#i almost exclusively wear jeans to work

[themirokai]

I’m sorry if I am insane today. I am wearing a dress without pockets, you see, and that is not a Natural Human Condition.

[suguann]

an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

[cinematicreid]

out the door

the one where Spencer helps reader pack for a trip.

wc 1003

tags + the rundown: fem!reader, bau!reader, fluff, spencer and reader are besties but ofc flirty, cute banter, i want him so bad etc.

a/n: hi tumblr hi fellow spencer reid stans hiiii! i think about this man so much in my head it was time to get him out of my notes app and onto a blog. inbox is open, let’s chat. all feedback welcome just pls be nice! enjoy!

~

“Spencer, be more helpful,” you beg as you stuff your toothpaste into an almost-full toiletry bag while frantically looking for your chapstick.

“I told you this was going to happen,” he says with a huff of resignation. He begins to fold the tiny, but mighty (i.e., messy) pile of clothes on your bed, organizing them neatly in your duffle bag.

To be fair, he was right. To also be fair, it had been a long week at the office, working through a stack of files that seemed never-ending. The days were long as they always were, and you had already fallen behind on quite a few household tasks, a rare habit of yours that was particularly prominent during weeks like these. Packing for your girls’ weekend had been the last thing on your mind.

Now here you were with a flight that was sure to leave without you if you didn’t kick it into high gear, and a somehow always right Spencer Reid ready to drive you to the airport, and you couldn’t find your damn chapstick.

“Well, if you knew this was going to happen you should have come even earlier.”

You make your way from your bathroom to your bedroom and toss your toiletry bag on the bed, nearly missing Spencer’s arm as he folds the last of your jeans. He chuckles at your remark before tucking the see-through bag neatly into the duffle.

“You know, I could have not offered my automobile services to you. I could have let you perish on the side of the road,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as you rummage through the drawers of your bedside table. Where the fuck did you put your chapstick?

“You’ve packed so many go-bags, you’d think you’d have this down by now,” he continues.

“My go-bag!”

You rush to the living room, targeting another one of the (too many) duffle bags you own on the couch. Most of its contents had been emptied into your laundry basket or returned to their rightful places except a few, and you race back to your room with your chapstick proudly brandished. Spencer shakes his head in amusement.

“How long will you be gone?” he asks, gently taking the tube from your fingers and securing it inside the front pocket of the bag, now zipped up and ready to board.

“Just the weekend,” you smile, already feeling your shoulders ease as the breath finds your lungs easier. You hated rushing. “I haven’t been back to Michigan in almost a year.”

His brow furrows. “We had a case there last month.”

“Yeah but, you know what I mean. I want to see my friends and visit the museums and enjoy the food, not profile a psycho.”

You grab your bag and start to sling it over your shoulder as you make your way to the front door. Spencer trails behind you, reaching for the strap before you can secure it and placing it over his own shoulder.

“We haven’t had a full weekend off in a while,” he says, and is that the faintest twinge of disappointment in his voice? “I didn’t know you were going to be out of town.”

You glance over at him, letting your eyes wander for a moment. Spencer on the weekends was a rare sight. His hair was extra fluffy; he’d had time to truly wash it in the shower instead of the rushed mornings you were used to when working a case. He was wearing his favorite cardigan that he never traveled with, the bottom two buttons left undone and the light brown of the wool bringing out the even lighter specks of brown in his eyes.

Of course, there was your favorite part: Those damn, adorable glasses that made their appearance once in a blue moon and almost exclusively on weekends when he felt too lazy to put in his contacts. Spencer on the weekends was all soft smiles and gentle laughs and, quite frankly, he was an absolute joy to be around.

You internally echo his disappointment that you’ll be a plane ride away instead of here with him, enjoying a new book store he’d found or convincing him to go window shopping with you.

You stop yourself before letting this daydream become too enticing. You could spend a million weekends with Spencer and never get bored, but you did miss your hometown, and your friends. You had a plane to catch.

“Sounds like someone already misses me,” you joke, returning your gaze ahead of you and grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter. “We see each other nearly every hour of every day. I honestly thought the sight of me repulsed you.”

“What? Of course not! I don’t find you repulsing. I was just…“ he begins to trail off ever so slightly, and there it is again. That tempting bubble of a daydream and what the weekend could have been starts creeping back into your apartment. You’d probably do anything to please Spencer in this moment.

Damn him.

Before you can burst it, for the sake of both of you and your not-so-cheap plane ticket, the piercing ringtone of the good doctor’s phone bursts it for you.

You stare at each other knowingly.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan, shutting your eyes and tossing your head back in defeat.

Spencer retrieves his phone from his back pocket, pursing his lips knowingly before answering it.

“Hey, Garcia… yeah… you don’t have to call her, she’s actually with me. We’ll be there soon.” He gives you an apologetic look as he hangs up.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, the previous moment fully vanished as you both slip back into work-mode. You let out an exaggerated, though you feel appropriate, sigh.

“At least you packed my go-bag for me,” you say in attempt to ease your own sadness about your now nonexistent weekend plans. “You should come over before all our cases.”

“Don’t let my generosity fool you.” Spencer nudges you toward the door with a comforting hand. “You’re packing mine when we get to my place.”

[seeminglydark]

A look-book and little break-down of Caro’s style and fashion Journey. I didn’t include their cheer uniform or GasCo uniform because those really didn’t influence their actual style much, other than the Varsity jacket and work jacket. I thought it would be fun to set it up almost like a magazine article and I’m in love with the results. I hope you enjoy it too. (The cover is my fave thing ever, just so you know.)

Here’s the Text:

Caro Greene, Cheerleader to Ghosthunter! An exclusive look at superstar Caro Greene’s style evolution. From femme to them!

The Teenage Years! Caro has been aware the high-femme style their parents chose for them was not the look they wanted for a long time, but didn’t know how to address it. Pairing their best friends tee-shirt over their Prom dress was the first step in figuring out their own personal style! From there, they tested out the route of borrowed too-big sweaters whenever they weren’t under the watchful eye of their family.

GasCo Era! Years of emotional neglect build until Caro chops off their hair, an asset more important to their parents than their happiness, and finds themself abruptly homeless, with nothing but some jeans, shirts and an oversized jacket belonging to their long-gone boyfriend. They get a job at the local gas station, and are gifted a new jacket that fits, with their new name on it, in their favorite color! More gender exploration leads them to a better haircut, and their first time trying a binder, and starting to not hate how they look.

Thrift stores, Sneakers, and T! Now in a new environment with supportive people at the GasCo, Caro discovers thrift stores and the tacky ‘80s aesthetic of their dreams. After years of other people controlling their body and looks, starting on low T is a big step in taking back control. They start wearing crop tops and sleeveless tees to show off new body hair, but also love chunky colored sweaters since they’re always cold. Sneakers go with everything, and when you’re short, the possibilities are endless in the kids shoes section.

Mil-Liminal! Caro’s podcast Mil-Liminal goes viral, and they are given the choice of staying faceless and anonymous, or taking the stage in live shows. They decide to do a face reveal, and that means choosing an iconic ‘look’ for their live performances. They choose their favorite color, GasCo Purple, and a jacket that is a blend of their varsity jacket and GasCo work jacket, two clothing pieces that always made them comfortable. They wear their trans identity on their sleeve, and top it off with the snapback look they donned years ago on their first venture ‘out’ as a teenager. The rest is history!

Current Caro! Which brings us to the present! There’s been some small changes, oversized sweaters and tees with a cosmic theme, which is new for the usually spookified Caro. They’re sporting white hair instead of their trademark blond, and have added a cross earring and a pendant to their Mil-Liminal uniform. A black snapback shows up as often as the purple one, and there’s a new bounce in their step, but perhaps they’ve just been indulging in too much coffee these days.

Caro Green is from my webcomics Seemingly Dark and Mil-Liminal, and podcast Mil-Liminal.

[tojipie]

Please serve us your best dilf toji headcanons I am begging

warnings: nsfw, exhibitionism, anal, alc n weed

────────────────────────

sfw -

will use little placeholder names for you but gets all flustered when you do it back. he’ll call you things like pretty girl, little girl, sweet girl, etc. but as soon as you start firing back he gets embarrassed

works construction so he exclusively likes to wear a simple black tee and baggy jeans. a lot of the pieces he owns have singe marks and paint stains because he can never remember to put his work clothes in the wash in time :( he likes the look of it though.

doesn’t care that he’s older, like at all. he has an almost sickening amount of confidence in himself and quite honestly loves having a pretty little sweetheart on his arm.

loves cheap beer. always has a couple 6 packs stacked in the garage, and will usually pull you into his lap when you come to bring him one. it happens so often that the two of you now have this inside joke where you bringing him a beer means you’re initiating sex.

little bit of a temper in public but is working on it. is no stranger to road rage or picking fights with other men in public places. he got the two of you banned from ihop after he called one of the managers a cunt 🫡

bad cook! just terrible. it’s literally comical how incapable he is of making the simplest meals. he lived almost exclusively off of takeout before he met you and is still adjusting to eating at home more.

likes to eat out of the pot with u :,) thinks it’s romantic and will use his spoon to feed u bites from time to time.

is the type of smoker to say “i’ll quit when i want to” (he’s not going to quit). he tried shifting over to weed to get the buzz he needs but it fucks with his head before work so he just went back to his cigarettes. prefers marlboro reds! will blow the smoke in your face just to make you mad.

let’s you cut his hair! he thinks you do a better job than a barber ever would. when he needs a trim he’ll touch-up his undercut with an electric razor and have you shorten his fringe for him. you think he looks so cute sitting at the kitchen table with a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

will do different things while he rubs your back just to see your little reactions. he’ll run his nails down your spine, trace shapes into your skin, and give you little pats just to see you melt off to sleep.

nsfw -

lives for a good blowjob, no matter the place. will ask to get sucked off in the living room, in the drivers seat, on his breaks when you visit him at work. literally no shame when it comes to having his dick in your mouth.

cums fast and cums a lot. pretty fast recovery time and can definitely go multiple rounds. his favorite place to finish is on your face and lower stomach 🫶

wants to do anal but doesn’t really know how to go about bringing it up. the idea first piqued his interest after a friend told him about him and his wife trying it. he’s definitely curious about how tight you’d be around him, and would love to see your little gape :( he’s a sick man

definitely an ass man! lots to do with it, it’s natural that it’d be a favorite of his. loves how easy marks take on the skin there and is likely to leave a couple hickeys while ur doing it.

favorite position is doggy. boring ik :( but it’s a classic to him! he feels most comfortable gripping onto the fat just above your hips and pulling you back into his cock. he’ll either have you face down with a hand to the back of your neck, or use your shoulder as leverage to keep you upright while he pounds into you.

might have a genuine exhibition kink. you cannot visit the airport without going at least a round in the single stall bathroom. if the two of you can find a room with a lock, he’s gonna ask to fuck in it. that’s just how it is and there’s no changing him. had his way with you once in the gym showers, you still don’t know how he successfully snuck you in and out of there.

big on both degradation and praise, he knows how to balance them out well, following every “fucking slut” up with a equally devastating “but you take cock like a champ no?

big dick 🫡 need i elaborate. he likes to press down on your tummy while he fucks you to try and see where his tip is, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader - Coworker AU

Content & Warnings: Coworker AU, Halloween Store AU, friends with benefits, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, friends to eventual lovers, free use, overstimulation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Free Use)

While working at a Halloween store, you make an agreement with your coworker, Kyle Garrick: free use of your body for covering shifts.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Another shift? I'm starting to think you're only working here for my cock."

"Kyle Garrick," you hiss, smacking his arm.

Laughing, Kyle grabs your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “The deal still stands.

"I'm fully aware of the deal," you mutter with a smile, removing your hand from his grasp.

"Any place. Any time."

"I know."

Kyle grins and aggressively clicks the end of his pen until you roll your eyes. "Just do it you big idiot," you mutter.

Putting pen to paper, Kyle scratches out your scheduled time and moves the shift elsewhere.

This time, he clicks the end of the pen once. "Behind the changing rooms."

"Now?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk on his face. Of course, now. He doesn't mean later. He never means later.

Within five minutes, you're leaning over a stack of delivery boxes with Kyle deep inside you.

All around you is the overflow of popular items. Couples have been coming in exclusively to purchase Scream masks, and it seems that every child that walks in with their parents wants to be a superhero. You're surrounded by masks, fake weapons, and numerous packaged costumes for every age.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle every rush of air that threatens to escape your lungs. Kyle's muted grunts are slowly turning into groans.

"Fucking hell, love,” he mutters, his thrusts quicken pace. The boxes beneath you shake and shift. They'll topple over, taking you with them if he isn't careful. Kyle exhales, his hips grinding against yours, holding there as his cum floods your pussy.

This is the agreement. The arrangement.

When you need a shift moved or covered, Kyle will happily do it. But he has free use of your body whenever he wants and at any time.

Kyle gently thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

"We need to go back," you groan, attempting to catch your breath. "There's probably an insane line at the register."

Kyle chuckles. "There wasn't a soul in the store when we came back here."

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. "How long have we been gone?"

With a brief squeeze of your ass, Kyle eases his softening cock from your body. His cum follows him.

As you stand to adjust your clothes, Kyle's arms embrace you.

He kisses the top of your head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

You groan and shove at him. "You're insufferable."

"But you like me," he teases as the two of you exit the small storage space, grabbing a box on the way out.

"On your knees."

You turn and almost scream.

Kyle is standing right behind you wearing one of those goddamn Scream masks. It's one of the red ones with horns.

"What are you doing? You scared me."

You're standing behind the counter at the very back of the store. The only customers are near the front, browsing and oblivious to your work in the back. Most don't even realize they can make a purchase back there.

"On your knees."

You blink. "The cameras, Kyle."

"They're off."

You cross your arms over your chest. "How did you—"

"I have my ways." He nods toward the floor. "On your knees."

You promptly fall. The counter is high enough to obscure at a distance but not if someone walks directly up to it. But you made an agreement with Kyle. If he tells you to get on your knees, you do it.

You present your mouth, and Kyle reaches for the front of his jeans. He opens them up, and then you take him into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head, you suck and tease, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the base.

Kyle starts to groan, and then clears his throat, head on a swivel as he watches the store. You keep at it, finding your own pleasure in the task of pleasing him. The mask certainly doesn't harm. You understand why it's so popular now.

One moment you're throating him, and the next you're pressed against the counter, Kyle quickly adjusting to lean forward, blocking any view of you. He pushes the mask up to reveal his face, grinning widely at whoever is standing there.

"How can I help you?" he asks, voice charming and smooth with zero indication that his cock is down your throat.

Inwardly grinning, you continue to suck him off. This is what he wanted after all. Why not give it to him?

"I'm looking for this," comes a woman's voice.

Kyle leans forward a bit like he's peering at a phone. "Those are in stock. Just over there."

"Over where?"

You take him down to the hilt and his hips jerk in response. "Front of the store. Left-hand side. Second row." He chokes on the last two words, barely getting them out.

You hear footsteps moving away, and then Kyle is glancing down at you, shaking his head softly.

"Swallow," he whispers. "Do it."

As he says it, his release hits your tongue. Relaxing your throat, you allow the cum to slide down as much as possible before you swallow the rest. When every drop is down your throat, he pops his cock from your mouth.

His pants are buttoned and back into place in seconds. You start to get up but his hand lands on your head, pushing you back down.

"Ready to check out?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you up front."

You watch him go from your spot on the floor. You wait a full minute before checking to make sure it's clear.

"I—I can't. Kyle. Please."

The customers are gone. The registers have been counted. The front doors are locked and all the lights are off. Except one. The one on the desk in the back office.

That lamp is on, casting a soft glow over your naked body. Kyle kneels between your spread legs. All you can see are his eyes. His mouth is busy with other things.

A swipe of his tongue and you're gone. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you moan loudly, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. You're supposed to be in your car, driving home. Instead, Kyle is giving you your third orgasm.

"One more," he murmurs against your sex. "One more."

You can't do one more. You really can't.

There are a few second reprieve before Kyle returns to his work. Every limb is shaking, overstimulation thudding through you so hard it's bordering on pain. You finish quick and loud, screaming out into the tiny room.

Kyle is standing and sliding into you within a few brief moments. The old desk creaks under the sharp thrusting. Kyle has one hand on your inner thigh, keeping you wide while the other rests firmly next to your shoulder. He leans over you, panting just as hard as you are.

Kyle's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust. "Feel so good," he groans.

Pushing up onto one elbow, you reach out for him, hand grasping the back of his neck. Kyle grins as you tug, closing the distance. His lips meet yours and it is perfect bliss.

"Finish inside me,” you sigh. “I want to feel you."

Your little admission does something to him. Kyle's groan softens to a sound you've never heard from him before. He kisses you again, and there is deep possession in it.

The two of you might have an agreement. It's the same agreement you’ve had with him last year and the year before. In between the stores closure and opening, there are flirty texts and occasional fucks but nothing serious. Nothing that feels like...whatever the fuck this is.

With a loud groan, Kyle grinds his hips forward, sealing your bodies together. His lips part, and you dip your tongue inside to taste him. Together, your connected bodies feel as one. There is no beginning or end here. There is only simple knowledge of pleasure.

Kyle returns your kisses. Each softer than the last. His arms circle to your waist and then lift, bringing you to an upright position. Dragging you to the edge of the desk, Kyle keeps himself firmly inside you, as if unwilling to part just yet.

He goes in for another kiss. This one on your lips. The next, your cheek.

"Need another shift covered?" he asks.

His heat is nice. Comforting. "Not at the moment."

"Pity," he croons, seeking yet another.

This time it deepens, becoming hot and heavy all over again.

"We don't have to do this, Kyle."

He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We could just...do this. We don't have to do all the other stuff."

"All the other stuff?" he grins.

You punch his shoulder and his smile only widens. "You interested in that, love? In me?" There is a hint of hope in his voice.

"What if I am?" you counter, matching his smile.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[finalgirllx]

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

From someone who only recently got into him. I could be wrong, since I can't trace back his roots much. Some of these are inspired by other writings, Marcus Lopez in Deadly Class, and my own bot usage.

I wrote this in about 5 minutes. Just a warning.

Mattheo is, of course, reserved around those he isn't close to. He tends to act cold, and will go as far to make himself seem threatening if he feels like it (whether that's actually true or not is your interpretation).

If he does something kind for someone without being asked, he prefers to let it go unmentioned. "Thanks for getting that for me." "Yeah, yeah, If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

Scorpio, Scorpio, Scorpio! This is the one time I'll assign my star sign to a character because it fits him so well, along with his face claim being a Scorpio as well.

Mattheo loves The Smiths. There is no arguing there. This is definitely Marcus inspired, but it is just so nice.

He wears black almost exclusively. It is just his go-to and fits his general vibe. If he must, he'll go for a neutral-toned checkered flannel or jean jacket when it gets cold.

Mattheo has immaculate handwriting. Like, people look at his work and can't help but stare because they're surprised at the quality of it.

He drinks black coffee in the mornings, and that's it.

Does get into a lot of fights. And he wins all of them. However, unlike what others may think, he tries to give someone a chance to out themselves from a potential fight before he goes in.

Loves the horror genre. He talks up paranormal horror as the superior subgenre but will sit down and enjoy just about any kind.

He is a Resident Evil fan (Resident Evil 1 came out in 1996, so this is for slightly more modern au's).

His closest friends are Theo and Blaise, but he gets along well with Enzo and has an okay relationship with Draco.

He is knowledgeable and a strong critical thinker but doesn't care much about academics. Besides Defense Against The Dark Arts, he is really talented at Potions.

'Claims' people. His icy demeanor is rather tough to break; once he lets you in, it's like a switch is flipped, and he's more possessive and protective than anyone could've anticipated.

Has a mean jealous streak. This has been known, lol.

I think he prefers cats - but honestly, I see him being hesitant towards pets. He is still sweet toward them and would be a love bug with a pet of his own, but I can see a pet approaching him, and he wouldn't know what to do at first, haha. 

Mattheo is sarcastic to his core. Shows his affection through teasing. But he can be quite serious and good at knowing the right words to support someone when needed.

Slight NSFW implications - incredibly dominant, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind that's not his preferred mode 99% of the time.

To see Mattheo's sweet side is a real treat, but he keeps that part for whom he adores the most.

His love language is physical touch and its not even close. If he falls for you, he'll always make sure to be touching you in any way that is possible at that instance.

[thisismeracing]

Screw him | MS47 (Patreon Exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Mechanic!mick x reader (she/her) ― Warning: +18! mentions of alcohol, food, and cheating; graphic description of sex (fingering, handjob, public sex, and choking); dom!ms47; 5k words. ― Summary: When you move to a different neighborhood and discover your hot neighbor is a mechanic, half of your problems evolving your old car are solved. Your issues with your current boyfriend aren’t though. You too need a fix, and Mick may be the perfect guy for it.

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preview

The first thing that called your attention to the next-door neighbor the second you stepped out of the car were the chords of Californication – at least it’s good music, you thought. The second thing was the black car parked in the garage with open gates. If you could guess, you would say that some kind of single rocker uncle in his sixties lived there, he probably had a bike too considering the helmets hanging in the garage, he was most likely part of a bike club, drank beer, and wore worn out jeans and a cap.

But your guess turned out to be wrong when you walked back to the car to grab your things from the truck and a blonde guy around his twenties was smoking in front of said garage. He was wearing a black hoodie contrasting with his pale skin, and when your eyes met, you felt your body flutter. He had a pair of deep blue orbs that you could tell from a distance paired with pink lips that turned upward just a tiny bit – enough to indicate that he wasn’t unpleased by your appearance or staring. Giving him a small, polite wave you got back to loading your new house with your old stuff. 

-

If you were to be honest, you didn’t mind Dave that much. The sex was mid at best, he knew how to be rude, and he had a jealousy issue, but he was familiar. Something you got used to. Something that got to you during a hard time in your life, just like Natalie Diaz once said, grief and love are alike, they can blend in a way you can’t tell which is which. 

You held him like you held to your grief. 

However, you were in a new place. Physically and mentally. That new place included kind people like Mrs. Angelina, Mick, and the twin neighbors – Amina and Aman, a new community. 

And, of course, when you called Mick late at night after being unable to reach Dave, he answered on the first ring. 

Friday night.

Past eleven.

First ring.

Instant pickup.

You were still trying to digest the whole thing when his voice sounded on the other side of the line. You have been interacting long enough to pinpoint precisely how his voice shifts, to notice the hind of worry in his tone. 

“Yn?” He tries again after your silence. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah, hm… Are you busy?” you bit the inside of your cheek wanting the metallic taste to anchor you. Your mind was everywhere but where it needed to be. 

You heard shuffling around and his rock music being turned down, “Nah, I’m just working on the missus, as usual.” The missus being his black Benz EVO II. “What happened?” 

“Bluey stopped working in the middle of a shortcut I decided to take,” you spilled everything, using the nickname you got for your car when you first got it.

“Oh shoot, you should have let me look at him that first week,” he mumbled, and you heard his keys jingle. “Send me your location, I’m on my way to tow that old bastard.” 

“Please, show my Honda some respect,” you joshed and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you could almost see him rolling his eyes playfully. “Don’t hang up, keep talking to me so I know you’re safe.”

“I’m ok, Mick, it’s just a weird and dark road, but no signs of snakes or frogs so all good.”

“How funny, did you get extra sugar on your coffee today, sweets?” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes except you did it to prevent your smile from growing. 

“Yup, extra sugar and extra syrup. I got you a venti iced, but if you keep being this sassy I’ll drink it all before you get here.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I would, Mick. I totally would.” 

He huffed, and you both giggled like a pair of teenagers before a comfortable silence was installed. 

Sure enough, five minutes later he was looking inside your Honda’s motor while you held your flashlight beside him. His hands and arms were stained with oil and car grease from working on his car earlier that day. 

-

You took a step back. Your ass found the grill of his black Mercedes, and your eyes lowered to his black Converses, suddenly finding the creases and dirt on the shoes interesting enough, until they stepped between your legs. His sturdy body claimed its space there.

Mike didn’t need to say a word – his cigarette and drink were forgotten beside you, and his free hands found your waist, pushed your body on the hood of the car, and fully stepped between your thighs. His strong waist made you open wide for him. He didn’t need to say a word, yet he did and wanted to hear you say it. 

“Will you let me give you an orgasm? Show you what that loser of a boyfriend probably never did.”

There it was his crudeness again, laced with filth. You gulped, staring into his ocean-blue eyes, and after a beat, finally, nodded.

Mike’s pink lips tipped up in a smirk, and he dipped his head so his mouth was close to your ear, “Wanna hear you say it, sweets.” 

He wanted you to be part of his dirty game. He wouldn’t do it alone. He wouldn’t take the blame. Or maybe he just rejoiced in knowing there was a part of you as filthy as he was, that craved the illicit with him. His honesty, though unsettling, draped over you like a blanket. It was warm. Maybe too warm. It would most likely burn soon, but you didn’t care. You wanted his body to be draped over yours too. Wanted the gush of air that left his mouth when he whispered against the skin of your neck. 

“Please, Mike.” 

“You gotta say it.”

“Fuck. Fuck me.”

And everything he did after felt like a fever dream.

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[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 2

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.3k Also on AO3

“Oh, you’re up? C’mon get dressed, we have a meeting with the engineers in like ten minutes” the stranger singsongs, throwing the door open and carelessly stepping inside.

The man does not spare you a second glance, instead making a beeline for the tall window that cover the entire wall at your right to throw the curtains open. Your hand flies up to cover your eyes, the new source of light not only blinding you but also revealing too much information for you to process. What is this room? Not your bedroom, that’s clear, you sure as hell do not have a kitchen in front of the bed for starters. And that huge balcony?

Where are you? 

However, you are missing a key question: you are late for what?

He interrupts you almost instantly, ignoring your complaints as he takes a look down to his phone “Be ready in five, I have to make a call”, and with that said, he is out the door. 

“I…I don’t-” you try to get his attention, arms coming around yourself for protection since your voice is not cooperating. 

The silence he leaves behind is chilling, your mind working at lightspeed while your body remains there, standing alone in the middle of an unknown place, petrified. You can only hear him outside, his steps and words filtering though the paper-thin walls —and only then does your brain register he is and has been talking in English all this time.  

You look around, completely overwhelmed by the situation. What are you supposed to do now, jump out the window? Because there is no way you are going to do what he is saying, right? You do not even know who he is or where you are, this is crazy!  

A look around the room further confirms your suspicions, this is a hotel room. Those bland colors, decoration to fit everyone’s taste and a neon pink suitcase pushed into a corner that you run to dig through with such fervor that you almost tear the zipper out. But there is nothing that could help you anywhere. Maybe you could throw one of the heels at him and pray that it causes a concussion or something, but that could potentially get you into a lot more trouble.  

A couple of knocks halt your investigation, the same mechanical noises sounding again as the door slowly opens. You make a split-second decision to hide in the bathroom, door closing way too loudly for him not to notice.  

“We really have to hurry, the car is waiting for us” the man sighs in frustration. You hear some ruffling around the room and before you can figure out what he is doing, he is walking towards the bathroom’s door “Hey, open up, you left your clothes outside” 

Considering your chances of escaping any other way are non-existent —you have locked yourself in the worst possible room for an impromptu breakout plan—, you decide to lower your head and listen to him. What else could happen? The situation is bad enough already, you should at least change out of this pyjama. 

Taking the knob in your hand and placing a foot close to the door to prevent it from completely opening, you comply with his request. Through the small gap appears a stack of neatly prepared clothes that you quickly snatch before closing it again. The outfit is nothing special, a pair of jeans and a shirt that looks exactly like the one that man is wearing. The fabric is white and of a strange but flowy material, logos of different brands plastered all over it. The biggest one painted right on its center, letters drawn in a dark red color: HAAS.  

Advertising clothes? Weird.  

You make quick work of getting yourself dressed, stepping out of the room before the man can call for you again. He guides you out the room and through the corridors in silence, glancing every now and then at his phone, until you arrive to the car he had talked about. The driver does not even look back when you get seated, only speeds off as soon as both doors are closed.  

On the ride, the atmosphere is tense. Nobody says a word, the only sound filling the space being that of the car’s radio, and even that is worrying you. They are speaking so fast and in such a strange language that it is impossible to understand any of it. Is that why the driver had not talked? Is he a foreigner, like the guy seated by your side? What have you gotten yourself into?  

“Sorry, I’ve been so stressed all morning... didn't even ask if you are feeling alright after yesterday” the man breaks the silence, letting go of his phone for the first time all morning.  

So, all of that did happen, you did faint in the arms of some stranger dressed in a weird orange jumpsuit. It is nice to have some confirmation, but what the hell... 

He rummages through the backpack in the middle seat while waiting for an answer that is so painfully obvious. No, you are not feeling alright, you have been literally kidnapped, is he that delusional or just plain stupid? But you decide it's better to remain silent.

In the meantime, he manages to take out two plastic cards with neck straps attached to them, and holds one of them on your direction as he puts his on. Something instantly catches your attention: not only is your face printed on it, but your name and surnames are written just beneath it. What is this? Why do they have this picture of you? You cannot remember ever taking this photo. 

But you do not dare ask it out loud, voice now stuck on your throat as you dwell on what this means to your situation. They must have been following you, they know exactly who you are.  

“The doctor said everything was fine, that it must have been the rush of emotions and the exhaustion, so you don’t have to worry” he explains once the silence stretches for a beat too long, waiting a second for it to sink in and gather some courage to continue his monologue “Look, I know you don’t like discussing these things on Sundays, but...” 

And although you would have loved to snap at him and tell him that he would not know what you want or do not want to talk about —who the fuck does he think he is?—, it is not you who interrupts him.

The arrival to your supposed destination had gone unnoticed by both of you until a woman starts knocking on the car’s window, the scoldings about your lateness filtering even through the thick glass.  

Oh, his name is Nick? 

The pair seem to be associated —a conclusion that you draw solely because they are wearing that ugly advertising shirt you are now sporting too— or they at least know each other enough for the man to shoot straight out from the car as soon as he hears her. You do so as well, for some reason, but they come over to guide you around before you can question your decision any further. 

The place they have taken you to is rather strange, an enclosed area with colorful buildings that look more like tall campers than actual constructions. The people crowding the street are bubbling with energy, running from one place to another, talking and eating. Some of them are carrying cameras and microphones, big ones, like those you see in TV and... they are pointing them at you? In fact, when you decide to look around to confirm your suspicions, you discover that you have attracted more than the attention of the cameras, everyone is looking at you. 

Even though you try to avoid everybody’s gazes, too worried about who they might be and what they could do, a man standing further down the street manages to catch your gaze. A smile pulls at his lips as soon as your eyes meet, and he waves at you. He is dressed in a red shirt littered with a bunch of logos —these people sure are big on advertising clothes— and a matching cap, a similar outfit to the man he was been talking to. Oh, and now he is... walking towards you? What? Who is he? But most importantly, should you like, say something? It is not like your kidnappers, or whoever they are, are any more trustworthy than a random man on the street, but maybe- 

Yet, before you can decide on anything, he has already standing in front of you.

“Hey, did you eat?” the man in red asks —in English again, mind you, though he seems to have a different accent—, and answers his own question in the same breath “You didn’t, right?"

You shake your head in response anyway. It is true, the last thing you ate was yesterday’s lunch, had been too sad to even make yourself a sandwich that night. But it does not feel like your stomach would accept anything either. 

His smile widens at the confirmation, dimples peeking out as he reveals what he has been hiding behind his back. The man in red stretches a hands towards you, a package of cookies wrapped in transparent plastic and a pretty bow resting in his hand.

“They made these again! Got some for you as soon as they put them out, you liked them so much last time” the man’s voice has turned light with happiness, the look on his green eyes signaling just how proud he is to have gotten them for you, but what does he mean by last time? 

Frowning, you peel your eyes off the treat, looking up to the pair by your side, as if asking for permission. This all seems so strange.

“Of course, go ahead” Nick quickly responds, looking rather confused “You can eat whatever you want, I thought you’d be too nervous for food”.

And you are, but this man is looking at you so sweetly that it makes it impossible to refuse his gift.  

You swiftly pick up the bag, holding it close to your chest as a “Thanks” slides out of your lips. 

There is a beat of silence between the two of you, the ever present smile drawn on the man in front of you only stretching and your confusion heightening.

“Uhm, sorry, the meeting is about to start, we have to go” the woman beside you reminds, and you can see Nick checking his phone for the nth time this morning. She turns to the man in red “Good luck today, Charles! Be safe” 

Oh, Charles? Is that his name?

“Yeah, I’m running late as well” Charles murmurs, taking a look back to where he came from. You follow his gaze to see the man he had left behind to talk to you, arms crossed over his chest as he waits by the door of a fully red building. Charles seems to nod at him after he makes a couple signals, the man near the black building pointing to his watch. “Thank you, and good luck to you too! I know you’ll do great today, so” he looks back at you this time, shrugging his shoulders as a grin plays on his lips, like it is a done deal.  

But what exactly are you supposed to do great at? What is all this good luck for?

Nick’s arm quickly comes to rest on top of your shoulders before you can dwell on Charles’ words too long, steering you towards one of the buildings while your mind is boiling with questions.  

A glass door gives way to a long corridor full of doors, voices and mechanical noises echoing off the walls. The inside is fully painted in white with various red details lining the walls, which awfully remind you of the place you had woken up in yesterday. The only difference is that now you can recognize that red logo drawn all over the walls: HAAS. The same one resting atop your abdomen. You look down at your shirt to confirm it, eyebrows furrowing as you try to decipher what this is supposed to mean.  

The source of all that noise seems to be a bigger room that opens at the end of the hallway, one that you do not get the opportunity to take a peek at because Nick smoothly ushers you into one of the firsts rooms before you can snoop around much. He opens the door to reveal a group of men seated around a black table, the group casually greeting you and resuming their conversation a second late while you find a seat.

The meeting seems to be all about cars? Sports cars, maybe? Something about their engines, the degradation, strategies and more stuff you cannot really understand, the discussion continuing as one of them points at statistics on a screen. Is that an F1 car?  

“We are starting really far ahead today, congratulations on P10! I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday so… I hope you are feeling better, and just” one of them says, his eyes lifting from the papers on the table to look straight at you. His big smile is supposed to be encouraging, but it makes your heart skip a beat “Don’t be greedy, ok? Keep the position, we need the points”

The rest of the men seem to agree with the piece of advice he throws your way, putting you at the center of attention, and they erupt in laughs as they dedicate each other knowing glances.  

On the other end, you remain silent, trying to figure out what he could possibly be talking about. P what? What is P? 

The meeting does not last much, a thousand of technical words are thrown around without care and a pile of numbers is presented to you all, but you do not manage to grasp what anything of it means. However, the final phrase is etched into your mind, a wish that they all share: “Let’s have a great race”.

And that last word is what starts turning the gears in your head.  

That and the fucking Formula One car you come face to face with when Nick leads you further down the corridor. A quiet “What the hell?” rolling out of your tongue almost unconsciously, eyes glued to the machine before you are pushed into yet another room.  

Next chapter

___

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much for the nice comments and interactions.

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd@drezzerk33

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're The Only Girl for Me - Chapter 9

yes, i did post this already, but I wasn't happy with it so.... 🤷🏽‍♀️

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

Trigger Warning: mentions of domestic violence

All OC Characters belong to me

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DECEMBER 28th 2020 - Pensacola FL

Whatchu’  wearin?” Josh asked as he and Airielle were talking on the phone. She looked down at her white long sleeve shirt and jeans and rolled her eyes. “I’m wearing lingerie at the supermarket.” He had flown to Georgia the day after Christmas to spend the rest of the week with his kids. She had thoughts about him and his ex-wife, but she had to remember that she and Josh weren’t technically together, they had gone on a couple of dates but they weren’t exclusive. He was technically a free man and could do what he wanted to.  

“Shit, bet the bag boys are loving that.” She laughed loudly at that, causing people to stare at her. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Awe, You miss me?.” She asked teasingly. 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed. “You know I do.” He paused, “ I told my sons I was seeing someone.” That stopped her. 

“You did?” She asked, surprised. She didn’t know why she was surprised. They had met each other's family already. 

“Yeah, they old enough to understand why me and they mom not together. They want to meet you.” Airielle almost hung the phone up on him and blocked his number. “You still there?” He asked after she didn’t say anything for a full minute. 

“Yeah,” She breathed out. “I would love to meet your kids.” 

AIRIELLEJONES

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“Wait, he said his kids want to meet you?” Airielle nodded and took a sip of her mimosa. As soon as she got off the phone with Josh, she called her cousins and set up an emergency meeting at their favorite brunch spot. 

“What did you say?” Airielle groaned and put her head in her hands. 

“I lied and said I want to meet them too.” Yasmine and Ashley looked at each other before bursting into laughter. “Shut up.” She said, throwing a piece of toast at each of them. “I panicked. I ain’t know what to say.” Airielle sighed and bit her lip. She was so close to texting Josh and telling him that they were moving too fast. 

Yasmine narrowed her eyes at Airielle. “Don’t you try to run away from that man Airielle.” Airielle opened her mouth but Yas cut her off.  “No, You knew he had kids and you still went on dates with him. Did you think you were never gonna meet them?” Airielle shrugged. 

“I don’t know.” She stressed, throwing her arms up in the air. 

“He ain’t Christopher. And you need to understand that.” Yasmine placed a couple of dollars down on the table before standing up and walking out of the restaurant. 

“She just wants you to be happy, Rih. And from what I seen at Christmas, Josh makes you happy.” Ashley smiled and patted Airielle’s hand before getting up and following Yasmine out of the restaurant. 

“Fuck.” Airielle whispered and placed her head in her hands. 

JANUARY 1st 2021 - Friday Night Smackdown

Josh was pissed. After he talked to Airielle the other day she had went ghost on him… again. All his calls and text messages went unanswered. He had thought about flying back to Pensacola to pop up on her but decided not to.  He was angry as fuck and didn’t want to say something he regretted. 

The first thing Josh did once he stepped foot into Tropicana Field was go search for Airielle. The last time she went ghost on him was because she was feeling him. And now this time he was sure it was because he brought up his kids. 

“Yo, you seen Airielle?” He asked Kayla as he walked over to her. Kayla looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes. 

“No, I haven’t seen your little girlfriend.” Josh rolled his eyes. He didn’t even know why he asked her bitter ass anything. When he tried to walk away she stopped him by grabbing his arm. “Is that all you have to say to me?”  Josh sucked his teeth and pulled his arm free of her grasp. 

“I ain’t got time for this Kayla.” 

“You haven’t said one word to me since September.  Since Airielle got here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s like you just threw me to the curb for her.” 

“It was never like that with us and you know it Kay. You and I both know we was drinkin’ that night and one thing led to the other.” 

“So you never felt anything for me?” She felt her eyes water. Kayla was beyond embarrassed. 

“Shit, don’t cry aight? I’m sorry if I made you feel that way okay?”  She nodded but a tear still slipped out her eye and down her cheek. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said and pulled her into a hug. 

Airielle felt horrible about avoiding Josh. She knew her cousin was right about Josh not being anything like Christopher but she couldn’t help it. Christopher had put her through hell for six years. From the verbal abuse to the actual domestic abuse that had landed her in the hospital with a broken nose and two broken ribs. 

After she was finished getting her hair and make-up done she decided to go and find Josh to apologize to him. She walked around the arena, checking catering and Joe’s locker room but not finding him. She turned down the corridor that led to the Gorilla and came to a stop as she saw Kayla and Josh hugging. 

“Oh.” Airielle said, making them both look over at her, her eyes bounced between the two of them before she turned around and started walking the way she came from. 

“Airielle wait.” Josh let go of Kayla and went to chase after Airelle.”Lemme explain -”  She sighed and stopped walking and turned to face him. 

“Josh, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything.” She said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not like we were together anyway.” She shrugged 

“Don’t give me that bullshit Rih. You know damn well you my girl.” 

“How? How was I possibly supposed to know that?” She felt her heart rate increase and her palms start to sweat. 

Josh frowned his face up at her. “Am I trippin? You met my family, I met yours and I told you that my kids know about you. You think I tell my kids about just anybody?”  Airielle crossed her arms and looked away from Josh. I need to get outta here. She thought. All she wanted to do was apologize, not get into a debate on whether they were together or not. 

“I was coming to look for you.” He said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “I stopped to ask Kayla if she seen you-” 

“Josh, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” He just blinked at her before continuing. 

“And she said she didn't, so I was gonna go on my way. But she wanted to talk about me and her and I had to tell her there was no me and her. She started to cry so I gave her a hug.” He summarized. 

“Look. I gotta go alright? Gotta see what I have to do tonight.” She removed his hand off her face before walking away.

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[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 14

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 13 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n attempted to roll her eyes as soon as she saw Jungkook getting out of his apartment at the same time she was planning to leave. It almost was as if he was waiting for her to leave.

—3A, where are you going looking so good? —he teased her.

She was wearing one of those floral dresses that were tied up at the front, and that had a skirt so light it'd probably be the easiest to lift it up. She usually only wore jeans and shirts to work, so that new outfit got him wondering where she could be going.

—Work —she huffed—. I have an interview with the city's mayor for a shared report —she stopped as she became aware of how much she was sharing with him—. Why am I even telling you this? Get lost.

—You're always so rude for no reason —he mentioned as he approached her, resting his shoulder on the wooden frame of the elevator—. I thought you'd start treating me better after I agreed on helping you with the article.

—You've done too many wrongdoings for me to forget about it only because of the article.

—Last time I checked you did them just as much as I did —he stopped her—. Shouldn't I be as angry as you are?

—Please, be —she clicked on the button of the elevator—. It'd be great if you just approached me for the article.

—That wasn't what you were saying the other night...

—Shh —she quickly turned to him—. I'll geld you if you bring it up again.

—You must hate having a good time. No wonder you're so bitter and sad.

—That's right. Now leave me alone with my bitterness and sadness —she replied back.

She thought she'd escape the walking temptation Jungkook was in when she stepped inside the elevator, but he sneaked inside before she could react to it and push him out again. He was making things so difficult first thing in the morning, she wondered if he ate crack for breakfast to have that level of energy so early.

Jungkook looked down at her, aware of the way her eyes kept shifting towards the buttons at her left, desperately trying to keep her eyes away from him and trying not to make any eye contact that could unchain another bickering.

She seemed so difficult, but at the same time he could bet she was so easy. The previous times it only took him an intimate surrounding and some heated bickering before she gave in.

If he moved the tip of his finger through her neck, would she move her neck to the side to allow him to brush her hair back and expose that area so he could kiss it? And if that happened, would she allow him to move down that light skirt to sneak his hand inside and let his fingers meet up with that glorious place he was sinking in not even two nights back? The image of her squirming to his touch, trying to control herself was driving him insane. But having it slowly escalate to him pinning her against the wall, and making out with her in the lewdest way possible was a growing need that he needed to erase from his brain.

She didn't do anything other than just being there. She didn't talk or look at him the few seconds they lasted in the elevator. Yet he was bringing out his most animalistic instincts.

Perhaps... why was he craving her that bad? It shouldn't even have happened the second time. What the hell was going on?

Y/n frowned at how Jungkook looked so stiff all of a sudden, seeing his panicked expression through his reflection on the mirror on her left.

He thought it'd be over, Jungkook was convinced he'd move on from the grip she had on him after they had sex the second time, but it only got him to want her even more. And with that same expression, he escaped the elevator as soon as its door opened, without even saying goodbye.

—Decent people say goodbye, you freak! —Y/n called him out, not even getting him to turn back to her— What the fuck is wrong with him?

He was the one constantly being a pain in the ass, and the one who sneaked inside the elevator, yet he escaped and ran away as if she had the most contagious illness. Who could ever understand him? Not her, and it wasn't like she wanted to either.

She was so consumed by her thoughts, so annoyed by Jungkook's attitude, that she didn't bother to look up when she collided against someone. A "sorry" came out of her lips, at the same time she was determined to follow her way to the station.

—Y/n?

That voice...

Kyle Robson was right in front of her, with a surprised expression that she quickly mirrored when she confirmed it was actually him. He looked exactly the same way he did a few months back, before they lost contact because she didn't want to go any further with him, and he was determined on winning her over again after they broke up a little too many times.

Just thinking about all the time it took her to move on from that toxic on and off relationship made her internally squirm.

—It's so nice to see you —he smiled at her, poking one of his hands inside the pocket of his pants—. I see you're still living in the area.

It wasn't like she had any other choices to move out.

—Yeah, yeah —she nodded—. What about you? What are you doing here?

Unless he moved out, it was weird seeing him there. He belonged to one of the most crowded areas in Chicago, and she knew it by the way he refused to barely make a move to visit her there when they were dating.

—I came to see a friend.

Nice, now her self-esteem was starting to reach a new low. Even after she moved on from him, she managed to feel offended by his words.

He made Jungkook seem like an angel.

Wait... why did she even bring up Jungkook? His ass was everywhere even when she didn't want to think about him.

—I thought you had it difficult to get here —she barked back, unable to hide the pettiness in her tone as she replayed the same excuse he gave her years back.

—It's... —he nervously laughed— he was the one who drove me here.

He was really that dumb that he probably wouldn't know how to make something as simple as Google Maps work.

—Where are you going?

—To work —she simply said.

—Are you still working at that newspaper? —he hopefully asked.

Of course he remembered that. It was their middle ground whenever they met months back. If they wanted to see each other, he always made sure she was in the office to pick her up and take her back to his place.

—Yeah, and I'm already late, so...

—Wait —his fingers softly hooked her forearm before she could step away—, do you want to meet for a coffee or something? It was nice seeing you, and I'd like to catch up with your life.

It always started that way whenever they saw each other after breaking up. He offered to have a quick chat, they connected somehow, and later she ended up tangled in his bed, naked and with a single pinch of dignity as she hid herself under the covers.

It was such a poisoned cycle that she felt free when she ended it up for good five months back.

—Just in a friendly way —he assured her—. I could pick you up at work one of these days.

—It's not necessary —she stepped back.

But maybe a little distraction was exactly what she needed to get her stupid neighbor out of her head, and all of the unconscious thoughts she had throughout the day. Probably the fact that she was so busy with her work and those boxing parties kept her from meeting new people, to the point of recurring to the same annoying person that would brag on her face how she crawled back as soon as they met on their shared landing.

And it wasn't like she'd actually sleep with Kyle.

—I'll send you a place where we could meet later today, if you want —she answered—. Do you still have the same phone number?

—Yeah —he quickly nodded—. I'll wait for your text, then!

Jimin entered the office, just to find Jungkook sitting at the edge of the desk while he stared frustrated at his own phone, which was quite unusual. They had known each other for years, and his friend had always been the type to ignore any type of connection through social media, texts or even calls.

He always moved better in real life.

But that day his eyes were fixed on the screen, with both hands holding the small device while his frown deepened with every second that went by.

Reopening his Tinder profile wasn't something he was planning. In fact, the day he created an account he only did it to find out what was all the fuss about with that app, only to find out it was similar to what he found in real life, with the only difference that those women were miles away, and most of them weren't even looking forward to meet up with him in real life.

It was a waste of time.

Jimin curiously looked over his shoulder, seeing the way the pictures changed as his friend scrolled left and right.

—The big Jeon Jungkook is using Tinder? —Jimin mocked him— I knew there was something off with you when you started showing up here at eight in the morning, but a Tinder account is going beyond my expectations.

—I'm just testing it —he excused himself, not moving his eyes up to his friend—. Capitalism has fucked everyone, because why the fuck do I need to pay to see who's interested in me? Huh? It's so annoying.

—I mean... that's where Tinder gets benefits from —Jimin shrugged—. Although it's not like you really need it. You're the first person I've seen that's able to get a girl's attention by just saying a word.

—Who says I'm using it because I need it? I said I was just testing it —he excused himself—. I don't need it.

He did need it though. At least for the short while that trance with Y/n lasted.

—Whatever —Jimin rolled his eyes—, there's a woman asking about you outside.

And said woman wasn't Y/n, even if he hoped it was. Jimin knew her, so he'd have said she was the one asking about him, instead of referring to a random person.

He sees Y/n coming back later than usual with her lipstick completely messed. If it was again that insurance commercial that bothered him not even two weeks back...

Jungkook was thinking of everything he'd tell the person outside if it was anyone he wasn't interested in seeing. He had enough money to pay the rent, survive and keep the business, anything else was a privilege he couldn't afford to have.

After huffing and saving his phone in the back pocket of his pants, he walked outside the small office and crossed the short corridor that led to the rest of the gym. He could see the silhouette of a tall well-dressed woman, who certainly didn't seem like she was there to train. Jungkook's steps suddenly became slower when she moved her left arm to her side, letting him see a bracelet he recognized almost instantly -and that he hoped was only a coincidence.

He didn't understand how she had the audacity to show up there, wearing a bracelet his father gifted to her, after everything she did to the both of them.

—What are you doing here?

It was shocking for him to see how those ten years away from each other fell on her, making her look completely different from what he remembered. The wrinkles in her face were a bit more marked, her usual long hair was chopped to her shoulders while also losing the glow it had when he was younger.

It just made him aware of how long it had been since he last saw her. Younger, selfish, and completely self-absorbed.

—I told you I needed to talk with you —she insisted.

—And I think I told you I have nothing to talk with you —he snapped back, resting his hands on his hips.

Yun Hee was also aware of the way years went through her son, giving him a manlier and more mature aura than he had when she last saw him. It didn't matter how many piercings he added to his face and ears, or how many tattoos he inked on the skin of his arms, his rounded face still remained the same as when he was sixteen, even if his big doe eyes squinted at her with disgust.

—How did you know how to find me?

—I searched you up on Instagram, and the location of this place appeared in some of your posts. I guessed you were working here...

—Well, those guesses should've taken you to the point of "If someone says they don't want to see you around them, don't go where they are". I think it's common sense.

—It was the only way...

—To what? —he tilted his head— I thought I was clear when I told you I don't care about anything that has something to do with you. It was all over the second you went out that door. You didn't care about dad or I, so why should I care about you or what you have to say now? Does it have something to do with me? Is it something that affects me?

—N... no —she shook her head.

—Then save it up because I don't wanna hear it. And don't show your face in front of me again —he roughly asked—. I really don't want to do anything I'll regret. Got it?

After clicking his tongue, he didn't allow his mother to say anything else. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to hear it. He had been doing great the past ten years, it took him so long to get over everything she destroyed, he didn't need her to do any of that back again.

—If she comes asking for me again —he told Jimin, stepping inside the office again—, tell her I'm not here even if I am. Unless you want to deal with the consequences.

Jimin had seen his friend in all sorts of moods, in different situations, but it was never as serious as angry as that day. And he didn't want to know how serious he actually was about it. At the end of the day, whatever problem he had with that woman was his business, and he had no reason to stand in between to try to understand it.

Jungkook dragged his feet up the last two steps of the stairs, resting his head heavily against his door as he pouted.

It was the first time that happened to him, and he couldn't believe in what moment it all escaped his control.

That girl was basically ready for him, he had the chance to have an amazing night, and he ruined it by pushing her away after he imagined Y/n's for a quick second. He stepped on the floor, annoyed, kicking the ground before he started whining.

What the hell was wrong with him? Y/n was like a curse which he had no control over, she was ruling everything in... Right, the curse.

But among all the girls in the world, Y/n was really the one who would be punishing him? Seriously? The universe had to be joking if she was the karma he was supposed to face.

He certainly was tripping.

Shortly after he stepped inside his apartment, he heard the bell of the elevator stopping at his floor, having him faking pretending how much he didn't care about who it could be when he realized how fast he moved back to the door to check through the peephole. He moved quickly when he recognized her figure and the same dress she was wearing that morning, stepping outside his place to pretend he was just getting out.

—Oh, 3A, we see each other again —he chuckled.

—Unfortunately —she commented under her breath.

—How was the interview?

He asked that question to hide the fact of how annoyed he was over her pink lipstick being completely smudged, surprising the corners and the outlines of her lips. She for sure had an amazing interview by the looks of her messy hair and fucked up make up.

—Good —she mentioned.

—I can tell. Did you use your mouth too much? —he bitterly asked, raising his eyebrows.

Y/n looked at him confused, standing by her door, when he pointed at his own lips with his index. Her hand slowly covered her mouth, moving her thumb and index on the surroundings of her lips to find the sticky product somewhere other than her lips. She was so busy running away from the fact that she kissed Kyle out of desperation to feel attracted to someone else, that she didn't even care about her looks because she didn't expect to come across anyone on the way from the entrance to her house.

—You don't need to lie to me —he giggled—. I'm not the jealous type, so I don't really mind if you make out with someone else. I don't care about sharing.

But he did. He really did. Why was his blood boiling just after imagining Y/n kissing another guy?

—I din't cir ibit shiring —she mocked him—. I didn't lie. I had the interview, but then I met with someone and... Why am I giving you any explanations? —she stopped herself— Get lost —she repeated the same phrase she said in the morning.

Jungkook found himself in between the stairs and his door, groaning out of frustration before he stepped back inside his apartment. He needed to pay a quick visit to the tarot reader before things got out of his control. 

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[blazingstar29]

i've been cooking up some icemav headcanons:

ice isn't really a cuddler. he preferred brief touches until he met mav. but they're both touchstarved and whenever mav gets super worried or anxious, ice will pull him onto a couch or a bed or even the floor and just. hold him.

mav is good at survival. he grew up in the system, so he knows how to get cheap food, clothing, and transportation. he lives bare minimum. he didn't really have a lot of personal items, so he doesn't even know where to start. 

where mav has no idea, ice thrives to give people gifts to show his love. it starts small, with just a keychain or a pocket knife, but as he learns that mav has almost nothing luxurious in his life, it grows. he buys a rug for the living room, a mini fridge for beers, a tv, lawn chairs and a table for his patio.

Pete wears exclusively white tees and jeans until ice buys him a sweater. it's so soft and comfortable that pete demands to go with ice on another trip to the store. Ice, of course, buys him an absurd amount of clothing. he refuses to take no for an answer. 

while they're both as stubborn as donkeys, they never argue about cooking and food. mav’s so used to barely getting by that he can't argue with rich home cooked meals

and also an idea:

SLICEMAV RAISNG BRADLEY

omfg YES

I have this hc that when maverick is anxious at home he loops his fingers in ice’s belt buckles just to be close to him without disrupting what they’re doing.

the habit gets passed onto bradley who unwittingly does the same thing to jake

i hc that maverick will spend money but he’s an anxious spender so it has to be something he knows he’ll love and care abojt for a while (i.e that out of sight out of mind fic i wrote aged ago lol) so he finds it hard to spend money on clothes because he’s always in a uniform at work

ice is a giver but esp if he finds touch a little harder because he still wants to express love

food is the easier language for the both of them <33

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

make it sapphic part two: lexthan

(paulkins) (lautski) (... ted) (masterpost)

this one just kind of feels like essentially canon even more so than the paulkins one this is just them sorry idk what to tell u @femslashfortnight

genderswap breakdown below cut:

i’m so sorry mariah-ethan truthers, i swear i’m one of you, i swear, but i’m legally required to make ethan the most italian-american woman you’ve ever seen in your life

deeply out of character hair care routine like it would be so much more convenient to cut it shorter or thin it out but she’d rather die (and lex would kill her)

the cornicello is a everyday requirement (obviously) (i’m convinced in any universe she also has gifted lex one that she wears under her shirts)

her and lex are that one lesbian doing make up meme but like neither of them know what the fuck they are doing

almost always wears skirts over jeans exclusively because everytime i watch black friday i think ethan’s flannel is a skirt over his jeans

her and lex share a lot of clothing 

she still works in the garage with her dad but it’s something that was absolutely a long standing argument, where, like, when she was a kid her dad always let her help and hang around because it was ‘cute’ but when she because a ‘woman’ and actually wanted to work there he got weird about it (once again i’m just projecting the most italian american energy onto this woman)

[faghubby]

Christmas Miracle

"Paulie come here" Morgan called from the bedroom. I stopped what I was doing and rush to her.

"I have decided to give you the best Christmas present ever" Morgan told me. "But first I want you to make yourself all girlie" she teased stepping close to me. She kissed my neck. I wasted no time first jumping in the shower to touch up any loose hairs I might have.

Morgan had helped me explore my submissive nature over the past two years. It had started as a game, but grew. I now exclusively wore not only panties but often a bra and stockings as well under my clothes. Morgan had tought me how to do my makeup and hair. Having me dress fully as a woman most weekends. Morgan and I had not had traditional sex in almost a year. Instead often lesbian sex. Using toys on each other and me orally pleasing her. On rare occasions she would stroke my dick. Morgan also cuckold me. But we didn't talk about it. As she put it, "it is none of your business what I do with men"

As I got out if the shower I found a red Christmas dress waiting for me. Along with sexy red lingerie. I got dressed. And did my makeup. I looked very sexy in my Christmas outfit I thought. Morgan was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve tee shirt when I found her. I towered over her in my 3 inch heels.

"You look perfect" Morgan smiled.

"Now, I decided for Christmas I am giving you freedom" she smiled. "No more hiding, I am going to help you introduce Paulina to the world." She told me. I was a bit worried.

"So we have an appointment to have our Christmas pictures taken. She grabbed her keys and led me to the car. I had been out dressed before but she drove to a local shop and made me go in. The photographer knew all about what she wanted posing us with me in the submissive role. Sitting with Morgan above me. Or playful where Morgan lifted me up. Morgan was happy with the pics. Not even letting me look. She chose one for a mass online card to everyone we knew.

"Paulina, come hit send" she told me. I hesitated.

"You know you want everyone to know, I think the family already suspects" Morgan told me. As I stood there the photographer reached under my dress. Startled I hit send.

"Do you want him" Morgan whispered in my ear. She didn't wait for an answer she pushed me to my knees. I had never sucked a real cock. Only Morgan's toys. I reached up and unzipped his pants. And pulled out his cock. Morgan stepped away as I took his cock in my mouth.

Meanwhile I heard my phone start digging like crazy. Morgan laughed

"OH everyone loves the pic baby. Even your mom" she told me.

"You seem to be enjoying Brad's cock baby" she said as I gagged on it. Just then he grabbed my head and pumped his load down my throat. I couldn't swallow fast enough gagging and coughing spitting his cum all over myself.

"Paulina you need to learn to swallow" Morgan said. She pushed me back to his cock. "Clean him up at least" I licked his softening cock and balls clean. I felt ashamed of what I had done as I stood up.

"Don't worry baby, I will find you lots of cocks to suck" Morgan told me. I was rock hard in my panties it showed thru the tight dress.

"Someone really liked sucking cock" Morgan giggled as Brad zipped up his pants and unlocked the door. I had not even realized he had locked it. Morgan led me out with cum still on my dress and my dick rock hard bulging my dress. Morgan read me my messages as I drove home.

"Your boss said you look pretty" she laughed. "Maybe you could work out a way to get a raise"

"John, says he can't wait to fuck me again" Morgan commented about my cousin

"Your mom said she loves the dress, wants to know if you will be wearing it to Christmas dinner" Morgan kept answering the messages but didn't tell me what she replied.

"Wow, Joe (my best friend) has a big cock" she said showing me a dick pic he sent me. When we got home we saw our neighbor staring at us with disgust.

"Go get the mail" Morgan told me. I walked to the end of the driveway. When I came inside. Morgan was stripped down to just her plain white panties.

"You where so naughty. Sucking Brad's cock" she told me. She picked up a leather strap.

'What is that for?" I said my voice shaking.

"Call Joe, ask him to come over and fuck you" she told me. She wrapped the leather strap gently around my neck.

"call Joe, if you don't want to let him fuck you, ask him to come fuck me" she told me. I picked up my phone.

"Hey sissy" Joe said as he answered.

"Joe, um you have a nice cock" I stuttered. Why did I say that?

"well thank you" he laughed.

"Would you like to come over?" I asked softly

"Be there soon" he said and hung up.

"You didn't ask him" Morgan said taking the leather strap.

"Bend over the couch with you panties pulled down" she ordered me. We had never even spoken about this. But I did as she said.

SMACK the strap stung my ass. I jumped.

"Don't move" Morgan said as a second blow hit.

"Want another or are you ready to admit what you are to the world" she asked. I didn't want another that was for sure. She squirted lube in my ass.

"when Joe gets here tell him what you did with Brad and ask him to help you do better" she told me. She shoved a large plug in my ass. She had me kneel by the front door and wait. Joe knocked a few minutes later I just said come in.

"Don't you look hot" Joe said.

"I tried to suck a cock today, but couldn't swallow. Will you help me?" I said. He dropped his pants he wore no underwear. I took him in my mouth.

"OH yes, suck my cock, you can suck it everyday if you want to" he told me.

"Hello, Morgan" Joe said I went to turn my head but Joe help my head on his cock.

"Your wife is so hot" Joe told me. As I continued to suck his cock. Morgan came up behind me and pushed on the plug in my ass. I moaned around Joe's cock.

"Like this Morgan said taking Joe's cock and sucking on it then put it back in my mouth. And his balls sweety. Lick and suck his balls. I did as she instructed. She then whispered in my ear.

"Joe will you please Fuck Morgan for me, she needs a man to fuck her" I pleaded. Morgan kissed my cheek and stood. joe carried her to our room and locked the door. I sat and listened to then fuck. Morgan moaned and cried out several times. As I heard Joe grunting.

The door opened suddenly and Joe appeared. His cock hanging soft. He waited a moment. Without a word I licked him clean tasting both his and Morgan's juices.

"You are a bitch now" Joe told me. As he went to gather his clothes from the front hall. I found Morgan in bed.naked her pussy red and swollen with Joe's seed leaking from it.

"Do you want to clean me? She asked. I just buried my head between her thighs without a word.

"You can never go back, everyone knows" Morgan reminded me. As she had me clean out all my male clothes from my closet.

[safety-pin-punk]

Hi there!! So uh, i was wondering (as a baby punk/goth) if you have any suggestions as to how to subtly dress more punk?? I would love to go full out with it, but i couldn’t without getting into an argument, so if you have any tips, let me know :] thank you!!

Ideas for subtly adding alternative elements to outfits:

Safety pins. Add them any and everywhere. I have them on the lapels of almost every jacket I own, and up the back of a pair of converse (possibly being used to keep said pair of converse together). But adding them to bags or as earrings (or hanging from earrings) works just as well!

Band t shirts. You can buy them anywhere and pair them with anything. Simply jeans and a band t shirt are fairly common even for non-alt people

Start adding some black and other dark elements to your outfits. Even if its just a black friendship bracelet. Maybe it has beads on it that spell out a band name?

Learn how to do simple sewing and mending. The more times something is repaired, the cooler it looks in my opinion. AND thats something that is honestly a life skill and everyone should be able to do if they are physically able

Ladder lace your shoes (I have a how to here), its subtle but can tell someone who knows what they are looking for a lot

Ripped jeans are in fashion. Just make your own out of an old pair, it will look more alt and be cheaper. And you can tell your parents that you were just saving money and making ‘cooler jeans than the people who get them pre-ripped’ should work cause a lot of older people seem to have beef with pre-ripped jeans

Go just a *little* heavier on the eye make up (but not so much you get in trouble). And if anyone says anything about it, there are plenty of more mainstream artists you can say you drew inspiration from (Kiss, Mick Jagger, Prince, David Bowie. All musicians that parents are likely to have listened to)

Choose boots, converse, or vans over other options if you have the choice. Other options are fine (and probably cheaper unless you thrift them) but it’s undeniable that those shoes are staples of alt fashion

Simple chain necklace. Get it from a craft store. Its small, its subtle, it can be hidden under your shirt

If you or your family is religious (specifically christian here), get a stylized cross to wear. I have a cool looking metal one made out of nails. You could always claim that it represents something about Jesus’ suffering or something

DIY in general, even if it doesn’t look punk/alt. The fact that it was DIY basically makes it punk/alt

I’m not Goth, nor do I know *much* about Goth fashion, BUT, I think lace is pretty common? And not exclusive to alt spaces, soo you can just say you think its pretty

Any other ideas or tips for anon are welcome of course!!! (Especially on the goth stuff here lol)

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

my boy only breaks his favourite toys — lewis hamilton x nico rosberg (full work)

chapter 3 - touch me

tags: angst, smut, drinking, semi-public nsfw

summary: 2015. it’s lewis’ birthday. nico shows up

Lewis didn’t feel very much excited to celebrate his birthday that night.

He won the last race and he was happy about it, but as usual that caused him to fight with his best friend. He was so tired of their on-and-off unofficial relationship, which was more off than ever. Nico almost didn’t talk to him at all. They were just friends with benefits that weren’t even friends anymore. And Lewis wasn’t getting any benefit from the situation either.

When racing Lewis was invincible and he didn’t cared about anything but to win. But when the weekend was over, he missed holding Nico, spending time with him, kissing him without any rage or any post podium adrenaline.

After the last race, Nico wanted definitive closure. “For real this time” he had said.

Lewis felt incredibly sad all the time since then. It already happened and they managed to get back together anyway, but he feared they couldn’t fix it this time.

Nico didn’t come to the party, nor called to say happy birthday. Lewis spent the day checking the phone, desperately looking for any text message. All in vain. His heart was aching by the end of the day.

However, after a few drinks, the feeling was almost gone. With his small group of friends, Lewis decided to keep having fun in an exclusive club in Monaco. He didn’t really want to stop and make way to the heartache coming back.

The car ride to the club was crazy, everybody was super excited, and the club was a nice place, full of famous people. Music loud enough he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.

He was sitting on a couch, laughing with one his friend, a beautiful girl sitting on his lap and one by his side, when he spotted a face in the crowd he could recognise among thousands.

Nico Rosberg approached the group of guys. He was wearing a white shirt under a black open gilet and dark jeans. Lewis couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he already that drunk he was imagining his now ex lover?

“Hi.” Nico’s glance lingered for a second on the girl on his lap, then quickly returned on him.

Safe to say all his friends’ were on Nico.

Lewis excused himself to the girl and stood up. He softly put his hand on Nico’s arm and made his way with him towards a more isolated side of the place. His heart was pounding so violently he began to fear it would come out of his chest.

“You’re here.” Lewis’ eyes were full of hope. If he was sober, he would’ve probably been furious, but God, he could’ve asked him to get on his knees right there in front of everyone and he would’ve do it without hesitation.

“I–“ Nico put his hands on his pockets, gazing down on his feet. “I wanted to congratulate you for the last race. I’m sorry for how I behaved after that. I wasn’t feeling quite myself.”

Those weren’t a lot of words, it was rather a poorly formulated apology, however Lewis had forgiven him as soon as he saw his blond hair and unmistakable figure walk up from the crowd.

“So… 30 years old.” Nico’s lips turned in a little smile. “You will forever be a that kid in my eyes. Happy birthday.”

Nico didn’t look okay. He looked exactly like someone who also spent days overthinking, picking up the phone and then immediately changing his mind and putting it back down. Hell, he looked like he cried his eyes out. Like he was doubting all his life choices.

But again, Lewis was way too drunk to process or even notice all of this. He was just euphoric to see him. “Thank you.”

They looked at each other without saying anything for a time. Then Lewis cleared his throat. “Come now, I want you to meet my friends, they’re fan of yours.”

They went back to the group. Nico shook hands with all his friends, a big smile on his face. They offered him a drink, which he gladly welcomed. The atmosphere definitely looked more festive now.

They talked about futile arguments, making fun of the motorsport community, of the press, of the team bosses. They completely forgot about their fight, about every bad word they had said to each other. That night they were just two boys having a lot of fun.

Nico took advantage of a pause to ask a question. “Would you like to dance?”

Lewis didn���t hesitate to nod. “Sure.”

Nico took his hand and dragged him on the dance floor. They were suddenly surrounded by music blasting, neon lights and people dancing and nobody seemed to care about them. It was the best sensation ever.

They danced like crazy for they didn’t even know how much, both so drunk they didn’t mind their bodies bumping into each other.

Lewis’ hand land on Nico’s waist and Nico’s on his shoulder. Smiles wouldn’t leave their faces. They didn’t want anything else than each other in that moment.

Nico turned around in a move, gently pressing his back on Lewis’ chest, his ass brushing on the other’s lower abdomen. That seemed to bring Lewis over the edge. He shifted both his hands on Nico’s hips, searching for more contact, his mind blurred by alcohol and lust.

Lewis was breathing heavily in Nico’s ear, and that was affecting him too. Honestly, the german could only think about his dick inside him.

“Nico.” Lewis was loosing his mind as Nico was at that point almost rubbing against him. He held tightly on his hips following his movements. “I miss you.”

Of course Nico couldn’t hear any of that, but his lips were very much near touching Lewis’. He turned around again to face him and finally removed the distance between them, throwing his arms around his neck and quickly getting rid of Lewis’ hat. Nico always said it was so “Justin Bieber” of him to wear it backwards.

They kissed passionately for a time that seemed infinite. Lewis’ hands were never leaving his ass, his tongue entwined with Nico’s. He wished they were in his bedroom. Fucking. Slowly.

Then suddenly Nico broke the kiss. Lewis immediately searched for more but Nico pulled away, removing Lewis’ hands from his back. Lewis felt the world collapsing.

“I’m sorry, we can’t. I can’t.” Almost cried out Nico in the surrounding noise. He covered his eyes with his hands. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“What do you mean?” Lewis’ tried to hug him, to comfort him, but Nico flinched. “I love you.”

The blond man distanced himself more and more, nothing but doubt and sadness in his eyes. And tears. There were tears too.

“Please don’t go.” I can’t breath without you.

And just like that, he disappeared in the crowd.

Right away, Lewis began looking for him in the chaos, reaching the exit as soon as he could. He was gone. He wanted to cry so hard. He didn’t get what he was doing wrong. Why the hell did he always fall for his apologies?

Lewis came back to his friends with his heart aching again, but now his head was too. He almost collapsed on the couch, too drunk to even stand on his feet. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget everything the morning after because he wanted to remember their last kiss forever.

“Where did your boyfriend go?” One of his friends asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” He managed to say.

“Whatever, but I think he took your hat.”

And that was his last memory of that night.