#fuck sooooo much anxiety

[monstersandmaw]

Ahh I love lying awake at 2am with a pounding heartbeat and raging, free-flowing anxiety. Said no one ever.

#fuck sooooo much anxiety #anxiety #mental health #non monster post #personal post #edit that to 4am now… guess I’m not sleeping tonight

[hotgirlcoded]

when people don't say good morning back to me it makes me want to grab them by their shirt collars and slap them twice 😑

#do you know what it takes for someone with sooooo much anxiety to say that #go fuck yourself #is what i should start saying #lisa.txt

[bunnyb34r]

Was honestly suprised I still had a section when I came back to work 😅 most of it was recovered to some degree (not GREAT but it wasnt a complete trainwreck)

All the clearance babyclothes sold which was funny bc I packed that shit as full as I could

Ofc now EVERYTHING is liquidated (but not the stupid long sleeve shirts 🤔 all the jeans are but not the shirts...) but the liquidation lady is very nice and I know she doesnt mind me taking my time with it (though I probably can do it in one go)

Nike Shitë is moved to clearance even though it ISN'T but I'm low enough that I'd rather dump it there and pray sgshdhdh

And I looked up the layout bc I forgot what my second item on the endcap is supposed to be (i think it's boys tees but well we'll see if I get to it/have enough bc what I currently have on there is at inventory of 800+ and the boys shirts are like 150? 200? Not enough for an endcap sgdgdgdgd) and I was like well that's new... they have it laid out where each table length is supposed to be a certain item/type and 👀 but also 😬 bc in order to do that we have to move allll my shit for new tables

Anyway I brought it up to Bootleg FGM and he was like huh... that's the first I'm hearing of this/seeing it... yeah don't worry ab it. As long as the flow of your items (like how I group types) is fine, dont worry ab it sgdgdgdg like mkay gonna toss ya under the bus if I get yelled at for it 👋😊

Anyway ANYWAY ofc my anxiety blew it all out of proportion and it was a normal Monday sgdgdggd thank God

#marquilla #my anxiety had me like 'your table stock will be sooooo low and youre gonna get yelled at. theres gonna be nothing there. theyre gonna fire #you.' ect but that's anxiety for ya im fucking exhausted though but part of that is also not getting more than 4 hours... 😬 but thats #normal night before going back to work day. like on my days off i dont go to bed til 11 bc i dont want my day off to end sgdgdg #but last night i was furiously crafting all the stupid egg day crafts in acnh bc i had so much shit and wanted the prize but sgdggd not a #good plan to do at bedtime 😅 took longer than i thought

[running-in-the-dark]

my (virtual) meeting with my thesis advisor is in... 7 hours. I'm sort of almost finished writing the exposé that I was supposed to write. sort of. I'll probably need another hour or two until I feel okay enough about it to actually get any sleep.

unfortunately my left arm is realllly starting to hurt and I can't lift it much anymore (thanks to the covid booster I got today). hopefully I'll get it done anyway. and hopefully the pain won't be so bad that I can't sleep.

#I mean. if I get... idk like 3-4 hours of sleep that should be enough #I only have to be awake until the meeting is over. then I'll probably go back to bed. #and that way if it goes really really badly I can escape from that by being asleep lol #I hope it'll be okay 😭 I'm so scared #but it's this... much more quiet subtle kind of scared. I never experienced that before the anxiety meds #so it feels weird. #I haven't even cried yet! no panic attacks or anything! there have been a few meltdowns but not specifically about this #so I have to keep reminding myself that this is fine! I can handle this! it used to be sooooo much worse and I somehow got through that too #so I will definitely get through this and it will be okay #after all - no matter what happens. I'll be done with uni in February. I won't have to speak to my advisor ever again (so if he thinks I'm a #fucking idiot it doesn't matter at all!) #this is far from the hardest thing I've done! I was my dad's carer. I got my driver's license (yes that was very hard for me). I was in #therapy. I lived in abusive households until I was 25! this is easy in comparison #it just feels hard because I can't stand the feeling of being judged. and this is. just. me being judged (for what I write) #but it will be okay and I'll never write anything like this ever again and I'll get a break and I'll find a job I don't hate and it'll all #be worth it #personal #posts about my thesis

[littlecutiexox]

You are way better than porn 🥵

Cute things like this make me wish I was doing porn full time again but gah I’m just not cut out for it 🥺

#im so much less stressed now that im not doing onlyfans ngl #i do miss doing full videos #like the two full length spiderman videos i did #i was and still am crazy proud of #so much id wanna do #but my anxiety limits me a lot #and im not at a stage where i can consistently challenge it #but uh might post some old clips on twitter later #filming stuff with a fuck machine was sooooo fun

[roughentumble]

its not fully healed yet but its getting better day by day............ i still love it so much..... if this tattoo was a person i would kiss it

#it makes me want that sleeve so fucking bad getting tattooed feels so good and its so much fun #i need to. uh. you know. get on anxiety meds that Work or at the very least not stop them in the middle of the healing process #but ither than that. ive loved it sooooo much

[lecliss]

Yo those bot accounts that cross post from AO3 give me soooo much embarrassment. I dont advertise my fics for a reason. Dont fucking do it for me please god damn it

#CRINGE CRINGR CRINGE CRINHE DETECTED #NOW EVERYONE KNOWS YOURE WRITING CRINGE AND HAS SEEN IT LIKE AN AD #NOOO DONT LOOK AT MY CRINGE AD FOR MY FAIL FIC #ITS NOT EVEN MY AD #the idea of actually posting a link just gives me sooooo much embarrassment i fucking it hate it #lemme specify not when other people do it its just like a me anxiety thing #i personally do not want to do it for self reflection of the cringe. it is only cringe when i do it #SO DONT HAVE A BOT THAT FORCEFULLY DOES IT FOR EVERYONE IN THAT SPECIFIC TAG PLEASE DEAR GOD #personal

[knifegremliin]

so uhhhhh the thing i was anxious about last night that was keeping me up went. really well. and i am. 90% sure i'm actually gonna be getting a car this time.

#🔪.text #i'm feeling a little anxious now but it think it's more good anxiety #the car isn't absolutely perfect but the chances of finding a completely perfect car at a good price is. pretty low. #it has a thing or two that needs to be fixed #and it's not the color i wanted #but it's not an awful color either #and the upside is that with this color it has a dark interior #instead of the beige that the color i want has #and i. really don't care for the beige. #so honestly it kinda cancels out the fact that isn't the color i want #i haven't told the guy a definite yes yet #because i do wanna think about it just a little longer #but i am pretty damn sure it's gonna be a yes. #i once again apologize in advance for the person i'm gonna become #i am gonna be that guy who loves his car sooooo fucking much

[watering-plastic-plants]

.

#i hate having social anxiety sooooo much #i always think im a bit better than i was a few years ago but i think i just both stopped having friends and stopped going out in any #capacity so i stopped having (that many) reasons to be anxious #then i have people from uni inviting me out this summer and i was feeling all confident and then just. panicked. said no. made up an excuse #and now a friend from middle/high school invited me out and i said yes but i hate myself for doing so and i would hate myself for refusing #because they would know i was lying. they would know. and I'm panicking now and i will cry myself to sleep everyday i think about it and #then i will either bail and ghost them or i will make up a last minute excuse or i will go and have a horrible time #these two old friends are also so fucking intense. they are bold and they are argumentative and they are prying and i'm just. not. #we will have nothing to talk about because we have nothing in common and also i don't have an ounce of personality #i hate this so much i want a new brain #it's a weird mixture of feeling like i haven't changed at all since i was like 12 but also applying and getting into the masters program #somewhat feels like a fresh start and i dont want to see them because for better or worse I'm not the person they knew or thought they knew #between a crying panicking anxious mess or a robot at least i hope im in robot mode when i see them #just going through the motions and phrases without a single thought in my mind. i really hope so. i know i will go home and cry in the #shower for hours either way #yeah i fucking hate this brain of mine lmao (im not lmaoing) #rambles

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Stories and Dolls

A/N – Okay, so I just quit my job and I’m freefalling right now. Time to channel my anxiety into fanfiction. Also, this chapter is darker so I’m raising the rating to M.

Warnings – MENTIONS OF RAPE, S/A, ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, AND TORTURE.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.  

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

Still stuck in your ragdoll body, you ran back to the balcony and vaulted over the edge. It wasn’t a smooth landing, and it hurt a lot. Anyone else would have broken their bones, but when you were like this, there wasn’t anything else that could be broken. Everything had already been torn off you. Ignoring the pain, you ran until you found a taxi. You took it to the Hotel.

#fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fanfic #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #sinless sinners #female reader #fem reader #chapter 5 #part 5 #stories and dolls

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

#dancing in the kitchen #jen writes #fluff #angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x reader #college!au #modern!au #college!steve #modern!steve #modern!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america x f!reader #curvy!reader #best friend!steve rogers #best friend! reader #cap quartet au #chris evans #chris evans characters #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers onshot #steve rogers imagine #protective!steve rogers #slightly posessive!steve rogers

[grvyrd-drms]

ej with a very reckless, danger magnet, problematic, crazy nb reader? romantic hcs? 🥹 pls?🩷

eyeless jack x reckless reader !!!

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A/N: he's not even real and i can feel his headache from you. also sorry if the grammar isn't good in this one i'm too exhausted to english correctly (it's literally my 1st and only language but leave me alone)

CW: gn!reader, injuries, anxiety, jack being overprotective (in a good way 😋), very very mild NSFW like lowkey not even NSFW

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-YOU DRIVE HIM FUCKING CRAZY

-sorry.

-jack adores you. he really does. he finally found someone who's willing to push past all of his 'deformities', his trauma, his... picky appetite, all of it. only issue is of course that you are the most unhinged person on the planet.

-thank GOD that he's one of the resident 'doctors' in the manor. although i say that lightly, in all honesty he's so tired of you coming through the doors all bruised up. he misses when toby was his #1 visitor (thats saying so much)

-makes you carry a fully packed first aid kit when you "go on your adventures" as he puts it. tells you to shut the fuck up and just take it when you complain.

-jack takes your health very seriously. if he ever lost the one person he's found so far that actually cares about him he'd go apeshit. so yes. you're getting a weekly checkup and inspection. no you cannot protest. yes he will make up for it by whatever you want. (perverts..... /j)

-keeps special bandaids for u. ones with cool designs on them (they're all spiderman).

-gets SO STRESSED when you come in visible injuries (lots of blood, bruises, etc).

-acts like a mom lowkey. lectures you while he patches you up and then tiredly gives you a lil smooch on the head.

-holds you so so so so close late at night. almost like he's trying to shield your body with his.

-secretly tries to make deals with the others to go get you stuff instead of you going out to buy it yourself, just to try to prevent your ass from going anywhere without help 💀.

-if you break something, require stitches or anything that hurts he talks you through it. like watching him intensely place sutures while talking to you about what he's doing......... hnmhmnhmbbnbgg

-sometimes if he's in a bad place he'll watch you while you sleep. he just needs that reassurance that you're okay, and seeing you all comfy in bed, (not out in the middle of nowhere with zero supplies) makes him feel 100000 times better.

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i'm sooooo behind on my inbox sorry guys school is kicking my ass lol

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #:3 #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack hc #eyeless jack x y/n #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta smut #eyeless jack smut #headcanons #ej headcanons #ej hcs crp #crp #creepypasta nsft #eyeless jack nsft

[cindylouwhooo]

Chapter One

Gigi’ POV

There’s something about the spring breeze that instantly calms me.

Well, it usually does.

Now I’m just a ball of anxiety, counting down the seconds until I explode.

I’ve been in the studio for the past three days, wasting the time of my producer and assistant during the day, and getting no sleep while twiddling my thumbs and kidding myself that I can write another album at night.

I thought building a recording studio in my Monaco apartment while I stay here would help me. It hasn’t. At all.

And now I’m standing on my balcony, staring out on the packs of people running around the streets trying to get the place ready for the Grand Prix, contemplating whether I could be a good driver—well, just enough to quit my singing career.

I don’t mind the category; I could do F4. F1 Academy too. I’m really simple.

I drop my head on my hand and groan, just when my phone starts ringing from my back pocket.

“What?”

“Tell me you’ve written something.” Ally, my agent, demands through the device.

“I’ve written something.”

“Okay.” She sighs out. “Now tell me the truth.”

“I’m thinking ways of becoming a Formula 4 driver. Do we still have Susie Wolf’s number?”

“Gigi.”

“Ally, I’m serious. I don’t think I have another one in me.”

Ally starts yapping about something, and I put her on speaker while opening Twitter on my phone.

gigimymother

@gigisantos GIRL!!! RECKLESS THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY IS COMING!!!! WHEN’S THE NEW ONE????

santoslover

@gigisantos delulu is the solulu cause i still think Gigi is surprising us with a new album on Reckless anniversary…

—> gigifan girl be ffr she’s forgotten all about us

—> santoslover shut up

—> dannylovesgigi SAME!! i do also believe my ex is still in love with me sooooo

—> sandyford absolutely not, she is SO over…fame got to her and she thinks two mediocre albums are enough to stay rich 🤑

dannylovesgigi

y’all why’s the tl saying Gigi quit music???

“Were my albums mediocre?”

“G, get off Twitter for fuck’s sake and listen to what I’m saying.” I do as she says, mainly because I’m pretty sure she’ll fly from Toronto and strangle me if I don’t. “Time is ticking. And not in your favour. There’s so much i can do to keep you afloat.”

It’s the same speech. Over and over.

The same speech that I hear every time I pick up the phone from her call. The same speech that drove me away from Toronto and onto Monaco and the same speech that has drenched all the inspiration from me. I don’t have anything to write about, no words to turn into a song. And with every speech I hear, I don’t even want to try.

It’s draining. I hate it.

“Look, I know it’s difficult but you have to have something.”

I want to cry, I really do because her desperation is so evident in her voice. She believes in me too much and it’s gonna hurt when I disappoint her at the end of the summer.

The phone vibrates against my ear a couple of times and I take that chance to get out of the phone call with my doomed future.

“I gotta go, Ally. Something’s come up. I’ll call you later, okay?”

I end the call before she can butt in and let out the longest sigh in the history of the world. I see my best friend’s name on the screen of the phone and inevitably smile the biggest smile at the words on her text.

francis the king

you, me, alcohol 🍷

tonight

no is not a good enough answer

~ ~ ~

Strangely, the sweaty, already drunk people distantly surrounding our table made my mood quite quickly. Flashes of light spark every other second and I’ve become all too aware of the fact that it’s my first public viewing in a while.

My best friend is nursing on her drink while rolling her eyes at her boyfriend that’s on the phone with her, and I giggle at her facial expressions.

She’s incredibly in love, yet acts like Pierre is bothering her on a girl’s night out.

“Yes, I’ll call you at the end of our night…no we won’t call an UBER…okay, okay. Bye.” She ends the call abruptly and with the biggest, most dramatic sigh. “Okay, now we can start having fun.”

“I was already having fun.” I giggle.

Spending time with Francisca is honestly the only time I feel without the baggage of the third album looming over me. The bartender brings us the second round, and two extra shots on the house, accompanied with a wink for both of us.

“He’s cute.” Kika whisper-yells close to my ear over the loud music.

“Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise with Pierre?”

She rolls her eyes and slumps on my shoulder. “I meant you, dumbass.”

I know she did. But no.

It’s not like I’m cancelling love out of my life, but even entertaining the thought of going through the stages of finding someone and everything that happens after I’ve found someone decent, makes me want to hurl.

“The only man in my life is the imaginary one I created in the studio in order to spike my inspiration to write that damn album. His name is Tim.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not!”

“Shut up and drink.”

“Amen.”

~ ~ ~

Four rounds and five shots each later, we’re laughing at our lives and wiping the runny mascara that’s dripping on our cheeks. I don’t know what time it is but I can definitely feel the early stages of a good hangover that I’ll be having once I wake up.

But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Because four rounds and five shots later, I feel ten times better than I did when Ally called me earlier. And not because of the alcohol, but because Kika has lectured the insecurities out of me. She spent our girls night out talking to me and listening to me go on and on about my block and the expectations I’ve put for myself—I talked about shit I wouldn’t admit out loud.

At the end of the night, we’re clutching each other outside of the club and laughing so loud, heads are turning to look at us.

“Jesus, your boyfriend might be fast on track but he’s taking his sweet time getting here.” I pout and drop my head on Kika’s shoulder. “If I make a joke, like, ‘didn’t know you were as slow as your single seater’ will he cry?”

Kika laughs as she slips and grabs me tighter to not fall. “Yeah, he’ll probably cry.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Well, now I feel betrayed.” Pierre’s voice reaches us and Kika bounces off me to jump on him. He grabs her immediately and twirls her around, breaking my heart and making me the happiest person at the same time.

gigisantos …

gigisantos girls night was a success 🍷🍾🎉 @francisca.cgomez

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 893,409 more

gigiismother give us the new album!!!!!

santosloverrrr girl, get in the studio

pierregasly thank god i arrived in time

—> gigi @pierregasly shut up tripod

gigisantoslvr love her relationship with pierre 😍

f1fanlover why’s lando in the likes???

—> gigigigi because she’s friends with the drivers?

—> f1fanlover yea but they barely speak

francisca.cgomez my soulmate ❤️

As I drop my still clothed body on my bed, a million lyrics fly through my head. Melodies and words swirl in my alcohol infused mind, suffocating me at once and frustrating me as I forget one by one in the aftermath of a night out at the club.

~ ~ ~

#f1 imagine #mercedes amg f1 #mclaren f1 #fanfic #f1 smut #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #f1 social media au #f1 x oc #f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 #incorrect f1 quotes #formula one instagram au #formula one fic #formula one imagine #lando norris imagine

[running-in-the-dark]

I am feeling absolutely awful tonight, ugh.

#like #I was just getting used to feeling like... stable I guess #like it felt like I could handle things and the anxiety was sooooo much better and everything was alright #I don't know if this is because I'm so fucking stressed now. or maybe it's because I started taking a different endometriosis medication #instead of the pill. that I was on for 3 years #which would make sense... I always have lots of awful side effects with anything that affects my hormones #fuck I shouldn't have switched to this stuff 🙃 it was alright in the end. I could have just dealt with the side effects 😭 at least it was #predictable 😭 #I also feel like I'm going to start bleeding soon. which no no no no please anything but that 😭 I can't go through that again #the pain is so fucking bad #that would really be fucking terrible. and it would completely defeat the point of the medication. so. god I hope I'm wrong. #but either way I'm already in a lot of pain so 🙃🙃🙃 I hate my body and I want to die #(that's so fucking weird. I've been doing so well and these past few days I just keep thinking that stuff again. I hate this) #gonna go cry myself to sleep bc of the pain now 🙃 literally someone just stab me please or something #personal

[ughgoaway]

pegging.

ANON THIS WAS SUCH A FUNNY ASK TO RECIEVE I WAS GIGGLING SO HARD, YOU WERE SO BLUNT I LOVE IT AHAHAH

buttttttt I do love subby matty...

(I've never written pegging before sooooo... we will see how this goes...)

(p.s. There is use of the m-word in this blurb...)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

I can imagine him bringing it up one night... maybe you're casually chatting about kinks because you both want to make sure you're happy and satisfied in this relationship, so you discuss them regularly.

you can see matty shifting and wringing his hands together in his lap, so you put your hands on his and tilt your head curiously at him.

"Sorry, m'nervous," he laughs, and you can feel the anxiety radiating off him.

"Babe, there is almost nothing you could say that I would find strange, I promise," you reassure him, moving your hand to stroke at his cheek, which is gradually growing pinker and pinker he was certainly peaking your curiosity. What could he be so nervous about asking?

he finally makes eye contact with you and says, "Well... how would you feel about you being even more... dominating?" matty says shyly.

he opens his mouth to explain himself but snaps it shut and flicks his eyes away from yours, seeing him this antsy was already turning you on. knowing you had so much power over him made you feel slightly dizzy with ego.

you grab his face with his hands and force his eyes to meet yours, "cmon baby, tell me what you want," you tease, leaning in to press kisses to his neck.

Matty's breathing stutters as you mouth at his neck, but he manages to get something coherent out, "want you to fuck me." he whimpers, biting his lip to hold his moan as you bite at the base of his neck.

you pull back with wide eyes, and matty almost immediately starts stuttering apologies, but then he catches the sly smile on your face and the arousal in your eyes.

you were into it too. oh... interesting

///

cut to a few weeks later, and matty is holding himself up on shaky arms, arching his back needily and whining already. you're moving around him silently, studying him.

watching his dick leaking and seeing his eyes getting more hazy. he follows you with his eyes carefully, staring at the strap attached around your hips. keeping his eyes trained on the hot pink dildo between your legs.

he whimpers and turns to look up at you with desperate eyes, "please," he whispers softly, arching his back further and keening backwards.

you smirk at him and grab the lube of the beside table, sliding behind him and stroking over his lower back.

the contact shocks him forward, falling on his face as his arms give way. his muffled moan is loud to your ears as you move your hands lower, teasing at his hole with a dry finger. he immediately whimpers and tries to press back, but your firm hand on his hips makes him stop.

"Ah ah ah. don't be so impatient, baby, " you demand, opening the lube with a click and slicking up your middle and pointer finger.

as soon as matty feels the cold lube against his hole, he's moaning wantonly. you work one finger in slowly, sinking to the first knuckle and waiting. but matty pushing back tells you all you need to know, "needy boy," you laugh as you press your whole finger in. matty lets out a garbled moan and turns his head back to stare at you. His cheeks are beet red, and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his face.

he is totally at your mercy, patiently waiting for you to give him more. give him what he needs. he already feels his head spinning at the contact.

soon enough you're 2 fingers deep, fucking him quickly with your fingers and giggling at his reactions. each time you sink into him and brush that spot inside him, he grunts and his cock leaks onto the bed below him.

you work him open steadily, scissoring your fingers in his tight hole. a steady wet patch growing lets you know he's ready.

"you ready for my cock sweet boy? want to be fucked?" you ask pulling your fingers back and tracing against his hole with a featherlight touch.

matty twitches at your touch and lifts himself back up, his arms shaking as he does, "yes yes yes. m' so ready. please fuck me. need it, need you."

matty whines as he hears the wet noises of you slicking up the dildo. His hand instinctively moves towards his dick but your hand striking his ass cheek brings him back to earth, and he snaps it back to hold himself.

"Good boy, keep your hands to yourself, okay?" You demand softly. Before matty can respond, he feels the silicone teasing at his hole.

he can't help the choked moan that falls from his lips, he keens into it and feels the cold, slick cock penetrating him. he can't hold himself up any more, falling forward again, burying his face into the pillow and crying out as you work into him slowly.

you sinking into him already has him slipping into subspace, feeling dizzy and hazy the more you work yourself in. he can't believe you're actually fucking him, or how much you both are enjoying it.

you're nearly all the way in when he lets out a harsh cry, looking at you with tears falling down his cheeks. "doing so well, angel, nearly got in all in. Do you want to take it all? take mommy's cock?" you don't even think about the nickname before it slips past your lips, but the needy nods and moans from matty tells you he heard it. and he liked it.

"Yes, mommy, I can take it. please fill me up. " he wiggles his hips back, and his breath hitches when you begin to press in again.

a broken cry leaves his lips as you pop the final bit of the toy in. He settles into the feeling as you hush him and stroke his sweaty back softly.

"Move, please, m' ready. please" matty begs with a whimper. You start thrusting slowly, rolling your hips ever so slightly as you do.

your pace is even as you fuck him, studying him carefully and taking note of his reactions to your motions. it was his first time being fucked, but it was also your first time fucking someone. so you tried to keep track of his actions, of what he likes and dislikes. But he seems to just love it all, crying and groaning constantly.

a few minutes later, and after some reassurance from matty, you are pumping out of him furiously. "look at your greedy fucking hole, sucking me in over, and over, and over." with each word you pound into him harder.

"made to be fucked by mommy, weren't you baby?" you tease and slap his ass, before burying yourself in him to the hilt and revelling in the strangled screams that leaves his lips.

your thrusts are frantic and deep, and matty feels as if you are melding together, fusing into one.

he gets close embarrassingly quickly, partially from your relentless hips pounding into him and partially from your filthy words.

you lean forward to whisper in his ear, and matty cries out at the change of angle, especially because you keep driving into him. relentlessly fucking him with no mercy.

"You getting close, baby? you gonna cum on mommy's dick, hmm?" you whisper into his ear, tracing the outside with the tip of your tongue.

"yes yes yes yes. gonna cum just from you mommy, please let me cum" its then with a crashing realisation that you remember matty hadn't touched himself at all. he was this fucking close just from your cock pumping into him, pounding his prostate and rutting into him.

matty feels his gut tightening and the goosebumps forming under his skin as he hurdles closer to the edge.

you pull out until just the tip is inside him and then drive back in forcefully, burying yourself as deep as you can go inside him. matty feels like he's gonna split in two, and after 4 gut-deep thrusts he's cumming with a shout.

his cock spurts hot cum onto the sheets below him, coating them in white streaks. it feels never ending, his legs shaking as he just keeps cumming. you slow down but keep working yourself in and out of him, marvelling at his shaking legs and the sheer amount of cum leaving him.

he's writhing on your cock, throbbing around you as shockwaves overtake his body. ecstasy fills his veins, making his whole body shudder and shake helplessly.

matty feels like he could pass out from the pleasure, the tip of the dildo pressing agaisnt his prostate and milking every last drop from his leaking cock.

he lets out a broken whimper, and you slow down, giving him a minute to breathe before pulling out, staring at his wrecked hole for a few seconds before he collapses onto the bed. he couldn't care less that he's lying in a pool of his on cum, only focused on the aftershocks wracking his body.

a content smile covers his face as tears contuine to stream down his cheeks, he looks fucking blissed out. and you think you could cum from the sight alone.

#i do love some sub matty #💓💞💖whimpering whining men💖💞💓 #this was fun to write but ive never pegged someone so idk if this is accurate lol #read it with an open imagination is all im gonna say #anon! #matty healy smut

[takaminevaeh]

I've been writing this one the last couple of days and I really love fighter AUs... especially boxing and wrestling.

That said, I hope this one gets some sort of traction because I've hit a bit of a block and I really need to get back into writing... meaning that I need people to give me ideas.

I'll be posting the aftercare part in a few hours sooooo have fun my lovelies!

dom!boxer baku x sub!fem reader

cw// dom!/sub! dynamic, hair pulling, bondage, spanking, vibrator use, fingering, slight breath play, multiple orgasms, overstim, oral sex (f), cum eating

Enjoy~

He. Was. Pissed.

His shoulders move up and down as he breathes heavily, an ugly snarl on his face as he looks down at Izuku, lying on the ground.

Their training session was finally finished and I waited nervously by Katsuki’s things, watching him walk over to me with an angry expression on his face.

“Are… you okay?”

I regretted even opening my mouth, but I had to finish my question.

He hates it when I start to speak and never finish.

His frown deepened as he silently snatched his things from the bench, storming past me into the locker room.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, lowering my head as I played with my fingers.

“Hey… are you gonna be okay?” I look up at Izuku, gasping at the severity of the cuts on his face.

“I’ll be fine. Sit.” He stands still for a moment before sitting down, setting his bag beside him as he looks up at me.

I open the First Aid, taking out the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads. I start by disinfecting, apologizing over and over every time he winced.

I apply a thicker cotton pad onto the more significant cut and tape it down, adding a bit of ointment onto the smaller ones.

I hadn’t realized I was so close to Izuku until I felt a hand on my head, both my and Izuku’s eyes widening.

One of my hands was resting on Izuku’s neck while the other was rubbing his cheek gently, some of the ointment residue still on my thumb as I was putting on the last bit of it.

“Are you finished?” Katsuki’s tone was icy, sending a shiver down my spine as I nodded slowly, putting my arms down.

Izuku stands and grabs his bag, looking back at me one more time before going into the locker room.

Once the door closes, Katsuki moves his hand down to my nape and spreads his fingers, his whole hand resting on my head under my hair.

I knew what he was about to do.

He grips the hair on my scalp tightly, forcing me to look up at him as he growls.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He hisses, his stare piercing deep into my soul as I whimper.

“I-I was just cleaning his cuts…”

“You’re mine… That means you only patch me up… got it?” I whimper, nodding softly. He releases his grip on me and waits for me to pack up my things.

He lays his hand on the small of my back as we walk out of the training center, leading both of us to his car.

He chucks all of his things in the trunk, being careful with my things as he places them perfectly in their spots, closing the door and walking me over to the passenger side.

He opens the door for me and I slide into the seat, putting my seatbelt on as he shuts the door.

I hear a faint hum coming from him as he approaches the driver’s side.

He's probably cursing me out with words that don’t even exist.

The ride back home was silent, only furthering my anxiety as I tugged on my fingers nervously.

What am I supposed to do?

I already know I’m in for it because of how rough training was today.

But after helping Izuku… I just made it worse.

So much worse.

We make it back home and he shuts off the engine, not moving for a minute before speaking.

“I want you to take a quick shower. After you finish, I want you on the bed in whatever outfit I lay out for you. You have fifteen minutes.” I open the car door and head inside, going up the stairs and walking into the bathroom.

I do exactly as he instructed.

I showered as quickly as I could, hopping out of the shower and drying myself with a towel from the warmer.

I take my hair out of the clip it was in and check myself in the mirror, watching as my curls fall in pretty waves around my shoulders.

I walk into our bedroom and see a black lingerie set sitting on the sheets.

I noted the fluffy cuffs and ball gag lying beside it and dropped my head.

I’m so fucked.

I get into the lingerie set, looking into the mirror to make sure it is on right, moving all of my hair to the back and leaving my two front pieces out.

I sit on the bed and rest my hands on my knees, kneeling as I wait for Katsuki to come in.

Just as I was getting comfortable, Katsuki walked in, freshly showered and in his gray sweats.

“Good, you’re finally behaving.” I flinch a little at the harsh tone in his words, lowering my head.

“… I’m sorry.”

“Did I say you could speak?” I shut my mouth, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks as I shake my head.

“No… no I didn’t. Look at me.” I lift my head, my eyes trembling as he stares at me with lust and rage.

I keep still as he approaches, kneeling to be at eye level with me.

“Now usually, I would let you patch up that shitty nerd… I will admit that. However, I know you saw my face midway through training… and even still, you decided to help him.” I look away, unable to maintain the eye contact I was receiving.

“Look at me!” He wraps his hand around my jaw and squishes my cheeks, forcing my head to face him.

“This session tonight is gonna be harsh. I want you to remind both me and yourself of your safe word.”

“Blue,” I say softly.

“Nonverbal?”

“Are you going to blindfold me...?”

“… No.”

“Three blinks.”

“Good.” He released his grip on me and opened his hand, silently instructing me.

I move my hand so it’s lying on his.

He wraps one end of the fluffy cuff on my wrist, not too tight to hurt me but tight enough to not be able to escape.

He does that for the other hand and stands, grabbing the ball gag from beside me.

He taps my chin and I open my mouth, allowing him to slip the gag between my lips, moving my hair to secure the buckle.

I look up at him, not sure where this session was going but too nervous to even attempt to ask.

He grabs me by my waist and lifts me, forcing me to stand.

He gets on the bed and sits against the headboard, patting his lap.

“Lay down. Your ass in the air.”

My eyes widen and I shake my head.

His eyes darken.

“I won’t repeat it.”

I lay down on his lap and he places his hand on my ass, caressing the soft skin.

“You just keep making this worse for yourself, you know that, right?” He moves the lacy panties down, dragging his fingers in light circles across the cheeks.

My breathing becomes more erratic with every brush of his fingers, the drool already starting to slip out of my lips and onto the bed.

“… How many cuts did you patch up?”

I stay silent.

He forcefully removes the gag from my mouth.

“How. Many.”

“Thirteen,” I say softly.

“Thirteen…” His hand lands hard on my ass, making me yelp as I grip the sheets.

“You better start counting, princess.” I whimper.

“O-One…”

The fact that Katsuki Bakugo was a boxer, just made his hits hurt so much worse than what most men were capable of dishing out.

And my ass felt like it was on fire.

“No more! Please!”

“Ah, ah! Did I say you could speak besides counting?” I shudder as he runs his hand over the places he’s been spanking, making me twitch.

“T-Twelve…” I whine, breathing heavily.

“Come on, princess… I know you can do it… you’ve been doing such a good job… just one more…”

I bite my lip, tears streaming down my cheeks as I bury my face in the covers.

His hand lands on my ass again, this one hurting more than the rest as I curse at him.

“Fuck!”

“Oh… wrong move, princess.” He grabs me by my hair and lifts my head roughly.

“Fuck. You.” He shoves the gag back into my mouth, making me cough as he drops my head.

He shoves me off of him and I huff, staring up at the ceiling in tears.

“Don’t move.” He stands and disappears from view, reappearing with more restraints.

I shake my head, pleading with him with my eyes.

“No… no, you don’t get to look at me like that.” He spreads my legs and ties my ankles to opposite ends of the bed.

He then moves to my wrists, removing the cuffs and cuffing my hands to the headboard making it impossible for me to move.

“Now, I wanna see how much you can take for me… I have this,” He pulls out a wand vibrator, staring at me with a lustful smirk.

“I want… three orgasms from you.” My eyes widen as I stare at the toy in his hand.

“Oh, come on… you’ve given me more than that… you don’t think you can take it?”

I shake my head.

“Well… I think you can, pretty girl… and you will.” He turns the wand on and I squirm.

“Hold still… or do you want me to make it four?” I shake my head furiously.

He hovers the wand over my nipples, the vibration making them erect and I arch into it.

“Aww… I knew you wanted it… you want me to make you cum… don’t you..?” I cave into the pleasure, nodding as I stare up at him with desperate eyes.

In one quick motion, the wand was vibrating against my pussy, a muffled mewl erupting from my throat from the pleasure.

“There she is… there’s my horny girl…” He moves down to pull the lace bra down a bit, sucking on one of my nipples. His tongue flicked over it, sending more jolts of pleasure through my body.

The simple action made me come undone, my body quaking in pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Good girl… that’s one…” I roll my hips against the wand, my body is full of need as I chase another orgasm.

“Aww… you’re just so eager… are you gonna be good and cum for me again?” I nod desperately, whining as he wraps his fingers around my neck, applying a delicious amount of pressure.

It was enough to tip me over again, my hips bucking aggressively as my pelvis lifted off the bed.

“Now that one was intense… so pretty…” I breathe shakily, the pleasure turning into overstimulation very quickly as I start whining and moaning loudly.

“Come on… just one more for me…” He sticks two fingers into my pulsating hole, pumping them in and out while turning up the vibration and holding the wand with his palm against my clit.

I moan loudly, my eyes crossing from the pain and pleasure as I tug on the cuffs.

“Mm… you’re clenching so pretty around my fingers…”

My thighs shake intensely from the pleasure, and my vision goes fuzzy.

He ups the vibration again and curls his fingers, the pressure and vibrations making me come undone yet again as I squirt all over his hand, clenching pathetically around his fingers.

“Such a messy girl…” I ride out my orgasm, my eyes unfocused as the drool slips from my lips, whining desperately.

He finally pulls his fingers out and removes the wand, turning it off.

I clench around nothing, breathing heavily as he pulls the gag out of my mouth.

He guides my head towards him, pulling me into a sloppy kiss.

“Mm… you did so good for me… let me clean you up…”

He crawls to lay in between my legs, his face hovering in front of my pussy.

“N-No… s-s-so sen… sitive… c-can’t…” My eyes cross as I feel his tongue lick my pussy slowly, twitching hard as it brushes over my clit.

One more stroke of his tongue and I cum again, my body shaking as my eyes cross and my head falls back against the pillows.

He finishes lapping up my juices and crawls on top of me, licking his lips of my essence as he kisses my neck.

“You taste so sweet…” He undoes my cuffs and I take the opportunity to hug him, my hold weak from the orgasms but still there.

He peppers kisses all over my face and neck, pulling me onto his lap as he sits up.

“I’m gonna untie your legs and then I’m gonna get you into the bath… how does that sound, baby?”

“Hold me… a little… longer…” He nods, running his fingers up and down my back with a feather-light touch.

“Okay… we’ll wait.”

#boxer au #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut