#stim toys masterlist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralnymphh · 10 months

Text

saturated sanctity

tonguefucking raw in the barn, away from dina's eyes ౨ৎ

. part two 𝜗𝜚

❛you had cunt on your mind, 'n cum on your breath❜

PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER > .ᐟ ♡. summary; a chore so innocent and prosaic, far from featherbedding and near to plucking grain from your scalp– turns for the worst, or the best? i soundly connote, fornication ventured on two bends of eager knees, drinking you from beneath the hood 𐙚 .ᐟ ♡. cw; depictions of infidelity, homewrecking, semi-risky sex, jealousy, bit angsty, tension, guilt, pining, tears are shed, playing around, lusting, clit stim (r, fingers and oral), fingering (r), pussy eating (r), scant nipple stim (r), ass groping, ass slapping, breast groping, swallowing slick, pussy slapping, steamy make-out buildup, dirty talk, needy ellie, smug ellie as usual, dom!ellie, sub!reader (i swear sub!ellie is coming next chapter) domestic acts, bold text is flashback dialogue, petnames; babe, baby, good girl (lmk if i missed anything) .ᐟ ♡. pairing; farm!ellie x farmhand!reader .ᐟ ♡. a/n; ending feels a little lazy but it is what it is. hey i'll pull through on ss3 that's like the smut crux, if u get my jizzst..

✵ masterlist ✵ series masterlist ✵ got too lazy 2 proofread right away ✵ WC; 9.8k+

VOLUME TWO - The skin that flakes/ Under the hood

𝄞

Indulgences have the gall to peck at you.

Pecky and prickly as the oncoming hens do, handwriting–on–the–wall misgivings that throttle you off a steady minute by minute track. Small nuances under light of sun kept doing so this week, numerous things apropos of bawdy suggestions wisped by that reckless pink snake of hers– always mere footsteps from running into Dina, ‘I think it would be, really, reaaally hot if you didn’t wear your p-panties at the table, tonight..’ always brain–caked in a bit of alcohol, hiccuping. Or, even when a cold cuff cocoons the hind of your upper–thigh, an inch below the crease of your butt and done as she passes like a ghost behind you in the kitchen.

A plum bruise should have formed from how often you flicked that forehead of hers. But no, of course no. The only thing that formed each time was a cocky curl into her lips, corkscrewing those fine hazel freckles connate to a whirlpool in water.

Owing to the fact that she lacked sufficient care from you, has her pouting when you deny her. Denied her of that fiendish wish to lie beside each other– even if it be upon that packed sofa, or– of her vehement dreams, reposing within sniffing distance of an ambery lit fireplace, running her work–worn fingertips along your hill of chest, letting the beat beneath your breast verse in her hands a tale to beckon her own in accordance, toasting aflutter with love. She would push a kind pressure to said breast, emboss prints to squishy skin, mold it to her liking, and smirk when your nipple erects and bends under her hardy palm.

On the other hand, woe of denial, she sought Dina in your figment. When she wasn't courting twisted fingers up your billowing skirt, she instead smelt her heart in twisting her from the inside out, which– even more woefully, gave Dina the impression that Ellie had come crawling back on starved knees. Woe is her, to misreckon and take what she thought was hers to safekeep.

Arteries, wrenched and awreck, you felt a toy in contrast to what really stood. Worry.

Worries are the hens, pecking at you.

Will Dina catch you two here? Over there? This night, or the inbound day? Tines of time aren't obligated to tell, ringing of peril whenever they yen a sign to sow.

Thoughts would only continue to foment come light of day.

A lemony sun has risen beyond the hill laden skyline, plucking rays for your wake. Muted orange tones mingle and caper into flaming reds on the crest of your sealed eyelids, caught just as you bid adieu to your cotton sogged dream. For dreams die, at every crossroad.

“Mhh..” the gentlest brush of breath hinders sun washed quietude split, and a set of toes curving down to a stretch. Achy aches ache, as there’s enough ache to go around for farm hands such as you, ugh right?

Disturbing be the sunlight drawing blinding rays on your bleary pupils, attempting to shade out familiar nooks of your room. Ah, there we go, hues of sable dark in unvisited corners and shyly crowding the light, fluid out of the clear glass pane. As the couch is situated opposite of this blaring window, it greets you quite rudely.

The moment colors begin to mature and petrify within your vision, you're already hiking up a foot and rocking your bottom off the quaint sofa, veering a peek to the indent left. Slept like a log, huh? Feet plant weight on plods carrying you towards the wardrobe, grantingly aside the wide pearl–border window, flitting a forearm up to block incoming light.

A huff bloats your cheeks and pouts ducky lips, then grumbling a burden off your shoulders, “Hhhmmmm..” no truer words were spoken.

You lodge fingers in oaken crevices and pull a sundry of drawers from their frame, rubbing cotton on wool as you dig without aim on what you may don, this or that, with which and what, where and when. Blah, yawn, bored, you avert your gaze on lucent glass and scrutinize a pine bough panorama– only for your eyes to spring and espy a sparkle.

A gleam of skin.

And a tuft of copper.

Ellie.

Her torso fit in a white ribbed tank, soaked in hues of gray at the dip cut collar, and handsomely clung to her perky breasts. An arm raises, a graceful length likeness of a canopy above her head, stretching freckled flesh over toned muscles, the grooves– shadowed in a whisper of brown, highlighted celestially, and exposing a small auburn bush beneath her pit. A seen groan escapes her slit gob, brows hefty– she crumples them dear into her eye sockets, ruching the thin skin. Exertion tapered her body akin to clay, and it was undeniably hot, scrunching her face up like that. Ellie then juts her hips forward and casts her head rearward as she stretches, releasing all tension in a swing of her arms down.

Seems like she's tending to the fore yards.

Dew gleams honey, sweat paints skin, and portrays your girls as a ruddy rose in dashing spring. Ruddy, yeah, that solar ball in the sky sure made her skin popping arid of paleness. Naturally, her freckles betone like pepper, bulging on her red face– which scrunches in her gripe of stress.

Her lips part, mouthing an obvious, ‘Fucking hell.’ and baring teeth after, slightly. Lashes interwoven, her eyes stayed squinted, only to widen and dart when a muffled shout rattles the walls.

Right, fuck, Dina needs me.

Just as the drizzly auburn–head jogs from a peeking view and presumably into the house, you reverse and capsize through stacks of cloth until you land your choice– a sundress. Hey, it's hot today, let your butt breathe for a change. You dangle it by the thin straps prior to pleating up the skirt and slinking it over your crown, yanking every seam in place. Ruffles hit a stonecast above your knee, a sensible length.

But one question stands unturned.

Bra, or no bra?

Hmm.

No bra.

A proper chest of cotton cradles your breasts come rain or shine, not like Dina would mind with brine, nor judge off the heart– just freeing the girls. No biggie. The woven material lollops to a fare–thee–well, cozy on the curve, ribbing as it falls in place. Now, you just need something on your feet. Striding forth, waxing a gale, bare steps soften on each oak board's scant gap, sylvan grain texture grazing your toes. Just a few feet ayond the couch is your shoe cubby, small box frames home to varied work boots and scuffed sneakers, and based on today, you choose boots, clasping the hardy backstays in a pinch. You crouch and gripe at the sore sting your knees gave, manning it through and sliding foot by foot plumb to the squishy sole of your boots, tying up the cordy laces.

Guh, these boots are near rugged.

Ignoring the plain–in–sight fray to your boots’ hemp laces, you grasp and wrench the icy knob ‘round till the door grinds a cry open. Stepping under the arch, you brisk thump by thump and cut where the hallway bends, advancing the dining table.

A dyad of ears harks your growing din of solid steps, calling, “There you are, did'ja sleep like a log?” mellifluous notes of Dina's cadence carries, veering your sight on the kitchen– where she be, perching an oaken honeycomb rack to forearm.

That I did.

“Yuup–” you pirouette, spanning the table's border and hiking that very ridge plane into your butt, sighing, “sun was there to greet me, obnoxiously.” leaning into the table, you grouse lightheardedly.

“Oh shit– sorry ‘bout that, swear I'll put up a–”

“Don't worry, it's the one thing that actually wakes me up these days,” you crack a quip, chuckling with an open mouth.

Dina caters a kind tug on her mauve lips prior to whisking her eyes returned, a glossy honey to be. Syrupy knuckles press and crinkle in the hilt of a honey fork, pruning waxy slices and welling gold bubbles, crafting a drippy stream that canals into a glass bowl. Through laden light it gains a gilded life, casting a tiny star on the moist blob– and there you witness, nectar of the gods.

Capricious minds might have swiped a dollop of that sweet, sweet delicacy by now.

Weighing the silence, you tempt thoughts racing around your skull. What chore am I assigned today? Where is the cacophony of babbles and gurgles that follow Dina like a haunting spirit? Where did Ellie go? Ellie, Ellie, Els.

God did she look breathtaking in that tight–

A rush of thuds divert your curious eyes to the creaking stairs, preluding the swell of said babbles and a husky voice, Ellie's voice.

“Dina?” hailed she, echoing halfway down the steps, “I changed his diaper!”

Dina cocks her head in heed, crowing back, “Okay! Just– give ‘im to her!” tone knocking against the hollowed walls, then, she sheers attention to you, “mind feeding him?”

You hum a keen, “Mhm.” void of second qualms and wait on that certain honey–head to appear, hearing the increments of footsteps draw lower and nearer.

The honeylike cowl, stria of fawn auburn drapes soft strands to laze with a purpose on her neck, fashioning that scruffy mullet eyes prize after. Honeykin defines the head that tags after gray, deadbeat converse hop the last few steps and plant still on the oaken floor. For a honey so sinful sought you, and buys a bite of time, to stare.

Her liven pasture eyes catch on you, just a moment, and skip away, reminded of what she intends, “Uh, here.” her forearms unfurl and slink to you, offering JJ up in thankful arms.

You rub in bare flesh to hers, scooping the gurgly baby in a shyer than thankful human cradle, foreheads feckly bumping into each other as you swap, a ghosting of heads. A whaff of her work–spent scent digs into your brain, and you had to admit, it was a tinge sort of lovely. She had the farmyard tang about her, blessed with sweat, a firming physique, a stare that caught you a corpus melting in her esse.

Fairer than the weeks before her touching of you, the bounty it procured was tame, fair is the present. Fairest days, faring a harvest more splendid than dreams carping yonder ebony skies and heavy heads. An unruffled weightlessness many souls find hopes fed in, you found aplenty of in the waking world. With Ellie, you drank laughs, fiddled about the haystacks, snuck apples in your fist– nicking dewey chunks down her gullet in shared kisses, or let her shamelessly tug some of your ass meat in horny hands. Oh, isn't infidelity just the niftiest drug.

Smitten as a kitten, you are.

Carpe diem.

“You’ sleep well?” asked Els in monotone, pitching a paw up to weave through her jumbled locks, splitting strands.

Heaving a breeze, you sigh, “Decent enough, you?” and counter the question, bobbing your stance on bending knees– pray that baby doesn't scream, as always.

“Like a baby,” she asserts, lush of a brag, dropping her hand and poking at the chubby–cheeked fella, who just got a free mention, “not so much this one, yeahh? Did you scream my ear off all night?” cooing.

“Mhm, heard that.” you add.

“Betcha did.”

“Hmm.”

Her eyes peek up, and goddess, it's that look again. Oh yes, the very gaze spilt upon the oaken table that hale spring day, a twinning star. These eyes, ladies and gentle–non–mens’, fondled a plight of husky play sat on the edge of her mucky mind, and it showed vividly in those flourishing pupils that thin her pine–lined eyes. Tilted smirk dotting dimples in her big appley cheeks, cuspid teeth goring a dint in chapped lips crying with dire need of moisture. Sexy– minus the lips maybe.

She knows what effect that look has.

What exactly sits vanward of that hormone tipsy mind, is an excerpt best served in the formula of two tongues tied– for even Ellie herself may strive to compose hunger incarnate at this fledgling hour of daybreak. And yet she cannot. The mere thought of your pussy clots her brain cells. So, how do we fix that?

Play pretend!

“Hey babe,” that auburnette already had her head whipped south towards Dina before you could flit a blink, feet sparking her a brisk carry yon the shabby oak floor. Creak, creak, clonk, foot by foot she departs a sliver of bitterness in your chest.

A demure bitter, a sense you can simply shake off. For now.

“There you are..” spoken so softly from Dina, who still had a rack of flaxen honeycomb in her hold, slanting to an angle, “what took ya so long?” voice curling.

“Wasn't that long,” she emphasized her vowels, “m'here now..”

“Good..”

She was far from there.

“Mhh,” hummed Ellie, pressing her lips into a thin stroke, puckering about to intone a curly, “ohhh, honey– can I have a lick?”

“Mh–mm, that's for the apples.”

“Aww.”

A meshing of lovers. Real love, virgin love, dying love, feigned love, it all wreathes together on the outside– for the sake of earthly vein, tender were those emotions long ago. Hasty do the doves encircle a budding entanglement, and bells chime where dust remains uncollected on wanton hearts. Uncanny, do the crows crawl in their grandeur of an affection died– sprawling sooty wings through tough gravel and mushy mud, rendering them unable to fly again. Unearth that shit, and you're seated for a whole fuckfest, indeed.

So consume what you see with a grain of shit–face nothingness.

Ellie slinks a glide upon Dina, pushing her harsher on the counter's nook and slumping arms to swaddle her torso. She cradled her in the natural bow of her body, projection of her bony hips plated dual plumb dimples in her ass, grinding with a purpose. Denim chafes on denim, bringing a light noise of fabricy licks. The cottony hem of her soiled tank begins to bunch with each rolled hump, proving the friction to be– lustful. Her hands wander her body, not yours, pausing and choking the fat plush of her thighs, losing sunny–ruddy pigment to wanting pressure, then releases, and traces back up.

Pupils of yours aimed so pinpoint on each sweep of her hand, yet, you bore an idle set of gestures. Cupping a waxy rubber bottle in your grasp, brimmed with milk opaque of lily–white and feinting a crisp chill to your fingertips, you park the nozzle to the baby's lips. Giving a squeeze with care, you feed him– idly, idly turned from the scene afore, except for your eyes.

Strain sets a pull on them as you stare.

A bitsy wince of, “Ellie..” dries moistness on her lips, shuddering to an ajar gasp.

“Mhm, like that?” husked with a bass that ripples, so, so deep in her diaphragm, you swore it nearly rattled your ears from where you poise.

A gasp died into, “We can't–”

“But we can..” a frugal answer, meant for one pair of ears only. Only, what a joke. An ill timed joke on Dina.

Had it truly been for one person only, Ellie would not be striking risk right in the butt. Nifty as she is, juggling those risks aimlessly, she stares at you. The crown of her head ruffles up messily on her scruff as it pivots, flushed nose pointed to you, pale lids of supple creases kin to a beach cove as they open, batting reeds of chestnut everlasting. They flap, waiting for you, in the delay of that week–past chance snuffed.

Intimidating, austere demeanor flowering in those buttony pupils– and she eyefucks you with them, even tugging a wink your way. A fucking wink. Her ploy of fondling Dina, so obscenely, clearly dirty, read in gold typeface as ‘Wish this was you.’ loud and proud. Much more so when her digits curl and dig dents in her waist, and her teeth carve marks as she bites her coral lip down, showing you.

She's showing you how she wants to play with you.

Being an unwelcome voyeur, you felt the tail–tug to glance away. And in that fleeting veer, a loud smack resounded and left you surprised on the tips of your boots.

“Uh!” a yelp ejects air from its jailed position in Dina's gullet, forwarding her body with a jounce.

A foul, “Hehe–” trebles a giggle from Ellie, shit–eating grin withal, “so sensitive.. again?” her hand rubbing circles to where she struck ass.

Fuck.

Fuck, because she has uttered those exact words to you before, wetly on the shell of your ear, yesterday. At dead noon eve, stark flat on your bedroom door, a makeout you'd rather not divulge. Though, did Dina hear that thumping racket?

You feel a throb, a throb that drops. It beats from your maddened heart to your aching hole, literally. A web of hot arousal dribbles over the ribbing of your walls, leaking into a sticky splotch on the plateau of your panties. Fern eyes of something unholier–than–the–moan–of–a–devil felt denser working than self–pleasure, it tickled just right.

But it doesn't belong to you, so don't pluck that apple. Ignore that tickle.

“Okay, baby–” Dina gruffs and shoots her shoulders up, nudging Els’ clingy head off, “seriously, I got shit to do.”

“Hmm, suit yourself.” Ellie gave up and wacked her hands up in defense, feigning offense.

You slither that milk–glossy tap gently from purling lips, cooing, “There you go.” as you set the bottle down with a placid thud, spurring a lone finger up to bat slowly upon the baby's nubby nose, how maternalistic of you.

A gait of striking steps softly approaches you. With your head huddled and stance shielded the opposing direction of the two, you couldn't see who that person was. Although, you deemed it safe to assume it may be Ellie, coming to poke at you again.

“Hey, could you help Ellie sweep the barn?” a honeyed voice entrances your focus instead, Dina, of course, “sheep dragged in a whole buncha’ shit, shouldn't take long though.” she notes, casually.

A long droning intervenes “Uhhh, I never volunteered to–”

“You did when you chose to live on this farm with me,” her voice strains, flowing into a breezy chuckle whilst gesturing for you to hand her JJ, “Right, babe?”

“Pshh–”

Bearing aloft, you slink that baby's bum right into her curviform arms, feeling the cottony onesie drag on your forearm as his weight lifts off, bending at the knees scantily.

“Fiiine, I'll muck the– smelly sheep shit for ya’,” her voice bores deeper in exaggeration, becoming a blurry blob moving behind Dina's poise as she slinks forth, “gunna’ need a mask, I think.” and quips, wrapping her lithe arms to a cinch on her waist.

Dina grunts, butting her arms loose before it gets tighter and coasting a few feet yonder, “Barn, please.” reiterated she, flatly.

Tapered as her jaw is, she clenches it further, taking that blow of a refusal to her touch peevingly, teeth to a grind. Jeez, she's quite handsy today.

“Hmmph,” a grunt deadlocks at the fore of her compressed lips, rolling at the neck and cocking aside a signal for you–”c'mon.” she mumbled, clicking her waggish tongue.”

A scoff jumps from you, “M'not a horse.” you squint and trot your feet along, heavy timber steps pittering towards the ajar backdoor, dash of light spilling through.

“What? Didn't say you were.” she headstarts and jerks the door chasmally open, banging against the oaken trim.

“Door!” shouted Dina, now muffled as you enter beneath true light of day.

“Sorry!”

You wince both muck–free feet into a macula of moist earth, feeling your weight sink and squeeze a taint of muddy blob as you hoick off and traipse forth. A kittenly, “I think the only horse here is you– smelling of sheep shit,” comeback lightens the air, giggling, “Peee–yuuu, somebody get me a mask.” and shooing an invisible stench from your nostrils.

“Puuh–lease, as if you don't smell like a hot pile of garbage after your chores,” thrummed out of her gob easily, just so she could smooth in, “Emphasis on the hot.”

“God, you amuse me.” you shake your head low and smile, bloating the inwards of your cheeks ‘till they hugged your nose, two blooming mushrooms.

Her body spirals in a swing of her leg, now walking completely backwards, “Wasn't trying to amuse, m'being serious. U're hot.” she brownnosed, even giving you the fucking eye–up–and–down.

This baser, coy weirdo. Can't go nary a breath without summoning a smile unto you.

Your wandering eyes travel up a stream of fading cumulus clouds, sheer stranding like a veil pierced with astral rays– and you mull mind over answers across those clouds, for how could you reply, origin of wit?

Then, so cross the dumbest, possibly weakest retort, transferring from sky–gaze to mouth.

“Andddddd u're not.” you skip ahead of her with a feign of sass, causing her to whip back around.

“Not what you said last night.”

Okay that's true, but..

You egg her on, splayed palm melding to cold, rusted iron grip of a shovel, “I said a great many things, remind me?” as you tease.

“Gladly.” a hotness more snug than the sun cupped your wrist, pricking your grasp open free of the shovel–hilt and spinning you like a ballerina– knocking shin to shin so you plaster flat on the splintered wood door of that barn. Els hovered close, horridly close, breath fervent to your mid–face, “where should I start, babe?”

You freeze, blizzard of a kindled burn, a smolder trenching roots through your reddening cheeks. That throb, returns. You just couldn't gauge which throbbed more severely– the banging of a mad heart, resounding echoed thwacks against caved ribs, or the chokehold of your beaded clit, squeezing up into your cunt and getting you to chafe moist arousal from your labia, wringing webs across your entrance.

No, not again, not here.

“You should start..” a gulp burdens the words back in your gut, re–rounding with a deflect, “by mucking the stable.” silkenly fallen to a wholly nether topic.

Dumbfounded was the look to darken her visage, bristly brows dropping like sawed trees and cleft of her lips bowing to a frown, unamused, “Seriously?”

“Mhm!” you swerve the shovel handle at her unprovoked, letting her catch it prior to crouching under her barred arms and strolling off towards the sheep stall.

And like a dog, she tailgates hot on your hind. Bark bark bark, yapping ditto to one too, “Why do I gotta shovel shit n’ not you? –Huh?” yet in the most unserious, sportive tone, ever. Dorky smirk lingering in her words, pounding a laser through the thickset back of your skull.

Man, if Ellie was a dog– she'd be a damn Siberian husky. Pining for unending attention and peskily playful, too playful, even.

Each crunch of hay behind you, every little sigh she put forth in bone–dry air, the sum of her laughy scoffs that no way in a verdant pasture heaven wouldn't be expelled without a toothsome smirk. She was the blight of you, your anathema, pockmarking inside your brain imagery of how she looked when you averted your gaze, meanwhile she beheld the rear of your head, cocksure of her annoyance. Oh, and goddess how it never falters to soar her heart high of a heavenly altitude, skirmishing every cloud with her melodious drum of life when even simply laying scrutiny to the hair awry with mess, shrouding your nape in the natural fall of it, bouncing on each step. A love of life that you could give.

That is all her mind bends to, pestering you, so help her goddess, she will enact anything, to make this abominable sin a grounded relationship.

Look upon me, won't you?

You tuck a finger around the tiny hook lock, opening the large sheep stall, “Because–” you pause, cutting past the rails and drawing an arm over to grasp a rickety rake, elevating it over the half–wall, “someone's gotta uncover the shit first.”

Her knee pooches out mildly as she recasts her weight on a wall, twiddling her thumb over every scuffed mark of the shovel, examining its ridges beneath her print. Yet, her eyes stayed absorbed in you, taking the waft of every leg stride, arching of your spine as you stoop down, extension of your hands grasping the rake's shaft– stabbing the crooked tines into a labyrinth of heaping hay, the screaming of metal scraping on concrete, causing her ears to tremble and tighten, alongside a squint. The noise muffles, then awakens as she relaxes her facial muscles, slacking her jaw to speak, “Y'really good at that, y'know..” mumbled, even.

“Mmht–” you smack your tongue moist, dithering your head in puzzled wags, “–I am literally just raking the ground,” humbled you, thinking of her dumbly so, “weirdo.”

“Pshh, yeah, but I bet you'll have this whole stall swept in like a minute tops.” she claims through a fried rasp, vailing her pale lids low as she stares– stares of yearn.

Further squashed upon hilarity, you whack a tuft of hay clean through air, then stake the rake upright to a wooden beam and lean, staring back rich with spite, “And I bet an hour for you, what– just standing there?”

“I don't see any shit yet, m'waitin’ on youu..” her vowel drawls long, smug–fuck expression curling those rosy lips.

“Oh really?” your thumb unlocks from the lot of your clutching digits, breaching the rake with a springy sound as it bludgeons against the oaken column. Ranging your foot forward, you brace the skimp distance from you to her, planting softened steps.

Maraschino cherry of her chubbed cheeks, a puckish smirk reads more and more intently as you approach. Each thwack of sole leather to hardy ground is a pump of excitement for her– reckoning your current passage as a rite of igniting something. Sway of your hips, stopping of your tracks in front of her, she wonders– or hopes, of what you'll do next.

You gave that freckled face a prompt pore–over, recognizing that flare of her brows jerking up slightly when you park optics onto her slit–open ones, inhaling, “Then let me do it.” and splaying your palm up to the ceiling, expecting the shovel plumb in–hand, easily.

“Hmm, nah.”

You furrow a lone brow, “Why not?”

“Cuz’ I got it.” spoken cockily, lips flubbed out and head swung like a whip, winding the crescent strands of burnished hair out of her eyesight.

So cavalier.

If Dina were here, the place’d be fuckin’ primely polished. Be for real.

“Sure,” you blunt your accent, nigh on sarcasm, “what's gotten into you?” pleating your fist to a ball, you slot it between the warm pocket of breast to bicep, crossing your arms.

You.

You– are what's gotten into her. Two horny adults unchaperoned, in the convenience of privacy, sub rosa, a smidgeon apart, lusting with their parts of lechery, staring down at sorely empty hands that could be full of each other's flesh, it doesn't fare well. Emptiness, a sphere of it, sleeping in palms where it is an unwelcome voyeur– snoring, vibrating. Dormant touch never falls short of pulsation, like a magnet, it reaches for her.

Stroking the shovel rod as she does, with those knobby fingers of hers, twining the length, was patently suggestive. Soft rings resonate with each tug of her clewed hand, rubbing up and down, slow and thorough, what the fuck.

And worst–best of all? Eyes. Her sooty, pebble blown pupils thinning the evergreen in her eyes, pierced yours. Forbidding ones.

God, wary of reality or not– admit this, it was definitely hot. Hot, how her ashen lids embrace the snow and veins, a human cadre of gossamery skin. Hot, because they read debaucherous– and could carbonize a bible to cinders with a single glance, sacrilege to poetry, ergo; ‘Fuck me’ eyes. And lastly, hot, as they sat a throne upon a wicked smile, exposing her front teeth lightly, spit line attached top to bottom. In short, breathing you in, made her high off lust.

Asudden, the bow indenting her mouth is backwashed in a swallow, and her eyes disappear beyond the hood of her brow bone, captivating her soul upon a sigh. A sigh she breaks contact for, a sigh she must take, in lieu of composure– when all she perceived of you was a temptation.

A bastion of forced air swells up her cheeks, lukewarm on the gums, pouty of the lips, “Fffffffuck–” mouthed she full of that exhale, shaking her head to a low duck.

“Fuuck, what?” a mimic of her quiet curse befell your lips, curving tone and brow in confusion.

That's when her head perked, an inch, a slanted inch, bedeviled eyes divided by the drop of a short russet strand, mouth pursing to vowel out, “You.” hoarsely.

“Like ‘Fuck you bitch’ or in a ‘I'm gonna fuck you’ typa’ way?” you undulate your head cartoonishly, heightening the emphasis of both those options, cause both appeared likely.

Fluff of her brows crooking weirdly, she gawks with an inlay of temptations, bought, “That is the dumbest fuckin’–” she chuckles dryly, nose facing heavenward as she spins the shovel, going clockwise ‘round you, “–question, I've ever heard.”

Step by step, on beat, you slowly spun with her encirclement, noticing now that you're inclined to back up into the wall as she kitty–corners you, idle mitt pressing finger wads to textured wood, laying spread.The scratch of it smooches your shoulder blades as you smush plane on the wall, calves ghosting wales of wood coarse enough to leave blushy marks, and yet you rely on it to camouflage from her intimidating gaze.

A heartbeat hastens, brimming your throat with a blockage capable of consuming the words before ears could, tethering a timid gasp out instead.

Ellie rasped deep, “Cat got your tongue, hmm? Don't back down ‘n me now..” the heat of her face hovers close, cocking her head laterally to fit perfectly in your headspace, air blown from every syllable fanning your sutured mouth.

The weight her stare threw upon you was, probing, and direful. Every attempted scape–glance was a gut instinct, a reflex when shagged to a set of human bars. Flesh of bone, bone in flesh, arm to arm, what a bloody mess.

You curl your shoulders inwards, pressing folded elbows skin–tight to your ribs, “Dumbest question?” a gulp cuts the sentence, “you didn't even answer.”

“Want me to?”

“Yeah,” in defense, you tested her, “I do.”

“Ohhaha– okay..” Els’ cadence rose to amused laughter, shifting on her feet slightly, “We can fuck.” but she spoke it like you requested of it, although, did you?

Fuck.

A bulbous mass pushed your legs clean apart, trampiling the dress to a tight pull around your thighs. Confounded, you drop sights, sinking your chin in towards your neck and realizing– it was her knee.

Rough denim rustles clemently, a whisper of two fabrics meeting, between your quads. A friction so faint, so hush, begins to purr more acutely when a– ahh, pressure. A carnal pressure is given, given with urge, urging on your barely confined clit.

It stings as she drives her knee in, getting you to clench your insides, to seize up.

A juxtaposition doomed to interblend skin.

You impel up on the wall, heel sloping to rest on the flat trim. It smashed your pussy lips, causing a chafe, ramming fabric inside the rim of your hole, a velvety draw of sleek depressing on the cotton tongue of your panties makes it stay there. Thereupon, her groin grinds a roll, nudging your pussy on top of her knee.

“Remember this, babe?” Ellie gives thrall to the dense steel in her vocals, ticking her head aside more to pass that breath firmly on your ear, “–‘member how good my knee felt? Mhm? ‘So fuckin’ good’, you said?”

A diabolical coo, she's trying to get under your skin figuratively– and literally further.

But it surfaced that memory like a buoy, erecting ayond the navy sea line with its eye–catching signal. In you, it materializes. Last night, came a blanket of umbra, yawning its penumbra in the horizon. Witching hour, obscene–eyed, gloaming your senses and eating away at deceit. Deceived? Yeah, that's how you felt, daylight by day bright, a misinterpreter.

All throughout the day, she would ghost right past you en route to Dina, much like earlier– and love up on her. Spread her taint of arousal between you, her, and you, then her again. Leading on last night, where she stowed her knee, just like now, affirming how mortally she may succumb to madness without your vulnerable phasing unto her, except, in a casual way, short of poetry. On top of that continuous grind she gave on your groin, she marked you with a claim so bold,

So freakish, so outré.

Dirty with her perverted thoughts.

You remember it, hard.

‘You love me just as much as your pussy does, face it.’

Hence, her knee felt as fucking liberating as it did that stone stark night. Your clit throbs with an ache, coiling your womb in moreish begs, more, moree.. please more.

“I remember.” uttered softly, throat shutting on the words as you choke up in sensation.

A cordial chuckle blows summery hot on your ear, “Hehe, good,” and is soaked deeper in with a puckered kiss, popping quietly, “Good girl.”

That made you shiver, in a growing delight. A heat seeping between your folds, has you bearing down on her knee, slopping that raw precum all over the ruined seams of your underwear. In bodily reaction, your cunt shriveled in on itself, squelching a drop on barely–there textile– glossing a wet patch on the knoll of her knee.

Ellie espied that moistness saturating through her jeans and spreading warm on flesh when it seeps, slinking her leg a wimp inch out to gauge the spot, a fucking masterpiece, smack dab on her knee, “Fuck,” she spews, pinning teeth to lip, “for me?” she questions, even with an obvious ass answer staring her in the eyes.

Forget Dina, this felt right– too right.

“For you.”

Her teeth bare vast in a smirk, doubling up her cheeks, “God, I love you.” because finally, fucking finally, she will have her cake and eat it too.

But first, eat the space before you.

And so she does, tucking the wad of her nose squashed in the crevice of your nostril and cheek, brushing of her mildly cracked lips greet yours to part, a balmy ask of entrance. Wagging against, the skin barely hugs with cushy compress, then she nips your bottom lip and wedges her own between, indulging the bump of your cupid's bow to cradle a whisker inside her suckled hold– her humid realm of fog. Buds connected, she felt like butter searing, softness melting, disintegration inside your clasp of a satiny hole, and she was pungent of farmland, muck sweat, everything you could have prest for. Ellie pushes passion in the form of little spit bubbles down your throat– ingesting your voice, your taste, your brain, essence in whole. Taking each other in your own two gullets, bolts of song, and long gaping moans– and even longer pants of make–out exhaustion.

“Mhhh,” she shoves another groan to rattle your teeth, hopping over cloud nine with each moan you reciprocated– like music in a fairytale, a ballad, or of a siren song, splendidly spellbinding, yes? “–fhhck yeshh–” She hums, forwarding a buck of her knee fiendishly.

You yelped, and she liked that, an impish grizzle pushing past the swollen smile and drags saliva across yours.

But.

Those hands once empty, cannot lie powerless to being so. Hers, fly from the wall behind your head and trace down your biceps, buckling unfurled over the bulge of your loose breasts and cup them tender, giving a squeeze that dimples flesh above the neckline of your dress. Not a complaint rose from you, you liked it, yearned hard of it– loved it.

She could tell by the mere movement of your back, arching into her grasp, getting her fingers to squish them even flatter, laughing the kiss to a pause, “Look at you–” she hinds back to look at you, taking your eager rush to follow her lips into regard, “fucking cutie.”

“Don't call me cutie.” you astern.

“Why noott–”

“No.”

A grin enlightens her anyways, “Got it,” and slides her lip back between yours, suckling the plump of your upper, “Mhmm..” hummed so gravelly, so good on your ears, yummy.

This girl will be the first suspect of your murder. Murder of love.. in spring.

Adjourning the freshly–sown kiss with a sloppy smack, you interrupt, “Y'know–” mhhp, a quick peck, “–think I love you too.”

“Think?” she knits her brows together dumb on your featherly melded foreheads, squishing the grooves that form in–between, “could already tell from last night,” her rasp makes it sound of a patent fact, chuckling like an asshole when you whine amid her tease, “hmm–hm, sorry babe.”

“God, you're such a dick,” you bind your head lower and ghost your barren lips over her chin, smiling amongst your dim shadow.

Index and thumb of her hand thaw ripely of your chin, exerting under the bone and beckoning you up with a kind pull, “Would a dick do this–” she twines you to the left, “Mmph,” pasting a kiss beneath one eye, “or this,” twines you to the right, pasting another peck, “or even this?” and lastly, twines you faceward.

Patent of her pattern, you expect a delicate pair of those blood swell, pouty lips to spare something planets away from porny lust– a promise, that none of this was bad. However, hopes are dashed like a racehorse when your chin rears free and a blur of her auburn head plunges out of sight, and under the hood.

“Els’, where are you–”

Oh.

A gale of air spills up the gap of your thighs, sought upon by the whipping of your sundress’ hem up crinkled in her dual grasps, pushed against your hip bones. Knees grind in shallow dust, planting just next to your parked feet with a soft rub between the four, the perfect position, an orgasmic view. Ellie lets a gasp free upon eyeing the fat blotch soaked thoroughly to a glisten, fabric eased in your labia, showing her the shape of it. God, ‘think she saw you clench just now.

She balls the fabric to one hand, dropping her other and husking dry, “There she is– fuck, missed me?” a waggy finger rises to your clit, toying it in meager flicks– almost as to pet it.

A wince cries from you, “Ahh–” and you perk on your toes, inching away from her fingertip now padded in your sodden arousal.

Yet that fucking finger follows, pressing a hiemal print to flatten your bloated clit, clothed labia hugging the willowy knuckle. Cocky chuckle– likeness of her unabashed assholery and spilt through grit teeth, she muses in your clamping pussy lips, “Hehe, yeah? Need my fuckin’ fingers, huh?” and those damned coos, that tender tune, gosh– you can't get enough of it.

But you've had your fill of plaguing rumination.

Dina's away, nay a breath of her lingers here, not a peep of her can disrupt you, disrupt what you feel– how Els’ makes you feel. It's not wrong, if you're not the one suggesting it. It's not immoral, if it was never held in the hands of your intention. It's not your fault, if you let it transpire. Nothing to rue, not your sin, not your wrongdoing.

So you pluck the apple.

An ease of your quads down pricks your clit with the poke of her finger, cushing the delicate flesh, “Mhm– yes, yess.” whined you, nigh on breathless.

“That's right,” thick is her voice– like a coddling of wood thicket, pushing past the devout lips that embed themselves in the chub pliancy of your belly, lain of a smooch to your womb, a quiet one, “thaat's fuckin’ right.” and jerking your clit measured with tease, idly rubbing.

The gentle marrow of that contact with your belly and your clit, sent you aquiver. Your abdomen, shaking lightly against her mouth with a breath in, lading your stomach with a rise, high–strung by that simple kiss. Too sweet, you thought, sweetly toxified of honey, unorthodox to how hoggish she usually strikes as– you expected her usual playfulness.

Softness can be addictive, and her version of soft, definitely was.

“Soo fuckin’ good t'me..” her lips detach only to press back in, multiple times, same exact spot. She wouldn't dare budge, not when it was deemed her duty to kiss you there by some unknown force, or her own accord. Ellie whispers, lugging those honey–drug lips over the pouch of your belly, “need that good fucking pussy n’ my mouth.”

A tilt, a modest slant of your hips projecting your crotch against her collarbone was your ask of entrance, and she gave her answer so fast.

“Hold this,” she cranes the clump of skirt to one of your paws, letting go when you meet fingers over fingers with her and hold your skirt to your ribs. She stops playing with your clit completely, tracing said finger up your groin and under your pantyline, pleating the band in on itself as she journeys it to your knees– letting it freefall from there.

Despite the milk–warm weather lambent to your forehead when settled under the sun, meant zilch to the cooler world inside the barn. Not wintry, but a tangible change sensed in your bare pussy. That's why you fastened your quads to a clench, nearly sucking in your cunt– oh, and the fact that two olive fern eyes are bluntly viewing it. Stage fright, much?

A fried gasp of, “Ohh, shit–” chills it further with exhalation upon discovering the raw truth to your aroused pussy, engorged in size and pinkish in sex irritation. Ellie was drunken in that eyeshot of serumy precum wetting a film between your slit, drawing gluey webs over your hole, barely open for full study. She needs you open, she longs to see, gulping a horny thought audibly before speaking, “spread them pretty legs for me, hmm? C'mon, it's just me–” she assures, donning that calming placidity whilst palming the round of your knees apart to guide you, “–there we go, uh'huh, fuck..” departed of her voice, husky as she studied the open spread of your filthy hole, dripping for her like it fucking knew she was looking at it.

All you could engage was a tunneled stare down of your protruding crotch and her reddish–brown dusted crown, the slump your knees took clung on the flank of her biceps– plowing with an indent in her bare sun–baked skin. Els’ face so sanguine compared to the paler pigment of her fingers, which now push your thighs uncomfortably agape to the extent of bulging fat between her knuckles. Eyes bark, luring under lids so heavy and lashes like a vignette– they bark and say, ‘Keep your fucking legs open.’

Say no less.

Taken in awe, “She's so fucking pretty–” she curses with meaning, a means to make it known, licking up a river between your folds upon seeing that exhilarating view, cupping a glob of slick in her pink muscle.

“Shit..”

Withdrawing her tongue, she swallows the creamy delight, “Prettiest pussy ever, ‘uh'huh, that's right.” Ellie being Ellie, she slaps it, eyeballing the spongy skin recoiling.

“Ah!”

“Yeah..”

Your nude cunt was honeydew heaven in her eyes, gleaming wet like grapefruit, that's why her tongue was already slipping out on open air. Head inching to intimacy, the button of her nose dovetails seamlessly between the tippity top of your folds, and your clit, kissed with a hot spell. That bud, it fit perfectly in the wrapping of her lips, straightaway suctioned further into the gummy pucker of her mouth.

An ache zaps that little bouquet of nerves and coerces you to nearly swoon over it, yelp hitching, “Ha– aah,” and shudder teething, “Ellie..” with a hump of your glutes butting her head back, only stirring that hungry mouth of hers to pop off and swaddle it back in, tongue flicking.

Her nostrils sunk deeper in, airflow turning muffled in your crotch– yet her moans remained, abounding, vibrating on your sensitive pearl, “Mhhhh, mhmm.” rumbling deep under the soft squelching her moving jaw brought to fruition.

Ellie, you fucking god, giving those plumate licks that are barely there, but scarily paired with deftness, getting you to squirm and squeal, “Yess– baby, yess..” That pink muscle snagging under the hood sometimes, smacking that pretty tiny clit of yours around with foams of flavor whisking onto her taste buds, humming in the notes of sex.

“Mhhh, fhhck.” her lips sever an inch, mumbling into your clit, “fuck you and your pretty little hole, god, fuck you.” she curses, cause how dare you let her impulses conquer, returning a trio of digits along your legs and swiftly finding your pussyhole, dilating the lips apart and shoving all three inside. How dare you, engross her ears in your moans echoing akin of a cathedral in her skull, ushering her to fuck you unholy.

“Ellie!” you wail, hoisting on your toes a second and clutching her in those slobbering walls– which only gushed a leak of arousal on her digits, and blocked her from further thrusting slightly, taken aback by the sudden stretch.

Her lips pop off again, slurping up the wet laces strung to her pout from your fattened labia, “Schlp– jesus, you are fucking tight,” the deepness rippled in her voice, groggy from the moist caking her gob, “let me in, don't push me out.. c'mon..” she coos gently, eyeballing the swallow her fingers took past your soaked lips, knuckles disappearing.

“O–ohh,” you tried to mouth ‘okay’, but the word just didn't fit the part.

“Just like that..” Ellie cools a fresh sigh, praising with a proud curl on her face, “Good fuckin’ pussy..”

Letting go, your gut loosens and heightens the sensation of her skinny fingers bottoming soundly inside your vagina, feeling the callouses rub as they curl and tickle your angelsent spot, airing lips find purchase behind her fingers– and a pointy nose bumps your clit pervaded with purpose.

Spry is the moan, moaning over ‘spilled milk’, “Oh my g– uhnn..” woe is you, clawing phantomly at the spring that coils inside your womb, unknowingly providing Ellie's eager mouth with your precum.

The physical reality around you, suddenly only consisted of you, her, the barrier that stills your back, and a void inside you– being filled.

Literally.

And figuratively? Cause jeez, you must give sanctuary to a sin–eating, fleshoid beast inside your bone prison of a body, coming back here for seconds like that.

Might you be the dirty.. dirty dog instead?

Rivers of filth, she pumps those glossy droplets out of you, leathery scars caressing your ribbed canal with each pleasuring undo of your senses, she steals them like they are impartial to your bliss– bliss is all she needed you to feel for her. Fuck the worry, trash the heartache, yank the anxiety out, and soften into a pretty blob atop her fingers.

Her sultry blessing sitting upon those fingers, that's how she deems you– you do well to remember that. Her, willing frame of hips thrusting back down on the friction she gives, burrowing her nose a scent so naturally seducing, a pheromone, fucking elates her own throbbing pussy. Nothing sugary, nothing stomach–churning, just the taint of you. The threading of her jean's crotch was enough of a brute, bullying her egged clit by driving a split in it, flattening the fleshy hood everytime she shifted weight from knee to abdomen, poor her.

“Huhnn– shit,” heaved grizzlier in her carp of stimulation decay, lack thereof rubbing one out herself and watching your delicate skin expand and crease. How could you blame her– her hand looked so right plugging your hole.

You suck your belly in, drawing tense on that thickset motion playing with your g–spot, whimpering, “Els’, please.. I can't..” a well floods in your waterline, searing with tears of crystalline iodine.

You really can't.

That scruffy mullet hides most of her big cranium, but, it was so fucking hot seeing the nominal stroke of her face, blushing strawberries betwixt your butter–spread legs. Her nose bobs north and south, dragging the bulb of cartilage over that nippy rosebud she happily exhales onto, pushing you over the earthly edge born of paltry touching. Ellie cognizes the slick–clear gospel that you were pending climax, manifesting as your needy bear downs into her slopping mouth practically lactating your pussy juices deep in the pit of her stomach, and the swelling of your wooed clit led on by her tongue, growing big and reddish on her nose to where it clasps the tip in a pillowy fashion, dabbing a glob of creamy sap.

A mouthquake splutters wetness mixed with her spit across your inner–thighs abd vibrates your folds, betrothal of her voice waking back up, sourly muted, “She's– suh good.. mhphh– to me..”

“Ellie..” you falter on breath, leavening in pitch.

“Phh–” a frothy sound garbled in your pussy lips, pushing her spit bubbles inside your gaping hole and traveling deeper with her fingering you, “makin’ this pushhy’ mine..” flubbed she, lapping up her cupid's bow of smeared sleek.

Your hole clamps her in as the pang begins to tick its patchy count of time, wearing the glass knot of your womb to a cracking, and troubling the base of her digits.

“Fuck, you wanna’ make this harder?” she sterned to the velvety rim of you locking on her triple shafts, porking webs of your pre–finish to teardrop down your walls as her palm splashes against your loch–sodden slit and mashes your g–spot repeatedly, plush of your labia bouncing in ripples. The noises were abundant, and pornographic, mushy as she fixes so much of your arousal on the pads of her fingers, hormones spiking at the lewd noises, “you hear that baby, ooh, fuck.” foxily ‘ooed’ that foxy–maned girl, beguiled in how your pussy spurts for her.

It wept in slaps, eliciting a palping squelch to bang, bang– bang– pound, brandishing a chilly tempest through and through your bloating labia, quivering as it readies to release. The stuffing was intimate– like a punch inside your spirit, coaxing the fragile glass to a rend, ergo, pushing out every lash of pure lucid squirt.

On the beat of your hole gushing, yelps batting you shut in the plain intensity such an orgasm brought forth, tore Ellie from simply just watching– to drinking every drop. Her voice, dusky in the backdrop of your wails sounded, “Yes– yess, babe fuckk that's it.. mhm, all over my fuckin–” her words wane as her lips clock in, a sudden rush of void fleets with her fingers sheathing out, drawing a long lubricous bunch of webbing only to be nourished in the warmth of her mouth– pursing into your labia and shaking about as you squirt.

Ellie has no shame in getting soiled of you, even the devil himself blushed at the linkness of her mid–face pancaking your lissom skin apart, spewing you wide.

“Ah! Nuh– nonono, t'much, too– uhhnn..” your throat fails you, clumping wads of words that wanted to breach, but her mouth was too good, and it's fucking obvious that she wouldn't stop, not when she can have you like this, bucking onto her flat tongue. Sinfully good, disgusting in the rawest fashion, making your crotch burn with ecstasy more than it already did.

Water upon the push of her mouth, blowing in and slopping noisily at the meat of your pussy lost it's carry to your ears. A biome of shadow, veils your vision and a pressure rains less than tender between your eyes, blurring everything before you, ebbing the grasp of your skirt to an impossible job, hands ashake. All you could gauge above the hood was fiery sweat, hot, steaming– taunting sweat, licking at your forehead.

Her nose headbutts into your vagina, slinking languidly as her head finally smacks off your numb folds, laughing, “Holy fuck– y'taste so good,” the air windy to your soaked entrance, convulsing in front of her barren eye, “shoulda’ let me lick you sooner.”

Huff, and puff, until the binds of your chest blow down, sprouting with an entire current of air, panting more than dramatic as you dwindle down like a bird's plume, “Too.. huh– haah, bad.”

A new kiss is savored to your clit, absorbing the snift her snort gave, “Haha– yeah yeah, n'you liked it, don't lie.”

No lie was home to call. You’ve a truthful virtuality.

You truly did like it, love it, cave obsession over that moment– for now it passes, and not a peck of guilt ran prickly on your arm hairs, saving your gullet free of a stony gulp. No crows died in the revelation of your scandal, only doves, encirclement in a trance chirping nuptials to be had.

I really do love you, Ellie.

Is that so bad?

“I can’t catch my– oof,” you grab sudden air with your fructifying lungs, “–can’t catch my fuckin’ breath.” and the struggle was visible, muscles like puppet strings to your fingers losing proper grasp and billowing the skirt plop on her head.

The rotund shape of it wiggles from the draping hem, continuing to laugh when her wet–handed fingertips poked thin on your ankle, bulging on both sides as she drew your panties back up all the way, slithering under your skirt’s canopy and stretching the band to a snap on your hips, skin tiding, jerking you off warning, which for sure winded the breath back in ya.

“Sheesh, no care for my panties at all?” remarked you of fun wit, gliding your thumb apart to rub the bend of your hip crest.

“You literally ruined them before–”

“And whose fault is that?” you winched from the barn wall and met pupil–to–pupil with her rising figure, revealing how slick–fucked her face really is, glossing with evidence of your cunt.

“Mine..” proudly, guilt was basal to her tone, nonexistent, inching closer to you with a slight wobble swaying on her heels.

You hark the crunch of gravel below, but keep your gaze airborne, Ellie–borne, “Exactly.”

“Cause m'hot?”

“No,” you rock your head, evil smirk deepening the corners of your lips to your gums, “that's a dumb question.”

Her arms begin to slink at fore, elbows chafing her flank, “Wow, stole my line.”

“Still dumb.” you pinch the neckline of her tank, straining it up to wipe her mouth clean.

“Coulda’ just used my hand.” she still does, the dork, purging any excess to the hill of her bent wrist.

You scrunch your nose fakely, “Uck,” and express, mumbling, “Bring a rag next time.”

Her hands then drop, creeping towards your sides, “Didn't think we were gonna–”

“Liar.”

Those strapping hands bend with wrinkles in her knuckles as they plant pleasantly on your hips, fingernails curling with lustier keys, tugging you plane on her body, “You're so fucking cute,” is all she could say, because there was no stem of denial baying for a different answer,

Doing this was always lingering a tail on her thoughts.

“And such a bitch, fuuck– want you so bad,” complained she, pushing the last of her grizzled groans past her blood–swell lips, which now dive in the sweaty nook of your swan neck– bespattering the sensitivity, “–need y’so bad..”

You comb a paw of fingers through her honey–cresten mane, dividing strands apart and giving a fond press to her scalp, whispering upon her pale–rosen ear, “Then have me–”

“I can’t,” her crumbled lips fail to cling, dragging dry beneath your ear, “I fucking can’t.” wearily said, wearing her voice to nothing.

Infidelity.

Wasn't nice at all, on both sidewalks.

A purer bid of tears wet her cheek, drenching into the flesh of your neck as she pushes into you, holding you dear, vast afar from intentions to let go.

“I know..” was a rare comfort, and wasn't one to you right now– for plucking that apple, ripped you of innocence. A blind eye you turn when sensuality is awake. Enrapture chokes your senses, sweeps you in the moment, clouds your memory of those ugly, nasty etceteras– those facets that deplore it. Even now, when Ellie collapses weight onto her ankles, pressing you into that same wall you saw heaven on, touching heartbeats incandescent for each other's total consumption, weeping wet on your bare shoulder– it hurts, aches you to say, “But I don't want to know.”

Clutch of your neckline, she bruises her knuckles tight in it, spiteful almost– gagging on tears that roll the wrong road, “Guh– fucking hell, don't say that..”

“Ellie, it's–”

“Don't.”

“Not your fault.” you flap your fingers up, palm still glued, patting her head.

She doesn't belong to you.

Yet you act like she does.

Pity.

A sniffle is the intake of air you feel before her nose skims off, craning her neck to an angle where she can gaze adjacent to your cheek, for beholding may prove a demise. But she can't forgo this one ask, this dream perched upon her brain, “Babe..” she purrs, dead of cadence.

“Hmm?” a whirl invites your nose to her cheekbone, offering you the picture of her side–profile. Oh, those lashes so dashing, they curl, darken her snow of eye, and trap tears.

Why, it's as if a rainbow overcasts those auburn reeds.

Ellie's capsized tune finds its stream back to that scratchy rasp, silkenly intoning on your earlobe, “Can you sleep with me tonight?” her buds ghost the rim, popping on the syllables.

Is that even possible?

You debate with the figments in your mind, casting doubt over your facial muscles, knitting, “Ellie, you know–”

“I don't.”

“Els.”

Long forked strokes of her fingers run up your jaw, scrolling you to then focus on her face cocooning your entire sight, and a husk enlaces you, “Forget about Dina,” a glimmer summons her lips to curl once again, “just tonight, fucking please?”

Fucking please.

A silence rots in the cordial space sparsely separating you, wrenching her brows with a ravine indenting between them– the serious look you love. And her hold of hands appear to deepen in your cheeks, claiming your skin as one, melting into her prints, squeezing a reply from you.

“Please?”

Odds may dote on you, think about this.

“Okay.”

(couldn't tag everyone who wanted to be)

taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @savannahsdeath @beforeimdeceased @fleshunger @williamellieslilho @mcqueeferson @pretty-prrincess-13 @naomis-daydream @weridcatttyy @gold-dustwomxn @evera-era @criminallydownbad @yohibmbi @ang3licpretty

777 notes · View notes

tonysbed · 2 months

Text

million noises | OP81

Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

!AUTISTIC READER!

Summary: You have a meltdown at the paddock but your boyfriend comes to the rescue

warnings: meltdown, crying , oscar is so sweet AHG

a/n: more oscar autistic!reader coming your way this week ☝️ Also not proofread 👹

mental health masterlist | main masterlist

Oscar Piastri glanced at her as they walked through the Formula One paddock. The vibrant energy of the place was something he loved, but he knew it could be overwhelming for her. She had always been open about her autism, and he admired her strength in navigating new and challenging environments.

You were doing your best to keep up with Oscar's enthusiastic explanations of the day's events. You weren’t really into Formula One, but you loved seeing Oscar's eyes light up whenever he talked about it. Over the past few months, you had slowly started to appreciate the sport more, if only because it was such a big part of his life.

Today, however, the paddock was especially crowded and loud. Reporters, fans, and team members seemed to be everywhere at once, and the constant noise of engines and chatter filled the air. You could feel your anxiety building. Your fingers twitched at your sides, longing for the comforting feel of your stim toys that were tucked away in Oscar’s bag.

As they approached the McLaren garage, the noise and activity became too much.Y/n‘s breaths became shallow, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. She squeezed Oscar's hand tightly, her eyes wide with distress.

Oscar immediately noticed. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly, guiding her to a quieter corner behind the garage. "Let's take a moment."

But the sounds and sensations were too overwhelming, and your panic escalated into a full meltdown. She sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Oscar knelt beside her, his heart aching to see her in such distress. He quickly reached into his bag and pulled out her noise-canceling headphones and favorite stim toy—a soft, squishy ball she loved. He gently placed the headphones over her ears, and handed her the toy.

"Sweetheart, I'm here. Focus on the toy and breathe with me," he said softly, his voice calm and steady.

You clutched the stim toy, squeezing it rhythmically as she tried to match Oscar's deep, slow breaths. The noise-canceling headphones muted the overwhelming sounds of the paddock, allowing her to slowly regain control.

You hated when this happened, feeling as if Oscar had to walk on eggshells around you. His finger tangled into yours “Okay?” You hummed and slowly slipped off the headphones, noises not as overstimulating anymore.

He helped you up to your feet “Baby, you wanna stay in my driver room? You can watch from there” You sigh, hoping you didn’t have to “Come on. It will be alright.”

He led you to his driver room, setting everything up, getting you snacks and drinks. He gently kissed your temple “How about we take the side entrance next time to avoid all these people, hm?”

“But what about the content and-“ He shushed you “I’ll talk to Zak. Lando has enough spotlight so it won’t even be that noticeable”

You nod “Okay, be safe” He smiled “Always for you” You quickly pecked his lips before he had to go and race.

Not the longest but..hope it’ll do 💃☝️

#oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #autistic!reader #formula one imagine

211 notes · View notes

7ndipity · 7 months

Text

Them With An Autistic S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle/react to their S/o being on the spectrum.

Warnings: Mentions of sensory issues, feeling over/under stimulated, depression, meltdowns, stimming.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! This is a list I’ve actually wanted to write for a while, but I’d been slightly nervous/unsure about it. But as someone who’s also on the spectrum, I know how much comfort similar posts from other blogs have brought me! I also tried to keep this one a bit lighter, since someone asked for a separate list about meltdowns/shutdowns, but if there’s any specific reactions/hcs like this that you guys want, let me know! (Please note that these are based off my own knowledge/experience, so I’m sorry if they don’t fit for everyone)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I feel like he’d be slightly confused and worried at first because he’s not sure what to do/how to help you, but once you explain a bit more, he gets a lot more comfortable, and really is such a good caregiver when he needs to be.

Catches onto your different stims pretty quickly and what each one means.

Like, y’all have whole conversations solely through funny little hums and stim noises.

Really good at reading and matching your mood/energy. You wanna talk about the Mayans nonstop for two hours? Cool! You want to just sit silently and do nothing? Also cool!

He’s really good at normalizing your symptoms and making them seem like nbd(because to him, they aren’t) Food sensitivities? He’s got them too! You hate loud noises and crowds? Same Honey, let’s get the fuck outta here! He knows they’re not quite the same thing, of course, but if it makes you feel more comfortable and safe being your true, unmasked self with him, then that’s all that matters to him.

Really good at calming you down when you feel overwhelmed or on the verge of meltdown.

Does his absolute best to bring your mood up whenever you’re struggling or feeling really down, pulling out his best dad jokes(even if they don’t make sense to you), bringing your favorite snacks, etc.

Yoongi:

I think he would handle it really well. Does his research after you tell him, and asks you about it casually during dates/hangouts.

So fucking respectful of your boundries. If you prefer to have your own space, he’s totally fine letting you do your own thing. If you need more closeness and cuddles, he’s all over that too, letting you sit right next to him while he works.

Not only lets you rant about your special interests, but makes the effort to take interest in them and asks questions. Randomly buys you little things related to them.

He’s so calming and soothing when you’re feeling stressed or overstimulated, understanding whenever you randomly need rest or quiet time(stress nap buddies)

Keeps things like extra sunglasses and headphones in his bag for you, just in case you forget yours.

Would have a lot of fun if you have audio stims, letting you listen to his new songs because your reactions and enthusiasm are so cute to him. Makes you panning audios as gifts.

Always there to look out for you whenever executive dysfunction decides to kick your ass. Washes the dishes, doing the laundry, restocking your safe foods, etc. He would also be really good at body doubling.

Hobi:

I honestly think he would be really good with an S/O on the spectrum. Like, he literally designed Mang, who is soo ND coded like omg😭, so I think he would be able to understand you really well.

(if you haven’t seen the videos of him talking about Mang’s personality and character traits during the re-design process last year, pls go watch them, I almost cried)

Loves buying you new fidgets and stim toys whenever he finds new ones to try(he even has a collection of chewlery that he wears bc he thinks they’re neat).

Is really good reading you and distracting you when you start to get overstimulated or anxious, sometimes noticing before you do.

Lowkey protective over you in spaces and situations he knows are stressful for you, positioning himself next to you whenever he spots things he knows bother you.

You know how Yoongi described him as a vitamin? That’s how it is for you now too.💛

He’s so stimmy himself, so he would find a lot of your stims really relatable and endearing. Like, if you start happy stimming, he can’t help but join right in, bouncing or squealing with you. It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable enough with him to share those parts of yourself with him.

Namjoon:

Instantly super supportive when you told him, making an effort to research on his own, as well as listening to your personal experiences to understand as much as possible.

Happily sits and lets you info-dump about your special interests. He honestly loves seeing you so passionate and animated about whatever you’re talking about and loves getting a glimpse into how your mind works(it was probably during one of these moments that he realized he was in love with you)

Surprisingly good pebbler, he’s always finding cool rocks or shells for your collections.

Doesn’t mind speaking for you on days when you’re nonverbal.

The sweetest when you’re feeling overstimulated. He closes all the curtains to make it dark and cozy and sits with you, talking as softly as needed or not talking at all, tapping your hand gently now and then to let you know he’s still there.

Soo protective over you, almost to a fault at times. Like, you might have to scold him once or twice about babying you, but he really doesn’t mean to, he just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy.

The world feels a lot less scary tho with him next you. You know if you need anything, he’s got your back.

Jimin:

The softest boi🥺 He was honestly a little scared when you first told him, because he didn’t want to do anything wrong and was worried he wouldn’t be ‘good’ at looking after you, but he quickly relaxed and grew more confident as he learned more from you.

The best comforter when you’re feeling overwhelmed or depressed, full of quiet reassurances and long hugs(if you’re okay with those). He’ll gladly cuddle with you under your weighted blanket for however long you need to feel better.

Literally set up a little “nest” for you at his place with a like beanbag chair and your favorite types of blankets/pillows, so you have your own place to just ‘be’ and recoup when you need it.

Carries fidget toys and sensory aids like sunglasses and headphones with him at all times, just in case you need them.

Really good at communicating with you on days when you’re nonverbal, whether through texts or little notes(which he always adds little doodles on to make your smile😊)

Makes sure you never feel guilty or like a burden to him for letting him in on those tougher days. If anything, they make him love you even more because of the trust you have in him.

It really makes him feel so proud and happy inside that you find so much comfort in his presence and that he gets to take care of you.💜

Taehyung:

Another that I think would be particularly good with a neurodivergent S/O. Like, everyone jokes about how he’s weird, so I think he’d love that you’re both your kind of own unique kinds of ‘weird’.

Happily rewatches your favorite comfort shows/films with you, and speaks in fluent film quotes with you.

Loves when you fidget and stim with his hands or fingers.

If you like pressure stims, he’s a dream come true. Like, the man’s a living weighted blanket, so when you basically give him a doctor's note for cuddles? He’s never gonna let you go.

As relaxed as he might come across sometimes tho, he’s super observant of your stims and triggers and takes it so seriously whenever you start feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you need a break, he’s getting you to a quiet place where you can sit and just recalibrate.

Rivals Jin and Yoongi for top spot in the acts of service department on your bad days, making sure you eat properly, doing any household chores that need done. He even learned how to wash your weighted blanket so you don’t have to.

Jungkook:

Was definitely a little lost and overwhelmed when you first explained everything to him, but he really takes it in stride and tries to learn as much as possible to help make things easier for you where he can.

The King of comfort squeezes. Like you’ve seen his arms, he gives the best hugs, I just know it(especially on those “the weighted blanket isn't enough, I need a hydraulic press” days)

Loves learning about your special interests. Like, It’s no longer just your special interest, it’s our special interest. He’s even studying and finding things for it on his own to surprise you with.

Honestly plays with some of your fidget toys more than you do, lol! You might even end up giving him a few of his favorites😊

Gets super happy and smiley whenever you get echolalia of his songs.

Another member of the protective squad, ain’t no bad stimuli getting to his baby if he can help it!

The gentlest with you when you're overstimulated or having a tough day. Anything you need, he’ll do without question. All he cares about is making sure that you feel safe and comfortable🥺

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

293 notes · View notes

megalony · 11 months

Text

They're Joined

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by Anon, thank you for this I love writing dramatic, angst pieces. I hope you like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe

911 Masterlist

Summary: After a day trip, the Diaz family are on their way home when they get caught up in a crash. The 118 work to get them out when their lives are in danger.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile lit up (Y/n)'s face as she slowly turned in her seat to look behind her in the back of the car. Her gaze fell on her son and she smiled brighter as she watched him for a few moments.

He was in his carseat, biting down on his thumb and rocking his head and chest back and forth, lightly bashing into the seat. He had a big smile morphed around his thumb and his legs were swinging back and forth, catching his shoes on her seat but she didn't mind. He was ecstatic.

It had been a long time since Chris had visited a zoo and the hour and a half drive had been more than worth it to see his face light up. He had zoomed around on his crutches, never tiring even though he had been walking about for hours. Every so often Eddie had picked him up and sat him on his shoulders to give him a break or let him get a better view of the animals.

His favourite had been the penguins, which was why he had a stuffed penguin toy tucked under his arm, pinned against his chest. (Y/n) had worried they wouldn't be able to get him to leave the zoo but he had been hungry and the promise of a takeaway for tea was enough to get him back in the car.

He had been stimming for the last hour.

Every now and then a squeal would break through over the noise of the radio or Chris would push back in his seat and rock so much the carseat started to creak and bash. But his parents were used to it and his happy stimming like this always made them smile.

(Y/n) slowly turned back round and shuffled down in her seat, relieved they were only twenty minutes away from home now. It had been a long day and she wanted to get out of the car and get something to eat.

Just when she reached her hand over to hold Eddie's thigh, her eyes widened and her lips parted silently. She caught Eddie's eye, noticing his raised brows and he tilted his head to look in the rear view mirror. Chris was doing echolalia.

"Then we were running and I ran-"

(Y/n) couldn't make out the rest of what Chris was saying, each word was said faster and faster until he was messing up his pronouncing and mashing the words together. His voice got higher as he continued to repeat a few random, unrelated phrases he had heard until he stopped himself and screamed excitedly.

It wasn't very often that Chris would do his echolalia during the day, it mostly happened at night when he was trying to fall asleep. It was a condition where Chris would repeat words and phrases he had heard, some of them recent and some of them could have been from months ago. He didn't understand what he was saying, it was just his brain processing and repeating and it usually happened at night when he was excited and winding down to sleep.

They had heard him say a lot of random things over the years and it was surprising how Chris could talk in full sentences when he was doing his echolalia. But then when he was talking properly to them or at school, he didn't always use enough words or use adjectives or connecting words. He was a lot slower at talking when he was engaged in conversation whereas like this, he talked so fast even he couldn't work out what he was saying.

Eddie had started to watch what he said around his son after hearing him one night repeat 'he ran into the fucking fire' followed by a loud giggle. It was surprising what Chris could hear and remember.

"Someone's happy,"

"He won't be sleeping tonight," Eddie reached down for (Y/n)'s hand that was on his thigh and raised the back of her hand to his lips. They knew this would be a possibility when they decided on a day trip out but it was worth it to have Chris so happy and elated like this.

"Yeah but we already knew that."

The next scream that Chris let out, (Y/n) and Eddie joined in too; but for a completely different reason.

***

Something burned in Chimney's stomach and ignited deep in his chest, causing his steps to falter when he got closer to the crash site. He could feel his breaths getting clogged up in his throat and the med bag on his shoulder started to slip when his shoulders sagged down and his feet went from running to a floppy shuffle.

He knew that truck, he had seen it hundreds of times in the car park behind the station.

He moved his hand to grab the med bag that was almost falling to the floor and he picked his feet up. Shuffling awkwardly through the mess of cars that had slammed on their brakes and spun to a stop to avoid the pile up in front of them.

"Oh fuck," Tears were already welling up in his eyes without seeing the damage or commotion that was happening inside the truck.

That was Eddie's truck.

There wasn't a lot of space around the truck, it was banged up pretty good. The passenger side was slammed up into the concrete barrier separating both sides of the motorway and there was another car wedged up at the back of the driver's side. There was only a small angle of room where Chimney would be able to open the driver's door and try to get in and help. They couldn't even pull the truck forward because another car was rammed into the engine that was smoking and making a clicking, whirling noise that didn't sound good.

He dropped the bag to the floor and yanked on the door handle until it swung open and slammed into the empty car next to it. There was just enough space for Chimney to climb up onto the small step and lean inside the truck to see what was going on.

He didn't like what he saw.

Eddie was in the driver's seat, slumped forward onto the steering wheel with his left arm bent around the wheel and his right arm stretched out towards the passenger seat.

Reaching down, Chimney pressed a finger to his neck, relieved to feel a strong pulse and hear his deep breaths.

"Alright Eddie, help's here." He pushed himself higher on the step to try and see over Eddie's back towards the passenger seat. "(Y/n), can you hear me?" A groan from Eddie was the only response he got.

He could barely see (Y/n), she was slumped against the door, her hair fanned across her face hiding her from sight but Chimney could see glass littering her body. The window had broken as had the windscreen. She was slightly hunched over and if the seatbelt wasn't bound around her, Chimney could see she would have fallen down into the footwell.

"Christopher? Hey, you with me?"

Chris wasn't responsive either. He had his glasses slung around his neck, his chin pressed down into his chest with his head slumped forward and his arms crossed loosely over his chest and a teddy slumped between his legs.

Oh dear.

"Attention, I need a lot of backup over the East side of the pile up to the black Ford truck. Guys, it's Eddie. Repeat, Eddie and family are trapped unresponsive in the truck. Bring the saw."

He would need a lot of help getting all three of them out of here and he needed the metal saw or cutters or something like the winch to get enough room to get them all out. If they had spinal injuries, they might have to hoist them through the windscreen.

When another groan left Eddie's lips, Chimney could have cried in happiness, it would be more helpful to have Eddie awake and able to tell them what hurt and see if he had internal damage. But if he was awake and his family wasn't, it was also going to make the situation a lot harder for everyone.

"Eddie, it's Chim. Take it easy, I'm gonna ease you back and check you over, the team's all here to get you out."

He braced his hand on Eddie's chest and held the back of his neck before he slowly helped him sit back up in his seat. It would be easier to assess and talk to him if he was upright instead of slumped over like that.

Eddie started to blink and he twitched his head away when he felt unfamiliar hands on his neck trying to assess whether he had any spinal damage or nerve damage. He didn't. He could feel his legs, he could wiggle his toes in his shoes if he wanted to and every part of his body was on fire but he was waking up and that was good. His vision blurred for a while and he jerked his arm when he felt Chimney pressing on his chest that felt like it was tight and aching.

"Can you move your toes for me Eddie?"

"Yeah," It hurt like Hell, but he tapped his feet up and down against the pedals as he felt Chimney turn the engine off for safety.

"Eddie!"

"W-where the fuck am I?" He shook his head but it only made the unbalanced feeling get worse and turned the world on its axis. He could hear Buck calling out for him over the dull ringing in his ears.

"You're in the car, you've had a collision but we're gonna get you out, just hang tight." Chimney patted his shoulder before he jumped down and leaned over to talk to Bobby. "I can't get to (Y/n), she's unresponsive and Chris doesn't look too bad but he's unconscious in the back. Eddie's waking up,"

"Alright, Hen break the back window and get Chris checked out. Buck switch with Chim to get Eddie out and Chim, you and me will get on the engine and check (Y/n) through the windscreen. Go."

The truck was rammed in at all angles, the only way to get in the back would be to break the boot window and climb over to get Chris checked over. If he had no spinal or nerve injuries it would be a lot easier to get him out they could break the back window and ease him through that way. Eddie could get through the small opening in his door and wait near an ambulance if they could get him that far.

And for (Y/n), they were going to have to climb onto the truck and go through the already broken windscreen.

As soon as Eddie's horrendous roar emmited through their ears, Chimney moved and Buck hopped between the cars to get to the door and see what was going on.

"Eddie, hey it's Buck it's me! Let's get you out of here and I can help (Y/n), come on-"

"No!"

"Eddie I have to-"

"I can't- I c- Fuck!" Tears spilled down Eddie's face and he slammed his head back into the headrest and pummeled his left fist into the dashboard beside the steering wheel. He let his aching head flop to the right to look at his wife but when he heard the engine groaning from the team climbing up, his eyes shot up to look at Bobby. "Don't touch her!" His elbow flew into Buck to get him off before he reached up and held his arm out towards them.

"We need to check her over-"

"We're stuck!"

"Cap, they um… they're joined." Chimney crouched on his hands and knees as he leaned his head through the windscreen, being careful of the broken glass but he could see why Eddie was suddenly panicking.

In the struggle, Eddie had reached his arm out to try and help pin (Y/n) back in her seat so she didn't get whiplash or fly onto the dashboard. When metal chunks went flying through the windscreen, a long, thin shard of metal punctured through the middle of Eddie's hand and went into (Y/n)'s lower chest. They were pierced together, the team couldn't move Eddie without moving (Y/n) at the same time.

They were pinned.

"I'm gonna take a look I won't move either of you, okay?"

Chimney leaned his chest onto the dashboard and laid down so he could reach them easier.

The first thing he had to do was check (Y/n)'s pulse and her breathing. She had a pulse, her heartbeat was fluctuating and uneven but it was there and that was all he needed right now. He could see her chest rising and falling beneath Eddie's hand that was splayed out on her chest. Chimney kept his hands steady and firm and stretched his arms out towards them.

His hands patted over (Y/n)'s neck, shoulders and then down towards her legs before he moved back up to her chest.

"She's got a few broken ribs," He couldn't hide the grimace from his face when he pressed around (Y/n)'s hips and her torso. "I think her pelvis is broken. The metal is below her heart which is good, it might have pierced her stomach though. We have to move quick."

He couldn't add pressure to the wound and he couldn't cut off her blood supply because of where the wound was. (Y/n) needed circulation to the rest of her body, there was no way to cut off her blood supply to stem the bleeding like there would be if the metal was in her arm or her leg.

"W-what about Chris?"

"Hen how's Chris doing?" Bobby rested his hands on his knees and peered through to try and see Hen who was now sat in the back of the car next to Chris.

"Fractured arm, possible concussion but some glass had cut open an artery in his leg. I'm gonna have to do a stent and tie off his leg before we get him out."

"Oh God," Eddie tipped his head back and smothered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from screaming. He kept his palm pressed tightly to his mouth, morphing the Spanish prayer his mother used to use in times of crisis because if there were such things as miracles, Eddie sure as Hell needed one right now.

He darted his eyes back over to (Y/n) the moment he felt Chimney touching his impaled hand which flinched and twitched in response.

"It's a clean cut, looks like it's missed the main bones. Eddie, I'm gonna have to pull your hand off of the metal and (Y/n). The metal has to stay in her to stem the bleeding but we can pack and bandage your hand for the ambulance journey."

"Do it."

"I'll get you a shot of-"

"Just rip it off, we don't have time to fuck about. Get my wife out of here,"

He wasn't bothered about a shot of morphine which Eddie knew from experience would do very little to take the edge off. The most it would do was make him feel limp and lethargic and he couldn't afford to be anything other than awake and alert. He had to be with his family and keep watch over them. (Y/n) was the one who would need a shot of pain relief if she started to wake up from this.

Eddie wanted her in the ambulance as quick as they could manage.

"Alright, here we go." Chimney carefully strapped a neck brace around (Y/n) and tilted her head back before he rummaged around in his med bag Bobby handed over to him.

Eddie watched with pained eyes as Chimney cut a strip up the middle of (Y/n)'s top and ripped it away from the metal punctured through them both. A clean view was needed to pull Eddie's hand away and try to keep the metal as still within (Y/n) as possible so she didn't get any internal damage. His left hand curled around the steering wheel and he hissed through his teeth when he felt saline and a solution being squirted all around his hand and over (Y/n)'s chest and stomach.

"Keep your arm still and let me move your hand,"

He didn't need telling twice but he wished he had something to bite down on just in case either (Y/n) or Chris could still hear what was going on. He hated to scream in front of them but the pain was burning and it dragged out because Chimney had to move slow. At least when Eddie had been shot at, it had been quick and countered out by adrenaline.

Carefully and slowly, Chimney pulled Eddie's hand up until it squelched off the metal and was finally free. He handed Eddie's hand over to Bobby who washed it down in more solution before packing gauze to either side and wrapping a bandage tightly round to keep the pressure.

"Eddie we need you out so we can get a back board in there and move her."

"No, no I'll get her out with you," He flung his belt off to the side and shifted round in his seat, muffling a groan when he felt his knee twist and spasm. It was either dislocated or broken and Eddie hoped for the first.

He could do this. He was awake, alert and no longer punctured into his wife, he could get her out of here and he could help Hen get Christopher out if she needed assistance with that. He wasn't standing by like some idiot who didn't know what he was doing. He was part of this team and this was his job, they did this every day, it wasn't that much different. Eddie was just sitting on the other side of the line this time.

A silent look passed between Bobby and Buck and with a nod of his head, Bobby gave the order.

Eddie couldn't help with this. He was hurt, in pain and he was concussed, not to mention this was his family and he wasn't on shift. They wouldn't be liable if (Y/n) got injured during the process of getting her out and it was found out that Eddie helped get her out.

He was too close.

"Wh- no! Get off me! Let me GO!"

Scream after scream flew past Eddie's lips and he flung his arms out to grab the door frame when Buck held him under his arms and started to tug him out of the truck. He had to get out, they had to be quick and get (Y/n) and Chris out of there and Eddie couldn't help.

Buck held his breath, tensed his arms and pulled until his closest friend was out of the truck and his legs flopped beneath him to the floor like a rag doll. He didn't give Eddie the chance to try and scramble back into the car, he shuffled backwards and hoisted him along, kicking, screaming and elbowing him to get back in the truck.

Reaching behind him, Eddie dug his nails sharply into the back of Buck's neck and roared, pulling his head down with a jerk to try and get him to let go but it didn't work. Buck let him go and flopped him down onto unsteady feet before he moved round and stood in front of him like a boulder.

"Traitor!" Eddie slammed his fist down on Buck's shoulder but it didn't make that much of an impact and all Buck did was frown and look like he was about to cry. He was put in an awkward position and all he wanted to do was help but he couldn't let Eddie get involved in this. "T-they're my family, if they… I need to be with them,"

When Eddie slumped forward and pressed his forehead into Buck's chest, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him up.

"I know, I know."

With Eddie out the truck it was easier to get in and get ready to move (Y/n). Bobby got the backboard while Chimney undid her belt and they both eased her up onto the board as slowly as they could so they didn't move the metal too much and rupture something. Once she was strapped on, Chimney pushed the board up through the windshield and climbed out with her.

"Go follow (Y/n) to the ambulance and I'll help get Chris out," Buck gave Eddie a nudge towards his wife before he headed over to the back door that was jammed up against another car. He noticed Hen had managed to roll the window down after she got Chris stabalised. "Pass him through and I'll carry him."

"Easy, do not move or jostle his leg or the stint won't hold,"

Chris was slowly passed between them and Hen held tight hold of his legs and helped shift him round until he was laid over Buck's arms. And just before he turned to run towards the ambulance, Hen leaned over and placed his penguin teddy on his chest.

"He'll be needing this."

***

"How are we doin' in here?" Bobby peered his head around the door and took a tentative step inside but what he saw melted his heart.

He noticed Buck first. He was sat in the plastic chair on the left side of the bed, his legs propped up and crossed on the bed and his body slouched back in the seat. His chin was resting on his hand and he was fast asleep, still in his uniform with his blazer slugged over the back of the chair.

On the floor by Buck's feet, was Chimney, sprawled out asleep with his arms folded over his chest and his head leaning on Buck's leg.

On the other side of the bed, sat Eddie. He was in a dark blue reclining armchair that had the bottom propped up so Eddie could stretch his legs out. His jeans were cut around the middle of his thigh on his left leg and his knee which was dark purple and swollen, was fitted in a brace. It had dislocated during the crash and putting it back in place had almost felt as bad as the cut in his hand.

His right hand had been stitched up and wrapped in a thick clean bandage that went down over his wrist for safety.

He had taken his shirt off in the emergency room so they could check him over and send him for an X-ray which they had also done on his hand and found only one little break in his hand. And now he was sat in just his jeans with a tight bandage wrapped around his lower chest since he had broken two ribs and fractured a third.

Despite the ache that was pulsing through every part of his body, Eddie was still sat in the chair with his son curled up in his arms.

They had put Chris under a mild sedation to fix his leg and bandage it up so he couldn't scratch or pull at his stitches and they had set his arm back in place and put it in a cast from his wrist to his elbow. But when he woke up, no one had been able to stop Eddie from picking him up and walking up and down the room with him like he was a newborn again. He swayed him in his arms, whispered and sang to him to calm him down and as soon as (Y/n) was out of surgery, they went to her room and refused to move.

The metal had successfully been removed and her stomach had been stitched up. Her pelvis was slotted back in place and bound tight just like her chest for her broken ribs and stitches.

She wasn't awake yet, but they weren't expecting her to be after the sedation she had been put under.

When Buck and Chimney found out that she had been moved into a room, they used their uniforms to get past the nurses and hid in her room with Eddie and Chris. And subsequently fell asleep.

"I think we're okay," Eddie waved Bobby inside before he rubbed at his tired eyes and tightened his arms around Chris who was sound asleep on his chest, cuddled up with his penguin. The weight was more comforting than aching and uncomfortable, Eddie would take any amount of pain if it meant his son was comforted and close to his chest.

He couldn't come close to losing either of them again.

"I'm glad to hear it, Hen's on her way down to pop by and see you."

"Cap?"

"Yeah?"

Eddie didn't know what he would have done if the team hadn't reached them so quickly or if they hadn't all have thought on their feet and got him and his family out of there. They didn't let their closeness cloud their judgements, they got everyone safe and got them out and did what was best.

"Thank you,"

#eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #imagines #911 imagine #911 fox #bobby nash #evan buckley

469 notes · View notes

greywritesthings · 5 months

Text

None of that

Derek Morgan x Platonic!Reader

Warnings - meltdown, self harm stims

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Masterlist

Read on Ao3 instead!

A/N - IDK when the next update for the Autistic! reader series will be but hopefully soon! Decided to focus on Derek on this one as iv seen a lot of Spencer x autistic reader ( the main focus of the one shot series ) but who doesn't love some rep for the other characters, I may also do Emily, JJ etc x autistic reader as their own one shots :) Reblogs, comments & likes always appreciated!!

Today had started off bad and just seemed to be getting worse. You had woken up without Spencer as he had to go off to Louisville with Hotch to do a death row interview at the last minuet meaning your carefully planned out schedule for the week now had a wrench thrown in it, something you didn't deal with at the best of times, let alone without your boyfriend.

You had checked the weather when you were picking your outfit and it was supposed to be a mild but sunny day, so you picked a shirt and skirt with a sweater vest in case it went colder than expected but on your walk to the subway the skies suddenly opened and you got drenched to the bone before you could get under any decent form of shelter. You were lucky that your go bag was at the office but it meant spending your entire commute soaking wet.

By the time you reached the office you were nearly at the point of a meltdown so you text Rossi to say you were here just taking time to calm down after a hellish commute. Once you finally walked into the bullpen you nearly flinched at the amount of noise and lights in the space. You knew today was going to be a bad one and you would be lucky to escape it without a meltdown.

You took up Spencers desk for the day, a common occurrence when he was away as it brought you comfort, so you were next to Morgan and across from Emily, two people you adore on any given day aside from the fact that today you could hear the music coming from Morgans headphones just enough to the point it was driving you up the wall and combined with Emily's constant clicking of her pen as she did her paperwork and the buzzing of the various screens and lights around the room it was becoming too much but without Spencer here you were just frozen in place. You trusted the BAU with your life, literally more often than not but you still didn't want to have an outburst in the middle of your work day, especially when it was only another hour before Spencer was due back at work, the interview having been quicker than expected.

“Can you stop! Please!” you snap at no one in particular but both Emily and Morgan freeze. You clap your hands over your mouth and make a break for Hotch's currently vacant office, a place he had specifically told you to use when he wasn't in it and you had learnt to listen to him after a few meltdowns in the FBI parking lot. You’re only half sure the door closes behind you as you fall into the corner of the office Hotch had shifted around specifically for your meltdowns. He had kept it dark so it all blended in and didn’t overwhelm you but it was all soft, cushions on the floor and wall with some small fidget toys in a box to the side so you could grab them.

You can hear footsteps approaching the doorway and the door slowly creaking open and the footsteps slowly approach, it's not Hotch or Spencer. It can't be Emily, JJ or Garcia given they’re all in heels leaving it to be Morgan. “Hey baby girl, can you look at me?” he asks as he sits down cross legged in front of you, coming down to your level. “There you are, you gotta come back down to me okay sweetheart? I know you're overloaded right now” He keeps his voice low to try and encourage you to breathe. He didn't notice the fact that your hands are scratching at your arms until they were starting to bleed, “Hey hey hey mama none of that thank you okay, here grab my hands okay, you can squeeze as hard as you like, just no scratching yourself up okay?” He's not harsh about it, just firm. You grab onto his outstretched hands and he starts trying to guide your breathing. “There you go, see? You're doing it now. Do you want your fidgets? I can also go grab you a Hot chocolate or something, I don't have pretty boy on hand but he should be back in a half hour or so and Hotch has cleared you to go home when he's come back.” You smile at Morgan, reaching for the box of fidgets and grabbing one out. “I'm going to go grab you a Hot chocolate missy, behave while i'm gone okay?” You laugh as he leaves, settling back into the cushions with the fidget, nearly falling asleep.

Taglist - @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

Add yourself here!

#greyswritings #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x autistic!reader #spencer reid x autistic!reader #x autistic reader

174 notes · View notes

finniestoncrane · 1 year

Note

Hihihi I adore your writing - can I request the riddlers reacting to a fem reader that likes to sit/lay on the floor? Like avoids chairs at all cost and will move anything to the floor at the first given opportunity. If asked why she just says something like “I dunno, I like it more down here.”

Thank you :)

Floor Loving Reader

Riddler Headcanons oh you mean write some head canons about me lmao? like write about me and my floor loving ass? floor supremacy for real (also guess who has feelings about sitting on the floor near arkham!eddie) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff and some suggestive stuff, at one point it took a sharp turn into petplay... sorry lmao i don't know what came over me (horny)

dano

he agrees. this is the way to sit. floors were made to be sat on

he's been in various living situations that didn't have anything for him but a cushion and a blanket and a microwave

so he's used to making do, but you make it somehow... fun?

when you say "let's sit criss cross applesauce" or suggest a boardgame and spread yourself and the pieces all around

you make yourself comfortable wherever, and you make him feel comfortable just by being around

young justice

it's a little bit of an ego boost to have you beneath him, and not one that he's comfortable with

he's already hyper aware of the fact that he's tall and gangly

so he's forever bringing himself down to your level

and if that means he's on his lil tummy with his head in his hands, kicking his feet as he stares at you

then that's perfectly fine by him

gotham

he'd definitely join you! and then it's stim time baby

because now he's learned the joys of sitting on the floor and fiddling with various toys or tools

well he's just never going back to sitting at a desk again

look how much space there is for sorting and organising!

truly you are the real genius, since this was your idea!

btas

his only request is that you sit close enough to him that he can reach you still

he likes stroking your hair, or holding you close to lean against his legs

it's soothing, a nice reminder that you're right there beside him

and also acts as a nice stim, or like a stress release, when he's working on something intricate or that requires a lot of concentration

you're like his little good luck charm down there

telltale

you're gonna sit on the floor like a pet then you'll get treated like one

here's a little bowl with some water

and if you're very good he'll toss a snack your way

provided you behave very well and only bark when he commands you to

and if you sit by his leg, he'll scratch your head all nice too

zero year

if you're laying on your stomach then he gets to look at your butt

if you're laying on your back then he gets to take in your front

if you're sitting on the floor then you're the perfect height for...

y'know... *wink wink nudge nudge pointing at his dick*

"aw no don't get up, i was kidding! or i wasn't... if you're into it!"

arkham

every hour or so he shits himself because he's forgotten you're down there ("AH!! SWEET CH- wait i thought you were a rat.")

exactly the kind of person to step on you, yell at you for being in the way, and then kiss your lil owie better

he wouldn't admit it, but he finds it incredibly pleasant to have you just there near him

like paralell play or something, listening to you talking or singing or just watching you read/doodle

but he will kick you to get your attention, and so you don't get too comfortable around him

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler #btas riddler

206 notes · View notes

sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

Text

s/o with adhd hcs ; raeda

requested by ; anonymous (04/04/22)

fandom(s) ; the owl house

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; edalyn clawthorne & raine whispers

outline ; “IF it's okay i'dl like gender neutral, adhd!reader with Raine and Eda (TOH) for the poly request !”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

the most supportive and understanding partners you could ask for, honestly

eda will go searching for human stim-toys to help you focus

raine will help by composing spells that will settle your brain and calm your thoughts when you listen to it

if your difficulty focusing causes you distress or frustration then they’ll stick by you and offer whatever comfort and understanding you need from them

raine will talk you through your frustrations and try to help rephrase/reorganise things to help you be able to focus easier on the topic at hand

eda will comfort you and offer to help you take a break and cause mayhem so you can get out your frustrations on something more fun

if you need to stim to focus then they’ll go and fetch you objects to help you do that — grabbing things from the market or the human realm based on what you said helps you the most

regarding hyperactivity: eda will match your energy and will help you get out your energy through fun semi-productive ways

magic, training, hiking, fetching stuff to sell and so on

similarly, raine will engage with you and will help you find things to do during periods like this

though they’re more chilled out than eda and won’t be able to match your energy as much

your impulsivity has been known to give raine several mini heart attacks — in the same vein that eda’s impulsivity does

they prefer to plan things out and figure out what they’re doing beforehand whilst you and eda will just dive into activities head first with neither plan nor sense

it terrifies them at times, but they love you both too much to not put up with all of the grey hairs you’re giving them

and, as mentioned, eda will join you in whatever last minute activity you decided to do because she enjoys fun and impulsiveness

which is great for you two, not so good for raine’s longevity

but, in short, these two are incredibly supportive and empathetic partners who make great efforts to understand and support you with your adhd and will provide you with every resource they can to help you where you need it

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #adhd reader #poly toh x reader #toh x reader #the owl house x reader #toh eda x reader #eda x reader #eda x reader x raine #raine whispers x reader #raine x reader #eda clawthorne x reader

221 notes · View notes

soraviie · 2 years

Text

being your secretary.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff and crack, emphasis on the last one

━ pictures taken from Pinterest ━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

king of business casual attires

he hates wearing full suits, those are for exclusive meetings only as he finds them too stuffy

essentially somehow gets away with wearing a t-shirt by tossing a suit jacket over it

has a ton of nonprescription glasses that he wears fully for the right look of it, in reality, he wears his contact lenses and then glasses on top

would die of embarrassment if anyone found out about this

Also, definitely does not wear them just because you mentioned liking them on him once

arrives 10 minutes before you and prepares the morning briefing

power walks when he's irritated

if anyone hears those familiar dun dun dun steps, they scramble as fast as humanly possible

has been banned from the office kitchen after a very unfortunate coffee-making incident

gets cosmically stressed every other Wednesday and lets out this frustration by briefly screaming at the top of his lungs

does he know people can hear him? Does he care?

always knocks on your door before leaning through the gap and asking: "may I come in?"

nothing gets past him about you: which hotel are you staying at, when's your mother's birthday, what was the colour of the pen that you used to sign the documents with, it's all noted in his expansive calendar and notes

he knows it all

but about himself?

boy, oh boy, he makes you stressed

if you're on an overseas business trip, he can list the entirety of the ingredients in the foods you'll have on the plane and then you can point out:

"Didn't you have your passport hung around your neck?"

he freezes and in his eyes, you can spot, by now familiar, 404 error code

loses his work ID every other week

is available 24/7 'cause he's a workaholic

gets mistyped as the boss 99% of the time

if it's by someone whose particularly annoying he's all condescending and smug

"Actually..."

a big fan of saying "actually" when he's petty; anyone who hears it, knows that they're about to be deep-fried by an unlimited amount of sarcasm

during the first stage after being hired, he definitely stayed to work overtime to avert any conceivable flaws

you found him, hunched over the desk with a dim desk lamp as his only companion

"Why are you still here?" you question curiously and he nearly jolts out of the chair

"Just...just going over these fact sheets," he stammers. "Don't want to get anything wrong."

you had to wrestle him to leave

once he becomes more comfortable with you, begins to joke but more often than not follows it up with coughing "ignore that" as he lives in almost a perpetual state of embarrassment

does extra work at home over dinner

if you show up at his doorstep, emotionally distraught, he welcomes you warmly despite hardly being able to see through his sleep-laced eyes

And if he may or may not notice your stare lingering on the muscles of his arms revealed, he may or may not weaponise that knowledge when meeting outside of the office by wearing tight shirts and lifting his arms behind his head to flex said muscles

outside the office prefers to meet at the park

Because he definitely does not imagine it as a date

workers at the canteen hate him as he habitually harasses them for snacks when stressed

always has a book or two on his table, he doesn't even have the time to read them but he keeps them around as an emotional support

if you have something ultra-specific that calms you down be it a stim toy, a plush, or a candy he has that in his pockets always carrying it around

makes a show of making a thirst trap filled Instagram and then "casually" mentions it in passing so you'd give it a follow

why exactly does he need seven consecutive grey sweatpant workout selfies there?

it's for the uh....aesthetic, he answers, face as bright as a ripened tomato

goes on hilarious tirades after the events, complaining about how this and that was stupid

you let him, enjoying the chatter with a soft smile

is of tremendous help when writing any speech or anything that needs a literary nuance

always very proud of you

in a way, holds himself to a higher standard after meeting you

has a special encouraging smile for when you give speeches to motivate you on

and while glimpsing across the crowd you know you can never truly fail in his eyes

YOONGI:

no matter how impossible always gets things done

despite bemoaning and bitching about it, is actually great at handling inner office relationships

always manages to make everyone stay on the track

keeps various assortments of snacks on his table

loathes the entire HR team though there is no special reason behind it

where Namjoon goes in front of you to announce your presence, Yoongi is a silent shadow constantly on the lookout

has listened in on so many conversations, he's at this point a human spyware

most people dismiss him as a quiet, reserved, grinding sort of secretary but in actuality, he's playing the same game as you with just as much vigil

if someone slights you, so much as breathes a snide comment he'll let you know and then help you to deal with it

and if someone disrespects you, there's murder in his eyes

wears proper attire but hates the jacket so mostly walks around with a button-up shirt

that may or may be damning when he decides to roll up the sleeves

if the AC is not working as it should, he will dRAG the maintenance by the ear to have it fixed

has knowledge of things you never thought possible

for example, on a random drive to the office he may mutter, off-hand:

"Give your friend a call, today is their birthday"

could recite your dietary preferences while in a coma

tussles with any cook to keep them in mind whether on a lunch run or in a five-star hotel

when it's a late work day, often teases you with a nonchalant tone

something about a softer atmosphere, the dark outside the window and the dim light of your office makes him relaxed and feel closer to you

when you praise him and he's feeling cute, pulls this exact face whilst turned away from you

beCAUSE it's embarASSING

has laughed at you once when you walked into a door

doesn't wear glasses often but when he does you know he means business

you know he's aware of the power he holds and wields it with no regret or regard for the poor souls suffering at the end of these good looks

has three to five people in love with him at all times but rejects them very gently always making it seem he's a horrible catch

and not because he's attached to a certain boss

has made you food on his free days but doesn't know how to give it to you for months

so in the end he just brushes it off with an "I made too much so if you want here it is" and it just so happens to be your favourite meal

softly scolds you sometimes

if you wear eccentric clothes playfully teases you about it as well

has established weekly "trash talk sessions" with you and the janitor for the sake of his mental health

if anyone rags on him (rightfully) for lazing around he gets so offended lmao

"I'm bUsY!"

boogies when he succeeds after a particularly hard project

never acts cute on purpose but is so cute

has drunk dialled you once and deep down remains mortified despite pretending it's not a big deal

doesn't stay a single second after office hours are over, he's not about that capitalist life nah

and yet if you ask for help works the entire night and the next one and the next one

he's not about the capitalism but he is about you

at a company event, you can find him in the corner asleep

love or hate it, he knows the entire roster of the people you've dated before even if it was just a middle school crush, he has that information

if there's an important event, is there since the morning overseeing everything to the tiniest detail

if you appear in a televised interview watches it with sweaty palms

and if you're in a newspaper or a magazine he buys them and keeps them on his coffee table at home

if you drag someone through the absolute filth you know he's in the corner trying not to beam like a sunshine

sometimes on business trips after hours really lets his hair loose so to speak and you see another side of him

the bubbly giggly side and it's so adorable you want to eat him

(for the nasty people out there...you perverts)

and while we're at it he gets kind of flirty

if someone gets too handsy with you, death glares at them

is always working the angle on getting a raise, and while Yoongi is not about these capitalist schemes, he does love getting the coin

can often be found muttering underneath his nose that he's not paid enough to do this even if "this" in question is talking to someone whose a bit more annoying

big fan of wine drinking after work in the comfort of his home

often picks up his phone to text you an invitation but discourages himself from doing it every time

JIN:

always looks his absolute best

another king of business casual

but unlike Namjoon doesn't just throw on a suit jacket and call it a day

actually invests in good quality jumpers and shirts so he always looks expensive

and it may or may not be a deep gaping wound in the egos of many at the office

everyone talks to him but he rarely talks to them back

y'know

like he's popular because people decided he is not due to his own effort

with a face like that, he was bound to be, right

is by far and I do mean by far one of the most unorthodox secretaries ever to exist

you can swear that one second he has you thinking he'll never be able to do this and the next you're ready to worship him as he caught onto a mistake that could ruin the entire company

Jin gets things done but no one knows how exactly ???

though everyone has agreed that he looks superb in suits even if it simultaneously damaged everyone's ego

hates talking to clients, investors etc. etc.

but!

dude's an actor

so by being the fakest little bitch in the room, he manages to charm even the most heinous of competitors

has an adequate business brain

even if he says things that are undoubtedly questionable

like that one time he pitched the idea of selling Shooky's cookie fam for profit T-T

has the healthiest work vs free time balance

is not available 24/7

in fact, he's only available for the time that he's governed to be at

it's 5 o'clock? Bye, bye, watch the fumes from his back as he speeds away

a huge enthusiast of reading webtoons and watching dramas during work

so you see how people might be confused about just how exactly he gets everything done

but at the end of the day, he does

and that's what matters

also, his plot recaps are actually quite funny so you may allow the dastardly attitude for the sheer amusement of it all

makes snacks for you and himself

brings a warm cup of tea when you're stressed

if you praise him...

(♡⸃ ◡ ⸂♡) makes this face

and melts

he might act that he's above people's opinions but actually deeply craves them

an expert at defusing the tension

both when people quarrel and when you feel too stressed

he reminds you that this is not the end of the world and even if it is, it doesn't end until it does

attaches post-it notes with ridiculous questions to your various folders

for example,

"Ten mini giraffes vs one giant rat who would win?"

is either excellent at fashion advice or the absolute worst, there is no middle

blushes a lot if you show him special care and attention

Don't do that

But also not not do that

is almost never at his desk

sometimes he might have just locked himself into the office pantry to get away from people

participates at all social events despite his own great agony

does it because you asked and if you say please he will begrudgingly move mountains should it be needed

has been mistaken numerous times for your partner

and he doesn't bother correcting that ;)

once upon a blue moon someone actually manages to piss him off

but unfortunately the general population, you included, simply find that hot

it's about the furrowed eyebrows

on an unrelated note, does anyone else find angry rj uncannily resembling angry Jin I know it's logical but all the same

HOSEOK:

hello and welcome the social CPU of the office

does he want to?

no, not really

but it's beneficial

and it makes the workflow much smoother

he's a perfectionist so it's all about the workflow

keeps everyone in great spirits

so when he comes in depressed and moping to work everyone's in great distress and trying to improve his mood

the most efficient is you

as you simply make him a drink, put it on his desk and gently say that you're grateful for all that he's done

it's like a shining beacon of light breaking through the stormy night

rarely if ever wears office-appropriate clothing

but he always looks great so no one complains

and it's easy to find him

the pop of colour stands against the grey office in an almost comical fashion

doesn't usually stay after hours but absolutely takes the work home

sometimes calls you after work to make sure of something

doesn't make a note of the private things concerning your family or friends

but keeps detailed vigil for anything you related

doctors appointments, holiday plans, your birthday, he has it all marked down

sometimes spruces up your interior by hanging balloons and leaving behind cheesy encouraging cards

especially if you've gone through a hard time

occasionally drinks or dines with you after hours

these talks always escalate from work into conversations about life, hobbies, passions etc.

sometimes chooses to not pick up calls from the office when he's free

but

if you call him from a private number can and will answer in the middle of the night, on the beach, on the toilet

those are reserved for emergencies

gets shy when you praise him and constantly downplays his achievements

refuses to be promoted saying he couldn't handle the pressure, he's not equipped etc.

but it's just because he wants to stay longer close like this with you

he's reasonably ambitious so wrestles with it but he enjoys doing this so he always refuses

has a very, very secret folder of photos taken by him on official gatherings and outings

some make him proud, some make him giggle

like the one where you're holding an entire sushi roll whilst frowning at the opening speech for the business conference

definitely is caught up in like 10 people's business because they ask for his help and he's too polite to reject them outright

hates coming to work in deep winter

that's the most dishevelled he'll ever look

contributes a great deal to the improvement of internal workings

makes sure to greet every single person coming his way, be it a janitor or manager

hence why everyone likes him so much

it's actually impossible not to like him

hence why he's designated as the one to break hard news around the office

because he somehow makes sure no one feels too bad

rarely takes breaks during working hours as he's busy tending to the needs of his favourites

first and foremost - you

has every minute of every day planned and scheduled

colour coordinates events

and also sticker coordinates

sometimes sticks a cute sticker on top of a folder to cheer you up

and yes that does include your lunch breaks

has a frightening capability of faking a pleasant smile

he could be planning a murder to the most minuscule detail and no one would be the wiser

JIMIN:

so first of all he bungled the interview

bad

he got into his head, was late, wound himself in such an ulcer-ridden stress ball he could only mumble incoherently underneath his nose

so he's almost in tears

but then you say yes

cause you see something sincere about him unlike the manufactured cutouts giving perfectly polite, impersonal, well-readied replies

and because of that Jimin overworks himself to bone

he's so anxious over any conceivable mistake that for the first three months he practically lives in the office

going everything over and over again with sleep-deprived eyes

when it inevitably begins to show on his face you sternly sit him down and explain either he's going to adhere to the office hours or you're going to fire him anyways, in order that proper authorities are not on your ass for exploitation

moping away like a kicked puppy, he obliges

is practically mute for the first months in your presence

he's terrified of disappointing you

but slowly the fear ebbs away

and after a few out-of-office meetings

in front of you might as well sit a different person entirely

despite taking the longest to get used to it, he's the best at the job

is at this point a walking calendar

everything from your dentist appointment to whether or not you've worn this outfit before sits in his mind

has a different notebook/calendar for the types of things he needs to remember all colour coordinated

pink is for you, red for emergencies and previous mishaps, blue for finance meetings, grey - to be ignored

leaves behind himself cute reminders

is especially fond of cute, stylized post-it notes that often have quite little to do with work

mainly he uses it as a means to fluster you

perhaps succeeds

when he's really comfortable

he feels free to be mad at you

the King of Petty when he's mad

but unlike your competitors, all you have to do is flutter your eyelashes and he's a molten goo of floating hearts

you two are honestly a terrifying duo

cause if your secretary is this intimidating, glaring down something heavy upon the unfavourable guests while looking like he just descended from heaven...

what are you like then? o_0

master of passive-aggressive comments

the longer he works there, the better his fashion becomes

to the point where he has a distinct silhouette that reminds people more of a runway model than an office worker

expensive

you get what I mean, he looks affluent and posh 'cause by now he's as much as the face of the company as you are

the "click clack" of his heeled shoes as he walks around T-T

spends 75% of his mornings at your home

your alarm clock fairy really

if you're on overseas trips also lingers in your hotel room

feels quite lonely at home due to the lack of people

has beef with certain people in the office

also gossip central

but if any of it branches to insult you, snitches but not before making the person feel so bad they want to crawl out of their skin

frequently brings you snacks, foods and drinks :')

types in a concerningly aggressive manner, very loud and decisive like he's writing a national announcement

also another enjoyer of a wine glass (or a bottle) after work

after some time he simply reeks of professionalism

and as you sit and smile at him knowingly, having envisioned this happening

he gives a shameless smile in turn, rolls his eyes and collects the empty tea cups:

"Don't get excited, I might think you like me too much"

TAEHYUNG:

cardigans

wears an excessive amount of cardigans and soft jumpers

appears more like a funded art student than a secretary

but don't be fooled :)

he's absolutely cutthroat :)

there are a lot of people in the company that don't like you

and Taehyung is determined to show them exactly where their place is

all while grinning like an innocent angel

gets side-tracked a lot

invests early on into specific aesthetic notebooks, pens and folders

and then forgets it halfway

so now his table is mismatched with something that looks like the reading space of a retired elderly historian and normal office space

can't be found at the said desk for anything

prefers to work in your office

especially if that involves laying down on the couch and complaining

tends to forget small events and dates

"Hello, we would like to confirm the meeting on today's afternoon?"

he's sitting there on the phone with a ???? on his face

hurries all over the place to correct his mistakes

so seeing him rush suddenly out the door as though his ass is on fire is not exactly surprising

does not talk until 11:02

he's awake but at what cost

another enjoyer of knocking your ass awake in the morning

but unlike Jimin doesn't roll up glammed out and with pancakes in hand

but with hair a mess and dry spit on the corner of his mouth

gazing at you with sleep-swollen eyes

"let's go," says he and then promptly passes out in the car

knows the canteen workers on a first-name basis

at any given time, has 10 to 15 people madly in love with him

he's aware of this and is awkward about it

tries to cutesy his way out of your wrath

and does so gloriously

though when things get serious, he goes into hyperfocus mode

doesn't even recognize or grasp that someone's speaking to him when he does

is an excellent "light in the dark" person

meaning he offers unexpected solutions just when you think the situation couldn't get too dire

is a pro at throwing dust into people's eyes

he can confuse anyone and or anything in mere seconds

which is great for stalling or befuddling a competitor

if you try to call him and he doesn't pick up he then replies with a selfie and a text: "what's up?"

has made his own network of secretaries

which makes him practically the mastermind of the information

wherever he goes he picks up a new person to befriend

and as such singlehandedly has made the largest impact on the company's social list than any other department in its history

you try to promote him multiple times but he constantly whines about how he "likes to be under your wing"

often kicks back in the chair and thinks about how he wants to go somewhere else and not sit in this stuffy office

but all he needs is a single glimpse towards you that he reconsiders

it's not that bad, he supposes

his writing down technique is an absolute nightmare

it's a pandemonium

but he insists there's an order to this chaos

is a professional because he ultimately gets things done

but doesn't act like it at all

is still his silly, goofy self

is fond of green spaces or walking through the building than just sitting by his desk

it makes his soul drain out of his ears

where other guys establish dominance over glasses

he has closets full of bags

coordinates his bags to the events or days of work

a whole plethora of colours, designs and sizes

all have a distinct size

has tried to sneak Yeontan into the office in one of the upper mentioned bags

you're working away in your office when suddenly a wet nose presses against your calf

you peak underneath the table and find two soppy brown eyes staring back at you

tried his hardest to convince you to allow people to bring their pets to work

frequently compliments you

buys flowers for your office which he sneaks in when you're not looking

never says it's from him but from who else

may or may not contemplate leaving you secret handwritten letters

but he knows you'd figure it out from the scrawling handwriting alone

JUNGKOOK:

is mistaken for your bodyguard

because he keeps acting like one T-T

has a permanent 🤨🤨🤨 when outside of the office

at first, you think what an angel, so nice, so polite, so quiet, does everything you ask

and then the mask ebbs away

and now you have to be with this annoying demon

teases you a lot

does so at least in private

so from the outside, it's laughable - the act he pulls

the sheer fake innocence he radiates, he should be awarded all the nominations

but as annoying as he is

which is a lot

is great at grinding through a shitload of work

seriously, when he enters the concentration zone it's like nothing can rouse him

and to be fair he's still a perfectionist

so if he feels like this somehow reflects his own persona he will work until it is nothing but the top tier

also great at brainstorming

makes a habit of cleaning your desk space

and hiding his own snacks in your drawers

you reach one time to get a pen and find there a kit kat bar

searches and inspires his office outfits from Pinterest

so make it somewhat office friendly edgy

would rather die than hang out with any of his coworkers outside of the office

you're not a coworker you're a you in his mind

if he meets you accidentally outside of work, freaks out and probably tries to act like he's Jungkook's long-lost twin brother or smth

and if you tease him about it, he can't take it all

drunk dials you on the reg

it's not a Friday evening if you don't receive a very weird, and dragged-out call from your whatever-coloured hair secretary

as much as he's bad with remembering professional boundaries within work, if he somehow finds himself in your living place, is absolutely mortified

stands there like a plank, not daring to breathe or t o u c h anything

frequently forgets a lot of things, like meetings or where he's supposed to be

so it's not unusual to see him dishevelled with his big ass eyes looking around confused as all hell

but at the end of the day, he does what is needed because the thought of you being disappointed in him, carves a hole within his weird but warm heart

after some time he knows how to act professional so people who don't know better think "wow, what a young upcoming genius"

only for that genius to play with matches in your office later on

so while he's not exactly good at handling his own tasks on his own

due to him becoming distracted

he's superb at helping you to get things done

so the main prerequisite is to work with him side by side

and it's not at all just a ploy to spend more time with you

doesn't want to but somehow gets entangled with your family

has babysat/dog sat/catsat (??) for your friends and or relatives

they probably hound the shit out of you where's the nice young man

yeah, probably has a secret account that he uses to stalk you on social media

hates your most recent ex even if there's no reason to

only ever dresses office appropriate if there's a massive event going on

other than that he's walking around in sweaters, doesn't care

often rambles about weird, off-the-tangent things

when he's supposed to be doing paperwork

but you know he'll get it done anyhow

(cause he brings it home)

so you let him

has gone on a drunken rant about how great you are

he's probably adored by most of the office

who are simultaneously wondering why exactly you hired this funky muscular little dude

has probably injured himself trying to exercise and work at the same time

also can be often seen hauling his ass somewhere at top speeds

where? no one knows

when on an overseas trip, locks himself into a hotel room

and also takes any freebies possible

probably has half the office in his home, paper towels, tea packets, you name it

when there's a big project coming up, rushes up to you all frazzled, informing you what's going on

you may ask him how many energy drinks has he consumed

and he'll give an ungodly number

absolutely the type to pour an energy drink into coffee when at his lowest point

you don't know how it happened, but by now it's a habit that he carries your clothes and bags

it's just his thing

and don't you dare to give your stuff to anyone else, he'll throw a hissy fit

protects you a lot hence why everyone thinks he's your bodyguard

it's because he admires you a lot

and despite it not appearing as such, he really learns a lot from you

eventually, you see that he learns to focus better, and manage his time better all without losing his own distinct personality

when you give speeches, he has literal stars in his eyes :(

so while he's not the world's greatest secretary, he's your greatest fan

you'll never even get to feel down because he'll be constantly reminding you of how you can do absolutely anything

228 notes · View notes