 days

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I know you have something to say about Farah.

Do it.

You know you want to. 😊😉

You lot know me so well 💔💔

Giggles but actually, I’m sorry for randomly vanishing, long story short ive been dealing w some personal stuff and been hesitant to start posting again bc it might be a bit on n off lol. But most things have chilled out a little bit, so i might dip my head back into writing 😇

Also, bc of my amazing luck, I literally got sick, like, today. Sooo, have my fever-induced Farah rambles 😻 Brought to you by. Idk probably the flu or something 💪

Note: the fact i managed to dump this all out in one session before napping is a lil funny ngl 😇

Double note: I acc had a different plan for this, but the sickness has unfortunately taken me, and I’m just going with the flow atp 😇 prepare for more of my Farah braindumps after i’m mildly more alive 😚

Farah & Sick!reader drabble 😚

(Tws: vague sickness, fever 👍)

Lets start this off with the simple fact that- she’s the queen of home remedies. You could pick up some degenerative alien disease from a far off solar system, and she probably has something for it. Mot to mention that she’s pretty good at making said remedies notably more appealing, which definitely doesn’t hurt. Sure, she won’t shy away from medicating you, more than prepared to deal with your slightly high shenanigans, but it’s definitely nice to not be drugged up instantly.

She’s also absolutely attached to you at the hip. It’s like she’s given herself the job of your personal nurse, or something. Of course, she’s doing what’s best for you, but she folds just a little at the sight of your soft, weepy eyes.

Admittedly, she’s not the best cook on the planet. She has more important responsibilities than learning to cook. However, for you? She digs up every family recipe she could find, probably digging up an old scrapbook or two of her grandparent’s meanwhile. She’s determined to shower you in gourmet-level food as much as humanly possible, even if that means constantly ducking out of the kitchen to check on you, cuddled up on the couch.

Speaking of cuddles, she’s an absolute cuddle monster. The second you’ll let her, she’s buried alongside you, her gentle warmth dissolving into tour achy muscles, your pounding head showered in soft little kisses - even a couple on the lips, if she can sneak them, because, no, love, she doesn’t care about getting sick, she’ll live.

And, of course, she’ll insist on a nice bath with you, seeing as she just wants to see you better, sweetheart. Her getting to snuggle up with you in the tub is definitely just a happy coincidence.

Bathing with Farah is absolutely heavenly. She fills up the tub herself, happily murmuring pleasant little anecdotes and warm comforts into your ears as lukewarm water splashes around behind you. Gently helping you out of your pyjamas (well, her pyjamas, that were practically yours at this point), she dips her foot into the water, feeling the coolish liquid cover her feet. She slowly eases you in, a slight guilt pooling in her heart as you whine about just how cold the water felt. She keeps you buried in her arms throughout, kissing your cheeks and praising you sweetly, even letting you tuck your face against her shoulder.

Once you’re actually in, the bath is a near-perfect affair. Farah keeps you against her chest the entire time, happily kneading at your pained muscles, letting the water wash away the sweat staining your skin. She guides you down softly, supporting your neck with a gentle, rough hand as she dips your hair into the water, letting it wash away the tightness behind your eyes as best it could, easily tasking herself with washing your hair. It’s like she turns into your personal masseuse, looping a leg around your hips to keep you safely tucked against her, stroking delicately through the soft strands of your hair, loving hands brushing against their perfect spot on your scalp, leaving your muscles at a similar consistency to the water you were surrounded by.

She takes to washing your hair easily, lathering each product in her hands and warmly rubbing them in, pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead between each one (her face occasionally scrunches as the misplaced product stains her mouth, but it’s worth it to see the little contented smile against your lips).

Thankfully, she doesn’t shy away from care elsewhere, either. She easily lathers each skincare product against your prone form, adjusting you gently against her arms to completely cover every inch of your sweet, delicate skin. Of course, each touch is punctuated with a little massage, hoping to soothe each and every inch of your sickly form, along with her fair share of kisses.

Unsurprisingly, getting out of the tub felt like hell. Sure, the water was mildly cold, but you’d adjusted to it, at this point, lazing easily against Farah’s warmth like a cat in the sun. You definitely felt like a wet cat as she eased you up, shivers immediately picking up the second your skin was exposed to the icy-seeming air. A snug, fluffy towel was wrapped around you almost immediately, with Farah swiftly reaching out to crank the heating up - just enough to keep the temperature difference from making your sickness worse.

Farah was quick to herd you into the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and exchanging the, now damp, towel for a cosy robe she’d bought a while ago, surprisingly still unused.

And, before you could even consider protesting, she was crouched between your legs, gently towelling down the damp skin. She slowly made her way up, from your feet all the way up to your hair, occasionally popping to and from the bathroom, finishing off your skin and hair care.

By the time she’d finished, you were cuddled up in another - notably lighter - pair of her pyjamas, buried safely on her side of the bed, her honeyed scent filling your senses. Your head was pillowed against her chest, eyes trained vaguely before you as she flicked through her movie catalogue, looking for something peaceful yet entertaining.

Eventually, after her careful deliberation, she decides on some lighthearted romcom. It doesn’t particularly matter at this point, though, seeing as you’d conked out before the opening credits had even begun, your soft, purring snores filling the room and bringing a loving smile to her face. Looking after you so delicately had been amazing, but she was absolutely relieved you were finally getting the sleep your body so desperately needed.

Sighing happily, she lays the two of you down, snuggling beneath the covers and kissing you goodnight, easily falling into slumber in her favourite place - cuddled up beside you.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #cod fandom #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #farah karim #cod fic #cod mwii #fangs drabbles #sickness #sickfic #sorta #idk anymore #going feral #just a little #😚#shes so hozier coded dont even #shes literally hozier himself

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metalhealth-willdriveyoumad · 25 days

Text

To get kinda personal for a sec, I forgot how surreal splitting can get especially for the long ones. The short ones that weren’t caused by something immediately bad/traumatic for us have always been *oh something’s wrong* *blurry blurry blurry* *intensifies by 100* *mental flash of white* *oh hi rockstar #37* and that’s kind of it

But with the long ones, there’s a whole range of things that you either don’t experience or speedrun through when they’re quick so the feeling doesn’t stay with you after the fact. Like, I can just be sitting there and just feel like I have someone else’s facial features. Not like the face attached to my body isn’t mine, but like the nose that is definitely mine and attached to my face is a completely different looking nose, or eyes or whatever.

Or, having fluctuating control of different body parts (which is odd enough with just other frontera because we don’t have full possessive switches all that often). This is still kind of happening. Right now I can move my right hand fine, but it feels kinda syrupy like it’s been asleep and it keeps defaulting to a position like I’m about to play piano. Last night I had almost no control over two fingers, and a little bit ago I just couldn’t do anything while it had what looked like a tic attack (that I know wasn’t one). I wrote half this post so far with just one hand, which is a pain and a half. (I took it off the phone for a second and it started again for a second). The whole process feels like it’s staring with the left now which is fun.

I’ve also spent most of today and the end of last night listening to the same album on loop. It’s something I’ve done completely by myself and it’s an album I would do that with, but it feels way different. I’ve switched to something else by a different artist to maybe help get someone else out so I at least don’t have to do this solo, and I’m actually having jitters (physically shaking) and I can only assume it’s because of that.

Honestly, I don’t even know how long this thing’s been going on. Because a while back, I remember getting a vague feeling of a half-formed someone new here (two someone’s, actually) and getting the kinda spacey feeling, and then they both went away and I haven’t seen them since. But now this is happening and I’m getting flashes of them again, so I get the feeling it turned into a three part split instead of two. Because that would help explain why this is hitting so hard.

The big positive I can find for this at the moment is that it would absolutely explain why I’ve had such a hard time grounding in the innerworld or getting anyone else solidly out front, with or without me. That’s it. That’s the bright side. My thumbs are fighting with me and my head hurts. The headcount getting higher doesn’t bother me, it never really has (perks of not being the original host, I guess), I’m just so tired of the active part of splitting. If someone could just give me a button to make this whole thing go faster, that would be great.

#Jabari #original #long #mental illness #mental health #actually mentally ill #actually did #actuallydid #actuallypolyfragmented #actually polyfrag #It also probably explains how singular and obsessive I was getting last night #Especially since it wasn’t a built like normal #It just took over

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lampadarietto · 6 months

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hi!!1! i hope u are feeling good today ^w^ just a disclaimer before the actual request, can u give (space) after symbols? like:

i eat dog food today!it isnt so good, ngl ❌

i eat dog food today! it isnt so good, ngl ✅

u dont need to keep up w doing that, but i ask at least in my request. i have some reading difficulty so the space between the letter and the symbol makes reading easier to me. thanks!!1!

anyway- i wanted to ask for a platonic tadc one. jax, caine, ragatha, gangle, zooble, pomni and kinger x teen reader (im not sure if u are used to making multiple in one post, but u can choose just one or somes if u are struggling :3), the reader have a personality similar to a eeve, if u know what i mean. shes kind and caring, a bit energetic and fun-loving, she protects the other characters and give them some weird things she finds around, she smiles a lot and i imagine one trait of her appearance, it being she having a cardboard box in her head that shows her facial expressions by emoticons, like ">w<" and ":0" (u dont need to add that, i just thought its a fun concept to write about). bUT in the other hand... shes not so sweet. she is chaotic and not much as jax but she loves to tease others (like playfully fighting or being playfully mean but never crossing a boundary by doing so), shes stubborn to do things she dosent want to do and shes lazy, she is bold w her feelings and she have a bit of a short temper to some topics (even tho she dosent physically hurt anyone, she does create a beef w them and is sure to show it, by dirty looks and being passive agressive)

anyway, i dont think i have further ideas. so have fun!!1! u can deny this request if u want. its totally ok ^_^

Omg sorry about the symbol thing!!!

Also this is probably my fav request so far because im a big sucker for platonic requests so thank you!

this took like 3-4 hours to write help

₊ ⊹JAX

✰If you like pranking people, you're surely going to ask Jax for help.

✰he's like the pranking master there, just ask and he'll help you!!

✰definitely bullies you at first, kinda depends on how you look and act. Also endlessly bullies you because you're really young. Would not care that you're a 'teen', you're still a little child in his eyes.

✰You're short? im sure you won't mind if Jax puts his arm on your head!

✰Tall?? like, taller than Jax?? Hes gonna kick you behind the knee so you're shorter! (be ALWAYS on guard because this guy kicks hard even when he doesn't mean it)

✰You're like, happy all the time?? He would try to make you sad (as a joke)

✰If you're small, he IS going to throw you at things and maybe people too in certain occasions.

✰If you're arguing with someone, he just roots for you on default. He doesn't even care what it is about or with who you're arguing with, he's gonna trip the person you're arguing with either way (unless it's caine, that dude floats)

✰If you have a cardboard box as your head, he's surely drawing on it or putting stickers on it. Everyone would do that, sure. But his stickers are either offensive or just ugly (will act as if you stabbed him with a fork if you remove them)

✰If you've got long hair (or hair that you can tie up) he'd go like "let me tie your hair, it looks ugly" and pull on it as hard as he can (ultimately making you fall)

✰teaches you comebacks so you don't look like a 'loser' while arguing with someone (please don't use his comebacks they are really bad)

✰might let you see where he puts his keys to various places (like rooms and stuff, yours included somehow) but dont tell anyone or he's going to kick you into the sun

✰Personally, i give rocks i think are pretty to the people i care about. I draw a face on them, and bam here's the gift. If you do that too, but maybe with other objects, Jax is probably going to hit you with it atleast once (not too hard though)

✰If you tend to give lots of gift he's probably going to need a little corner of his room called 'gifts from ___'

✰Some gloinks came into his room once and stole some of the gifts from that corner. Jax never told you (he forgot to..)

✰Steals your food at the dinner table while bullying Gangle because he has nothing better to do

✰If you're in time out for any reason (like swearing too much) he's going to get you out of the punishment (he always fails bruh)

✰The only reason why he fails is that he's bad at coming up with an excuse because it's to get YOU out of trouble. It's easy when he's trying to get himself out of trouble and comes naturally, but it just doesn't with other people.

✰overall really annoying if he actually enjoys spending time with you, would recommend unless you're really irritable

₊ ⊹ZOOBLE

✰Zooble is really chill, they may even become your 'gossip buddie' if you'd like.

✰The fact that you're younger than them makes it easier (for them, at least.) since you can learn alot from them!

✰Pulls up to your door, rings the doorbell and when you open she goes "i HAVE to tell you about-" and just enters your room while he speaks(unless you don't want to, of course)

✰if you have a cardboard box head, they surely wrote 'zooble' on your carboard box and some insults somewhere (mainly for Jax)

✰laughs ALOT when you tease or straight up pick on people (especially Jax)

✰If you see one of his parts not in the place it's supposed to be, please put it in it's respective place! If you've become friends with zooble, they will surely trust you with things like putting back a body part if she doesn't notice it's in the wrong place!!

✰If you swear a lot, they'll probably laugh until Caine puts you in timeout (that's when she knows she's next)

✰If you ask nicely, they will try to find some (digital) nail polish and let you paint their nails (or them painting your nails, they don't mind either way.)

✰Almost chopped some of your hair off once while trying to do a cute hair style (the crab hand thing is really sharp. They didnt mean it!!!!)

✰flips you off on daily basis for random reasons and roll their eyes in the sassiest way possible

✰If you give them gifts, they'll act as if it's horrible but store it in his room later (he's NEVER telling you that)

✰Is grateful when you (try to) protect them from gloinks. Everytime Zooble is around, some gloinks are already there to just steal her body parts! Help her, do something please!

✰Overall very chill, would recommend unless you get offended easily

₊ ⊹CAINE

✰oh boy!!

✰the circus is a place for children. Finally a child or someone close to one!!!!

✰He's very excited. Makes you and the others (Zooble doesn't usually come though) go have adventures! you even got to choose once!!!

✰Again, if you wear a carboard box head he will sign it like hes a celebrity and write a something next to his signing. (his handwriting is really elegant too!)

✰Once made you look after Bubble while he was dealing with... some things and the whole circus was almost set on fire (all thanks to jax trying to see if Bubbles were flammable)

✰If you swear too much, you'll have to go in timeout!!!! (Zooble goes in timeout often)

✰Stores every single one of your gifts even if Jax says they're ugly

✰𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘚 your energy and attitude!

✰Very happy to see you enjoy your time here with the others.

✰If you're a picky eater or dont like the (digital) food chef Bubble cooks, hes surely going to make Bubble cook something of your choice!!

✰If you entered the circus when you were 10 years old or less, you probably had a bedtime before turning 12. If you were up past your bedtime, you were usually put in timeout!

✰Finds it funny that you tease people.

✰Overall much of a father figure if you've entered the circus when you were really young. (like from 7-11 years old)

₊ ⊹POMNI

✰Pomni was NOT expecting to find a kid in the circus.

✰Why aren't you trying to find a way out? You're young, get out of here and live a happy life!!

✰Other than than, Pomni is very shy and awkward at first.

✰She's not.. sure on what to say. To you, to everyone.

✰She's still trying to find a way out so she won't talk to you or anyone at first.

✰After some time, you speak more and more to her until she gets comfortable with you.

✰She chuckles when you tease people, sometimes.

✰will draw on your cardboard box head if you have on and write her name on it.

✰She often talks to you about the exit door, about the real world.

✰"Don't you want to go back?" she literally bombards you with questions of all kind..

✰Try to be friendly with her, please! She's still trying to get used to the circus and it's weird individuals... (ahem.Jax.)

✰i just KNOW that Jax tripped Pomni atleast once. Please don't let that happend..

✰(tries to) Keeps your gifts somewhere in her room, often loses some..

✰Overall really nice when you get to know her. Stutters alot when shes nervous and is still shocked.

₊ ⊹RAGATHA

✰a kid?? here?? Oh my.

✰She WILL tell you about everything you should know.

✰"Oh, be careful or you might-" "This is where we usually-" "don't! Its dangerous!"

✰She tries her best.

✰Shes always there for you! She tries to get you involved in activities, adventures and everything!

✰Writes a happy phrase on your cardboard box (if you have one) so that you're happy, even when not feeling like your best.

✰loves your gifts! Is a little weirded out at first but loves them alot! She keeps them in her room like trophys.

✰Will make your hair look very cute if you let her touch it. She will put bows, ribbons, every cute thing that she think might fit you.

✰Loves to have someone as nice as her (for the most part) and is glad that she's not the only one with a 'cheerful' attitude at the circus.

✰You can protect her if you want but be careful for random sharp things! Ragatha will be mad(not at you) if you accidentally get hurt while you try to protect her..

✰Shes honestly like a mother figure or an older figure you can count on.

✰Overall the nicest person at the circus, would recommend

₊ ⊹KINGER

✰He jumpscared you once.

✰Apologized right after, of course!

✰Kinger is a rather.. paranoid person. He doesn't get out of his impenetrable fortress unless someone needs him, and gets starled easily.

✰At first, he wasn't sure on what to think about you.

✰When you decided to gift him a little handmade insect collection, he immediately thanks you and invites you into his fortress.

✰You two had fun, and he said you could come in his fortress at any time, but to just warn him beforehand.

✰Stores every gift you give him. Could be an insect collection, rocks or handmade stuff. He doesn't care. He collects them.

✰He still jumpscares you (accidentaly) most of the times. He doesn't mean it!

✰He's super convinced that 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞 would've 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 you.

✰He wishes she was still here, just to show you off.

✰Would get amused when you tease people!

✰Please dont let the gloinks just steal his fortress!!!!

✰Overall pretty chill aside from the sudden jumpscares and random screams, would recommend

₊ ⊹GANGLE

✰would warm up to you pretty quickly.

✰Please comfort her when shes crying or when Jax breaks her comedy mask!!! :(

✰Almost always has her comedy mask when she's with you. Shes just so happy!

✰If you try to help her fix her mask, shes going to be really grateful.

✰Stores every one of your gifts.she Thinks they're beautiful!

✰Please teach her some comebacks so that shes not completely hopeless against Jax :(

✰Shes mostly kind to you, but Gangle is also a shy soul.

✰She's like a bigger sister to you.

✰She tries her best to be as happy as she can around you.

✰Overall really nice (but shy), would totally recommend unless you dont like people crying alot

#the amazing digital circus #x reader #tadc zooble #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc caine #tadc gangle #tadc ragatha

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