#anyway if you have a car and you know someone whose always looking for a ride

[shalomniscient]

arlecchino f1au rivals to lovers is always in the back of my mind i promise but hear me out………. f1 driver!arle x motogp rider!reader. star driver x star rider. you get invited out to an f1 race maybe by a sponsor or something and post-race (which arlecchino won, obviously) you sneak ‘round the back where you’re definitely not supposed to be to have a close-up look at her machine. you’re about to reach out and touch it when arle rounds the corner and asks you what the hell you think you’re doing. you just grin and say, “was checking out your ride, hotshot. cute car,” and you visibly see a muscle in her jaw twitch. her hair is a little mussed from being in her helmet, and there’s a rugged handsomeness to her you can’t deny. she’s still not thrilled at the fact that someone she doesn’t know is getting so close to her car, but she’s also a little intrigued by how entirely unbothered you are in her presence. it’s been a while since anyone has spoken to her like a person instead of an idol, a genius, a perfected freak of nature whose cradle was probably a cockpit. she’s almost a little disappointed when she has to leave for all the typical post-race bureaucracy, but all you do is flash her that same grin and invite her out on a ride. she surprises herself when she agrees.

(she finds out eventually that bikes most certainly aren’t her thing. but holding onto your waist while you cruise is a nice excuse to be close to someone, so she follows you anyway—and maybe you learn to be a little more careful, and maybe she learns to be a little more careless.)

[iamnotawomanimagod]

sometimes seemingly small shit will stick with you forever. when I was a teenager, my parents were drunk all the time and neither could nor would give me rides to places I wanted to go. so if I wanted to go see friends, do an after-school activity, or get a part-time job, I had to rely on the kindness of my friends/acquaintances (or, in reality, their parents) to be able to leave my house. and I hated being at home, because of the aforementioned constant drunkenness of my parents.

I'm 31. it's been almost 15 years since I've been in that situation. if I get stuck somewhere, I can call my husband. worst case, I have a cell phone and money and I could do a rideshare. more importantly, I drive now and I have my own car. I'm never stuck anywhere. I don't have to rely on the kindness of people who aren't responsible for my well-being. I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe.

and yet one of my most frequent stress dreams is being stuck somewhere. not having a ride home. having to walk in the dark and cold after school. being stuck with drunk people and having no escape. getting lost by taking the bus.

my parents were pretty shitty, but even still, I have to wonder - if they knew then that I'd still be having nightmares about this in my 30s, would they have tried harder? could they have? I don't know. addiction is a monster and addicts often make for shitty parents.

I just wish I could go back in time and give myself a ride. I guess I can do that now. but that doesn't stop the nightmares.

[v4mp1re-haven]

'•.¸♡'Things they do that reminds you they love you.♡¸.•'

✦BAKUGO KATSUKI ✦ SHOTO TODOROKI ✦ IZUKU MIDORIYA✦

CW ➸ Spelling errors?

WHAT MUSIC IS PLAYING? ♫ Fluff, corny sweet fluff.

Bakugo Katsukiೃ⁀➷

: ̗̀➛ When he reminds you to get ready for dinner at that one restaurant you love so much. He gets dressed up in his black and red tux, walking you to the car and driving you to a small hole in the wall diner he took you to for your first date. Every waitress there knows your orders by heart, having served you well over 20 times at this point.

: ̗̀➛When he patches you up after a rough patrol day, cursing to himself saying “If I ever see that guy again I’ll blast him to pieces.” His course fingers dig deep into your skin while he bandages your arm and leg. If he hears you whine he'll tsk and go lighter.

: ̗̀➛ How he almost always makes you a homemade lunch before you leave for patrol and always makes sure you take it. If you forget he’ll show up to where your patrolling and hit you on the back of your head, shoving the lunch into your hands before berating you on how “your such an airhead!” and staring at you as you eat.

: ̗̀➛ When your laying down on the couch together and he makes sure to grab your favorite pillow and blanket, though if you say anything about it he'll deny it and use them for himself.

: ̗̀➛ How he always knows when your feeling lonely or sad, Bakugo isn't a great person when it comes to comforting someone but he always tries for you. gathering together your favorite snacks and putting on your favorite movie or show so its just you laying down together. He complains about how stupid the show is, but he's secretly super engrossed into the drama going on.

: ̗̀➛ The way he toys with the solid black titanium ring on his ring finger when he's stressed or anxious. The thought of coming back home to you calming him down and getting him through the situations at hand.

: ̗̀➛ How when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep he plays with your hair and kisses you on your forehead. His hands lying on your waist and his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you feather light kisses before saying a quiet “I love you.”

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*•´¨*•.¸

Shoto Todoroki ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

༊*·˚Shoto isn’t one for words or touch, but when he sees you need help or are really tired with dishes or dinner while it’s your turn he’ll immediately help you and tell you to “take a break.” Moving you out the way with his hand on your waist, giving you a small peck on the cheek before finishing the job.

༊*·˚ How he would never usually offer his food to anyone. But when it comes to you he gives you half of everything on his plate. "are you hungry?" he says, his hand extended offering you something to eat.

༊*·˚ Anytime your anniversary rolls around he'll plane a very romantic date. He takes his time planning them, Lights strung up in-between branches of a willow tree the yellowish bulbs showing the surroundings. He set down a blanket and got your favorite foods and drinks, along with his own as well. Your surprised to find a shiny ring between the lettuce and bread of your sandwhich.

༊*·˚ When his eyes light up anytime he sees you in a room or crowd. A small smile graces over his face when he sees you at any of his fan events, dropping everything no matter whose in line to kiss you on the cheek and walk you to his station.

༊*·˚ The way he cries when he sees you walk down the isle, looking sickeningly sweet and beautiful. His eyes are red and puffy as he admires you from his place at the altar.

༊*·˚ When he buys your amazon cart full of decorations for the house you bought together. Even though you told him you could buy it yourself he insisted swearing that "you can get me something later." you know its a lie though, but you play into it and thank him anyway.

༊*·˚ When he gets hit on randomly, of course this comes with being a hero, you both get it. He always ignores the unlucky suitors and walks over to you, sticking by your side as he suddenly becomes affectionate and touchy. When it happens to you he quickly places himself between you and whoever dared to try and flirt with you, showing off your ring finger saying "Oh did you want to know where the ring is from?" his tone passive aggressive and eyes filled with faux kindness.

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙

.·:¨༺ Izuku Midoriya ༻¨:·.

¸.☆.¸ The Daily love letters or paragraphs he writes you before leaving for patrol or a mission. Going into deep description on how much he loves you and how awesome he thinks you are.

¸.☆.¸ When he comes back from a mission all bloody and beat the bandages hardly holding him together as he plops down on the bed, laying his head on top of you snoring while he almost immediately passes out. Dark green hair messy and strewn out as dirt and grime cover the usual silkiness of it.

¸.☆.¸ How he worships everything you do, giving your lit up figure on the television screen his full attention while you're being interviewed about a villain you took down. His scarred hand writing down notes into one of the many journals he has filled to the brim with notes exclusively for you. Little sketches and doodles on almost every page.

¸.☆.¸ The way He plays your favorite music in the car even if he doesn't like it, rolling down the windows and blasting it while he takes you out for a surprise carnival date. Though it doesn't last long before you have to leave, being bombarded by fans of you both.

¸.☆.¸ How he's quick to defend you in any scandal or rumor someone starts about you. If he's in an interview and they ask him about said rumor his face contorts to one of disgust to the reporter and he blurts out "It's not any of your business but that would never happen, now I'm sure they would appreciate if you stopped spreading lies." Walking off before they can interrogate him further.

¸.☆.¸ He has a small section in his office dedicated to you. He has almost every piece of your merch, whether its shirts, flags, stickers, or some type of food, he has it. They sit on a large table no ones allowed to touch besides him and maybe his friends. On his desk he keeps photos of you and him on dates, his favorite one is the photo he took of you passed out after a rough day- drooling all over your pillow.

¸.☆.¸ You know Midoriya loves you when he Gets down on one knee a blushing mess, struggling to ask that one awaited question. His eyes are burning and briming with tears that are threatening to spill. His hands shaking as the velvet box laid open in his palm, exposing the shiny bright ring inside, covered by the fabric of a soft pillow beneath it. "Will-" he stutters as he looks into your eyes, the same way he's always looked at them, "Will you marry me?" And of course, you say yes.

OK! first full write even though its in head-canon style! please send in any requests or asks for me to write, i have a full list of what fandoms i write for.

[encasedinobsidian]

smalltown shit

Charlie Swan x fem!reader [explicit, 18+]

Summary: "You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar where Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. Warnings: 3.4k ish words. Porn with minimal plot, implied age gap, unprotected PIV, oral sex, truck sex, alcohol, pining, no use of y/n. This was written a bit fast lmfao A/N: This is my first ever Charlie Swan fic! It started as a joke (just like they all do), but I thought it might be fun to do something different. In case you enjoy my writing and want to see more, here are links to my ao3 and to a heavily Charlie inspired Narcos fanfic I wrote recently :)

Wearing a man down takes a while. It takes patience, a steady effort, bit by bit, like the thick clouds covering the sky above the evergreens only letting down a single drop of rain at a time. Charlie doesn’t notice them at first — the little droplets of water he’s too used to from living in Forks, rain that might let up for a little while in July but comes back every time, like something he can count on if nothing else in this world.

They land on his jacket, on his badges, on his nametag — C. Swan in yellow lettering — on the black strands of his hair. One by one, they seep in, quickly forgotten, followed by more until the windshield wipers on his police cruiser push away the onslaught of rain that’s inevitable at this time of year, on a foggy, hazy October evening when the headlights of the car light the way to his house, and he’s already drenched when he makes his way inside and changes out of his uniform.

They land on the thick flannel of a jacket that always hangs in his hallway, the house empty when he locks the door behind him and runs to his truck. The rain gets on his jeans, on his hair, it gets on the Mariners sweater underneath his jacket. The lettering across his chest reveals itself when he takes off the flannel and hangs it over the back of the chair he sits down on, nodding towards his friend at the bar. 

His eyes scan the room from corner to corner, lazily combing through the other patrons of the bar until he spots you and you lock eyes. And you’re frozen, your friends’ voices becoming a buzzing murmur next to you as you try not to move, try not to startle the man whose attention you’ve pathetically yearned for, for so long, longer than you’ll ever admit to the girls at your table, or even to yourself. 

You have it now, for a moment that stretches like a ring in your ear, long enough for your lips to part, for you to swallow tightly around the fizzy, sweet sip in your mouth, to lick the drop that slides down your bottom lip. His gaze is as intense as it is dark, piercing through the crowd of people in a small bar in a place that nobody can place on a map, where you think it must just be a hallucination or that he’s looking at someone behind you. 

But behind you is a window, and behind the window is nothing but a cover of trees, and his eyes flash open for a split second before they narrow, then trace down, only a quick glance at your torso before they slide back up. He clears his throat, swallows, and averts his eyes, attention caught by the beer set down in front of him. He nods and says something, then takes a sip, a little hastily, inhaling deeply before he leans back. 

And then, there is nothing to do but to look and to wait. 

Nothing to do but wait until he begins to feel those drops of attention, of glances and gazes from your end of the room. He’s not chief Swan under this roof — he’s Charlie, he’s a man in his early forties, he’s a single dad whose daughter came to stay with him recently. He’s a man with dark eyes and dark eyebrows, with a thick mustache and a gorgeous smile you know he hides. Maybe it’s rude to spy, but you’ve had no other real option — a chronically good girl from the start, never acknowledged by any of the Forks PD officers, scurrying away from house parties at the first flash of a blue light, out through the yard and home to your parents’ house. 

You haven’t gotten any attention from him since returning to your hometown either, coming back after nearly a decade away, still a goody two shoes through and through who doesn’t leave the house after darkness settles in the streets. So all you have is random encounters, one-sided as they’ve all been, random sightings in bars and across the street, at a restaurant next to his daughter. And he’s always quiet, always observing his environment without interaction. 

Until now, when it all seems to shatter in an instant, and his usual, calm demeanor is replaced by something flustered, maybe even nervous if you dare to think so. He takes to laughter a little too quickly, he smiles too much, nods along too enthusiastically when Billy speaks to him on his left.  

You can’t hear anything, regretfully — the rain drums on the window beside you and slides down to obscure the view of the forest that the bar is situated on the outskirts of. Your friends talk about something, something about nothing about guys or work or God knows what it is this time. Your elbows rest on the table and the top of a plastic straw sits between your lips as you slowly sip your drink. 

Sometimes he looks over, following the same routine every time as the hour passes; a lull in the conversation, a polite smile, his eyes sliding down to the table, a glance up, and then his head turning slightly, eyes shifting in your direction until they meet yours and he quickly dodges the attention, straightening his back and clearing his throat. 

Once, and only once, he lingers. 

He lets his eyes narrow, focusing on you while you pretend to look away. And he shouldn’t fall for little tricks like this, silly little girl tricks meant to dupe men much younger and dumber than himself, but he’s only a man, isn’t he? 

So it shouldn’t be surprising that, when his friends excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke or to the bar for another round, he leans back and remains seated. And there is no other time but the present, so without excusing yourself, you suck down the rest of your drink, let the bottom of the glass slam against the tabletop, stand up and walk over to him. 

You take a seat across from him and hold out your hand, your name the first thing out of your mouth and a firm handshake given when he reaches out. 

“Charlie,” he says, and the nervousness you saw earlier must be nothing but an illusion. 

“Charlie,” you repeat, a little softer and a little sweeter, “How’s your night going?” 

“It’s alright.” God, he’s dry. If you were drunk, you’d make a joke about how wet it makes you. “And yours?” he asks. 

“Pretty good. Better now.” 

He breathes a laugh and looks around, presumably trying to figure out where you came from, but there are no answers in a bar full of people looking the other way. 

“Haven’t seen you around,” he says, “Are you from out of town?” 

“Nope, from here. I was gone for, say, eight years getting my degrees, though.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, and you indulge him for a little while, answering questions you can’t tell if he’s asking as a father or a man, questions that come from the same place anyway, things he’d ask a young lady as you bet he’d say, to make small talk when he’s forced to. 

It’s not very interesting, but you can’t scare him off either, can’t plop down into his lap and touch his hair and beg for it. It’s a slow process with a man like him, one that takes patience, and little droplets of attention, a splash of flirting here and there, every question back and forth, about school and work and yada yada smalltown shit. It’s like the raindrops seeping into the fabric of his jacket, unnoticeable until it reaches his skin and he’s soaked, a humidity that clings to him, and fog he disappears in. 

You glance up at the door and see his friends at a different table. 

Time ticks by, and Charlie is dry as ever, regardless of how pathetically you try to squeeze your chest together and lean onto the table between you, regardless of how you try to nudge him with the glossy, heeled boot on your foot. He doesn’t budge, he might offer you a smile in response to a fun story but it’s not getting you anywhere. 

It’s time to be aggressive, and when there’s a lull between you, when the bar is still buzzing with chit chat and the lights are still low, you pounce. 

“Are you seeing anyone these days?” you ask. 

The man looks like he wants to laugh. “Uh—” he clears his throat, “No, not right now.”

“Interesting,” you purr, tilting your head to the side and flashing him a smile. “Best news I’ve gotten all day.”

He huffs. “You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar, and Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. 

So you shrug one shoulder and smile, pushing your lips together before they separate, and his eyes are on them so fast that it’s not even funny. “I wouldn’t say so,” you say as you shake your head. 

He almost seems humored, huffing a laugh as he looks around the room and shakes his head. “What about your friends?” he asks, “They don’t miss ya?” 

“Probably not,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at him. “Does it look like they do?” 

You nod towards the table by the windows and his eyes follow, a quick look over at a group of girls all leaning in towards each other in conversation. 

“Guess not,” he says, in the same flat tone of voice. 

He clears his throat again, and his rejection is imminent, you think, so you try again, one last time. 

“You’re very handsome, Charlie.” Your chin rests on your knuckles, head tilted, eyes sweeping over his face like you have nothing to lose, and he might be able to hide his thoughts, but he can’t hide his fluster. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and averts his eyes, looking at nothing in the corner of the room. “You’re not, uh—” He looks up and spins his mostly-empty glass around, “Not too bad yourself.” 

It’s a little bit like pulling teeth. 

“Thank you,” you say, then chew on the inside of your cheek while you try to think up a way to get him out of where he’s stuck, unwilling to make a move. “Could you— could you give me a ride home?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, downing the last of his beer, and he absolutely thinks he has you figured out. His expression seems to default to a scowl, and it’s only then that you realize how cheerful he looked a moment ago. “Alright,” he groans, then mutters something under his breath while he grabs his jacket. “Let’s go.” 

“Thank you, officer,” you beam, jumping up and following him through the bar, heading towards the exit. 

He opens the door and lifts up his jacket to hold it above you, shielding you from the onslaught of rain pouring down when you step away from the awning outside the bar. Golden light shines out from the stained glass window in the door, bathing him in it as he waits for you to take the step you don’t take. 

“I don’t actually need a ride home,” you admit shyly, looking up at him, “I’m just messing with you.” 

He blinks a few times and his eyes shift around as he breathes. “Alright, why did you get me out here then?” 

A laugh breaks out of you as you ask, “It’s not obvious?”

His brows pull together and he begins to shake his head when you roll your eyes, grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. And it could be a mistake, but it doesn’t quite feel like it when his hand finds your hip and he pulls you a little closer, reciprocating the kiss and carefully giving you his tongue. 

He pulls back quickly, looking side to side, “Let’s—” 

“Your truck?”

“Sure, yeah,” he mumbles, and you hurry towards the only red vehicle at the far end of the lot, with Charlie on your heels and the rain beating down on his jacket above you, on his hair and his shoulders, soaking him by the time he steps in front of you and pulls open the passenger door. 

He barely gets inside before you grab the collar of his sweater and pull him in, spit smearing and groans swallowed as you climb onto his lap. He’s hard already, you can feel the thick of his zipper pushing up between your legs, before he even gets his hands on the bunched up fabric of your skirt piled onto your hips, kissing you again. And he lets his palms slide down over it, onto your ass, giving you a tentative squeeze with firm hands, while he grows thicker, harder, little grunts slipping out of him when you roll your hips over that firm bulk, every pass over it smearing wetness into your panties.

Until it’s too much, and the truck is too hot, too humid. You throw off your jacket, toss it into the passenger seat and pull away from him, climbing back into your seat, only on your knees, and begin to work at his belt.

You feel a hand at your shoulder, pushing gently. “You don’t—” he inhales deeply as he shakes his head, “You don’t have to do—” 

Your hands pause at the top of his pants and you peer up at him with a pout. “But I want to,” you say, “Can I?” 

His head hits the back of his seat with a sigh, his eyes closing as he breathes in again and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, “Yeah.”

He helps you with his belt then, undoing it with unsteady hands and lifting his hips when you pull the bunch of his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock, to see the thick length of it, the hair at his base and below his navel. You take it into your hand before he has the chance to say much of anything, and you feel his hand at the back of your neck, brushing your hair away — nothing obstructing his view as you drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft, all the way up to the tip where a bead of precome spills onto your lips. 

He groans then, pushes down the top of his pants a little more and lets you take him into your mouth, his cockhead sliding into the back of your throat while he curses under his breath. Your spit smears over his crown and runs down his length, into the curve of your hand to let you stroke him, and every lick, every pull of your lips, makes him sigh and groan, makes more of his precome seep out onto your tongue for you to taste it, for you to swallow and let the soft wet of your mouth massage him. 

And you think it must have been a while, because you suck and stroke his cock slowly for only a little while before he begins to mumble. “I’m getting, uh— I’m pretty close,” he says, and you pull off of him, still slipping your hand up and down his wet cock while you raise up and kiss the side of his neck. 

He groans then too, grimacing a little. 

“You want to fuck me, Charlie?” you purr, “You want me to ride you?”

He huffs a laugh like he’s surprised. “I don’t have any condoms on me,” he says, his voice flat and dry as it ever was, but a little deeper, raspier, rougher-edged. 

“You could just pull out?” you suggest, licking a stripe up his neck just to feel the goosebumps chasing your tongue on his skin, “I could just swallow it instead.” 

“Jesus,” he breathes, “Yeah... Alright.” 

You pull off one boot and begin to yank at the waistband of your leggings, but he pats his thigh and pulls you back onto his lap. 

“Let me,” he says, pushing his thumb under the soft fabric and the strap of your panties, pulling them down over your leg, only bothering with one and not the other, while the rain hammers down on the windshield and it’s silent for a moment, his hands steady and his gaze focused. His cock is still hard too, heavy as it lays against his stomach. 

You stabilize above him, hovering over where he grabs the root of himself and glides his tip through your folds until he reaches your opening. 

“Down,” he says, and you do as he tells you to, sinking onto his cock with a deep breath, pressing your lips to his so that your sigh is shared, letting the whole thing split you open, taking more and more until your hips are flush with his and he grunts, his cock pulses, you lean back and carefully lift up, then roll back down, slowly riding him, half kissing, half panting into him. 

It’s all slow, deep, squeezing around him, letting him slide out until only his tip stays within, and then taking him back inside and he pushes into your cervix, sure to leave you sore tomorrow. Everything is wet between you, smeared warm and sticky over your inner thighs, his groin, dripping down his shaft and over his balls, soaking into the top of his jeans. 

His cock pushes into the most sensitive, soft part inside of you, over and over, rubbing over it while you reach down to massage your clit, still swapping spit like you’re teenagers and he doesn’t have a decade on you. He twitches inside when you moan for him, groans low and rough when you begin to come and you ride him a little harder, faster.

He grabs your ass, lifts you just enough to get leverage, and starts to fuck you, pushing his face into the side of your neck and grunting into your skin, hot and sweaty at the roots of his hair when your run your fingers through it, trying to find something to hold onto, to stabilize when he hits just the right spot and you feel seconds away from unraveling. And the truck must be shaking, the sounds of your moans are only stifled by the sound of the rain tapping on the roof and sliding down the windows, the dark surroundings of a wet parking lot, the two of you tucked away at the very back while you feel every inch of him filling you, rubbing you, making you come once more. 

Until he grunts a little louder, until he pants, “Fuck, I’m about to come—”

You let your orgasm wane with a few slow rolls, savoring them, so few drags of his length inside that you can count them on one hand, and you lift off, climb over on shaking legs, sticking your bare ass up towards the foggy window and slip his wet cock into your mouth. A firm hand around his base, your tongue licking over his head, you suck him until his breath stutters and he releases hot spurts of come that you swallow while you stroke and tease and take every drop he gives you. 

He’s quiet after that, a careful hand on your back while you lick up the last smears of his orgasm and lay your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him. 

“Did you like it?” you ask. 

“Of course I liked it. Did you like it?” 

“Yeah.” 

He looks out of the window, his cock softening against him while he runs a hand over your hair. “Let me take you to dinner or something,” he says after a minute, “Make me feel less… I don’t know, sleazy?” 

You bite your lip and smile. "Will you drive me home after?”

He rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, catching your gaze with a smirk on his lips and something a little softer in his expression. "I was gonna do that anyway."

[girlokwhatever]

okay guys this is the start of my “big baller” series where two “enemies” (paige and nika) are both in love with their roommate (reader). it’s something different that i’ve been wanting to try so lmk if you like it! it’s not every plot driven and will mostly consist of headcannons, blurbs, ideas, text messages, or social media posts. if you have any thoughts, my inbox is always open!! please enjoy!

— BIG BALLER FLUFF HCS

— paige is the chaotic, energetic one. nika is the calm and relaxed, more levelheaded one. it’s like the best of both worlds! that’s what you tell them anyway.

— when you moved in they were both beyond infatuated with you…. immediately competing for your attention and praise. they already argued a lot before but now it’s even worse, constantly getting on each other’s nerve because they’re both trying to surpass the other.

— once your situation with them starts to change and develop into something more, you really start to notice how different they are from one another. nika is the type to take you out to really fancy dinners at one of those places where they have inedible garnish or something. she’ll pay for the whole thing and even buy you an outfit beforehand to wear. she does it at least twice a month. paige though, she likes to do fun, activity-based stuff that always leaves you exhausted when it’s over. she likes going to the club or a party with you just so you can dance and grind on her. she also likes to go to the park with you, finding a stray basketball and trying to teach you how to play. that’s her way of bonding with you.

— they make you mediate for all of their disagreements. every. single. one. in the end you’re really just trying to get them to be friendly with each other.

— ALWAYS fighting about who gets to sit next to you on the bus, a car, a plane, literally anywhere. they also always fight over whose jersey you’re going to wear for each game. you told them you��ll just take turns and alternate but they still argue about it. paige always insists you wear hers because “it just looks better on you babe,” but nika’s not having it. after each game they’re both racing to get to you so they can get the first hug.

— nika will buy you something nice or give you a sweet little gift like flowers or something and paige will literally regift them to someone else before you can see. when nika asks if you saw them you look at her so confused and paige just giggles silently from the couch like a little menace.

— if you and paige are doing something sweet together without nika…. oh my gosh. paige will literally take pictures of everything and send them to nika just to make her jealous. and it works every time.

— nika will laugh super loudly anytime you’re together in her room or yours just so paige can hear you across the hall. one time paige came bursting into your room asking “what’s so funny huh?” and you’re just glancing between them because you know what’s going on. it makes nika mad when you invite paige in to join you and she gets super snarky LOL.

— at the end of the day, you trying giving them both equal attention because you know if you don’t, you’ll never hear the end of it. somehow you make it work and stop them from ripping each other’s heads off. (you take pictures of them high-fiving or getting along on the court and show them later but they deny it, usually just saying they tried to slap each other but missed or something stupid like that).

[theshippirate22]

listen st4 ROBBED us of so so so much, but really I think the the biggest travesty is the fact that we never got platonic Harringham. Like, of course, platonic Stobin is so perfect in every way- i worship it really- and i don’t mean to minimize that AT ALL but like.

Steve and Chrissy absolutely LOSING THEIR SHIT at a football game.

Steve and Chrissy having a crush on the same baseball player and arguing over which pants his ass looks better in.

Steve and Chrissy giving each other the same ??? look when Robin or Eddie say something nerdy.

Steve and Chrissy going to the gym together and losing track of whose basketball shorts are whose.

Steve and Chrissy bonding over the fact that their mothers hate them.

Steve teaching Chrissy to cook and slowly helping her get over her eating disorder.

Steve and Chrissy sharing tips for sore muscles and collapsing on the couch together with bags of frozen peas and corn after going a little too hard.

Steve and Chrissy going for runs at dawn together and getting back long before Robin or Eddie would ever dream of being awake.

Steve and Chrissy throwing the biggest super bowl party ever and screaming and grabbing each other’s arms every time there’s a touchdown.

Steve, who’s been having migraines since his first concussion, helping Chrissy out, who’s started getting headaches since Vecna fucked with her head.

Chrissy offering to drive Lucas to and from basketball because she’s going to the school for cheer anyway, and it’s one less thing he has to worry about.

Steve and Chrissy sitting in on a DnD game, getting bored a few hours in and going out to the driveway to play Horse (Chrissy has never won- she wants the challenge so she never lets Steve go easy on her and he respects her enough not to)

Steve and Chrissy side-eyeing each other when someone has the AUDACITY to say they like the Colts, knowing full well that they’re going to have to dish on the person the second they get in the car (They know the Colts are Indiana’s team. The Steelers are just… better.)

Steve protecting Chrissy from creepy ex-boyfriends who just want to take advantage of her, and Chrissy protecting Steve from creepy ex-girlfriends who just want to take advantage of him.

Chrissy convincing Steve to get back into swim, and him agreeing as long as she gets back into dance.

Chrissy wearing her whole cheer uniform to his meets and sitting on the edge of the bleachers every time he’s in the pool, palms sweating as he flies through the water- Robin and Eddie went to go get McDonald’s an hour ago- eyes darting from his silhouette to the clock and back again, muttering under her breathe, “Come on, Steve, come on!”

Chrissy screaming when he wins, running to the edge of the pool to grab him, even though he’s soaking wet and she spent so long on her hair and “Holy shit, you did amazing!”

Steve making his own sort of cheer uniform to wear to her competitions, always driving her to them so he can hype her up in the car on the way. Calling “You’re a god, you can crush ‘em with your thighs!” as they split up so she can go to the dressing rooms backstage.

Steve leaping to his feet in the audience to clap the second she’s finished, whether it’s a team dance or a solo, or a duo-She’s the only one worth watching- whistling and cheering for her so loud, it would be a phenomenon if she didn’t hear him.

idk

just let Steve have another bisexual jock bestie who won’t make fun of his interests. Who knows how much he wants this, who knows how hard it is.

idk.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Remember. Be yourself." Molly repeated as she parked the car in front of her parents' house.

"Trust me, you don't want that." Will replied, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He and Molly had been dating for half a year when she had decided it was the time to introduce him to her parents.

"Don't be ridiculous." She laughed.

"Is there anything I should not say? Politics? Religion?" Will double-checked. The first impression from his probably future in-laws was important. Not as much to him as it was to Molly who was often stressed by her parents' antics.

He was doing it for Molly. That's why it had to go right.

"Maybe...maybe talk more about fishing and engines and less about the FBI? My dad is not afraid to be direct when he has some opinions. And he enjoys fishing as well, so it's a win-win?"

Will put on his fakest smile and sighed. "Got it."

He wouldn't have discussed the FBI part of his life with them anyway. He hardly did so with anyone. It occupied a certain locked room in his mind palace. Locked rooms were meant to stay locked.

They got out of the car and knocked at the door.

The first half hour went well. To Will it felt like the families dinners in Christmas movies. Molly's mom smiled too much and laughed at every single thing Will said. Molly looked satisfied and that mattered. The two women would keep the conversation going all the time which was a bit exhausting.

The only time Molly's dad had spoken was when they were welcomed in. He had been quiet and watching Will in complete silence ever since.

It was not difficult to read the room. Right next to him, Molly was stressed. Molly's mom overly-excited and Molly's dad clearly had something on the top of his tongue.

"You worked for the FBI, didn't you?"

"He also likes to fish. You should see his lures. He makes them himself. It's quite impressive." Molly cut him off.

"I was a teacher for a while. Then I worked as a consultant."

"That much I know." Her dad replied, a neutral yet unsatisfied expression on his face.

Then why are you asking? Will wondered.

"Mom, can you pass me the salad?" Molly requested loudly.

"You were the one who caught Lecter."

Will had expected that. It always led to that. Every single conversation about the FBI led to that. He was not taken aback. Molly was a lot more stressed than he was and he wished she would calm down.

"Indirectly. He surrendered."

Now every time he would say that, he would have to block the image of Hannibal kneeling in the snow.

"Dad, have you tried the potatoes?"

"He was your psychiatrist for almost two years until then. Then you ran off to Europe to find him. Quite strange after he gutted you like one would gut the bowels of a fish."

Molly dropped her fork on the floor. Her mom said nothing but walked quickly to the kitchen to bring a clean one for her.

Will was a bit phased by the comparison but found it fitting. Bittersweet.

"You can't catch someone like him by means which are not considered strange."

"And you really ate human flesh?"

"Dad."

"Molly, let me be, we are only chatting. You finally brought in a guy whose greatest achievement was not to win a football match in highschool."

Will subtly placed his right hand on Molly's knee under the table. He had to reassure her. He was okay.

"So, human flesh, right?"

"Right." Will said.

Her dad was a bit disappointed with his dry replies.

"You and Lecter were really close."

"Sorry, my dad loves reading tattlecrime.com ." Molly replied.

If only it was a lie made up by Freddie Lounds.

"So that's not true then?"

"We were close, you can say that, I suppose. It was necessary to get close to him."

He said that more for his own sake. More as a reminder. Old memories flashed through his mind. Hannibal cooking and telling him about the symbolism behind the dish he was preparing. Then he had refilled Will's glass of wine. Will had made a remark, he couldn't remember what but Hannibal had been very amused.

"And you had no regrets when he surrendered?"

"I..."

Blank.

He had only regrets. He would feel completely abandoned if he had not had the regrets to keep him company in the middle of the night. Just like Hannibal's voice. Especially when Will would contradict him and Hannibal would adopt a fake not-knowing stance.

"Dad, of course he had no regrets. He caught a serial killer. He saved hundreds of lives."

God bless Molly who always knew what to say.

"Then why are you now fixing boat engines?"

"Pardon?" Will asked even if he had clearly understood.

"You are young. Helping the FBI is not an ordinary job. Lecter must have broken you so much that you had to leave it all behind and do something mundane."

"Dad, seriously now, stop interrogating Will."

"It's okay, Molly." Will said and then directed his glance directly towards her dad. "It was not Hannibal who broke me." I broke him.

Saying his name didn't feel right. It felt like when you mention a dead relative whose death you had not yet processed. At the same time it felt like Hannibal was in that room, right behind him.

"It was the whole system per se. At some point you get tired of being a tool. If you don't leave, then the FBI will dispose of you if they think you are not functioning anymore. I wanted a much simpler life and I didn't want to put Molly and Wally in any danger."

Her dad was visibly phased by the fact that he used Hannibal's first name. He couldn't say anything to Will's answer.

"Do you drink beer?" The next question came.

He could hear Molly exhale relieved. He felt like he had passed some sort of a test.

At what cost?

Pandora's box had been opened. That room he had carefully locked. And it would take weeks to close it again. It always took a long time.

[thisismeracing]

Just us | LH44

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Pairing: black!singer!reader (she/her) x lewis hamilton

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, it’s not proofread, etc etc. Minors DNI!

summary: Some fans noticed how Leiws is constantly listening to Y/n's songs and decided to back him up and make it happen a bit faster. Will their cupid play work?

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | my taglist

f1updates

liked by lewishamilton, and others

f1updates We have a new guest this weekend 😉

View all 7,634 comments

lewisleclerc WHYS IS LEWIS UNSHAMEFULLY LURKING HERE??? Lmaooo

ynsunshine I am so jealous of lewis rn 😭

auroraf1 she is so pretty I wanna cry

lewis44m They have the same energy istg, both gorgeous, both stylish, both rich. Its their world, we just living in it l, at this point

mercedesamgf1

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, and others

mercedesamgf1 I wonder why he is this happy 🤔🤔🤔🤭

view all 14,328 comments

justusyn LMFAO I love you, mercedes admin!!!

sirlewis44 I love how he tried to be smooth but we were too anxious and did it in less than a month hahahahaha

mercedesmiracle He will absolutely win today, rain or no rain

f1fantasy he looks so good ugh 😩

lewisfan

liked by yourusername, and others

lewisfan Lewis the whole interview vs. Lewis when someone mentioned Yn

view all 3,425 comnents

1directioncars He’s a simp!

princessyn YN LIKED HAHAHAHAH

popyn they are in love, I can’t prove, but I just know they are

winterraces I am so happy, both if theem seem to be glowing lately 🥹

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, lizzobeating, and others

yourusername vroom vroom 💜

view all 18,263 comments

swifttyn madam, whose car is this?

⤷ f1fantasy It def Lewis’

hundredmiles1 Lewis is such a lucky mf 😭 I wanna be him so bad

ynfrance New album dropping when?

ferrarisainz YOURE TELLING ME HE LET HER DRIVE HIS CAR???????!

mercedesmystical the caption is sending me 😂😂😂😂

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and others

lewishamilton just us ❤️

view all 18,930 comments

popyn they are in love, I can prove

lewiswchampion The last picture is sending me 😂😂😂

⤷ ynsunny boyfriend goals

mercedesamgf1 💜💜💜💜

⤷ tifositilltheend Even mercedes approves!

schumercedes Wanna bet “just us” is Yns new single and he’s casually dropping some hints about it?

yourusername it’s just us against the world ❤️

elitebarzal I am so happy I made part of the making of this couple

⤷ szayn bestie, I will tell that to my future kids 😭

yourusername

liked by summerwalker, lewishamilton and others

yoursername Just Us is out now in every stream platform 💋

view all 21,203 comments

mickmercedes I want what they have

⤷ russelllindo but you dont even know what they have 🧐

⤷ mickmercedes but I want it anyway

lewishamilton so proud of you ❤️

⤷ yourusername of us! ❤️

lewislegit YALL TELLING ME HE WROTE THE SONG TOO?????

mercedesamgf1 We have it on loop on our race day playlist 😌

tintedf1car do you guys need

eliteschumacher mom and dad

***********************************

If you liked it, make sure to like and reblog <3 feel free to talk to me as well, my inbox is always open!

I will start a taglist on my posts, to be part of it you just gotta comment/send an ask saying so, and most important: have your age in your profile (I don't interact with minors!). See you guys next story! <3

[yngtort]

— toothache ❄️

♫ All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth ♫

kinkmas day 1

Fem!reader. mdni. 2.9kw. in which doctor bangchan fills your cavities and the entirety of your mouth.

It hurt like hell.

Exposed to the cold early morning air of the winter, your teeth ache in your mouth. The pain was so aggravating that it had you zooming through the icy roads, trying to get to the dentist as soon as possible.

You had a cavity.

It was obvious, but it still caught you off guard. You genuinely always took good care of your teeth. You brushed, flossed, washed, and even went the extra mile to buy that expensive LED teeth whitening thing from TikTok.

Your hygiene was top tier.

but you’re still pulling into the parking lot of diamond dental with your hand glued to the side of your face.

“Seungmin, I’m freaking the fuck out.” You mumbled into the phone as you hop out of your Nissan, locking it multiple times because you're that kind of person.

The type to worry over little things like a stolen car and dying in a dentist chair.

“It’s not that bad, y/n. You won’t even feel anything.” Your coworker, most importantly your best friend, tells you from the other end.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been to the dentist before.”

He’s right, you have been there— but just to get your teeth brushed a couple times and handed a sticker right after. Not, to be stabbed in the mouth with a needle.

“It’s just been a while and you know how I feel about people’s hands in my mouth.”

“I don’t like the way you worded that.” He faked gagged, “anyways, call me when you’re done, Kay?”

“Kay.” you replied, slightly disappointed as he hung up the phone. Leaving you to walk the path of shame into the dentist office alone.

-

After filling out an extensive amount of paperwork, anxiously shaking your leg for an hour, and losing a mean game of virtual uno— your name was finally called.

You were led to the back by a small lady whose steps were short but impactful. She was so fast, you couldn’t tell if you were a patient or a Maury cameraman.

“Go on in,” she gestured towards the basic oral operation room. You take a seat, awkwardly deciding to put your hands on your stomach.

fuck you’re scared shitless, and the woman seems to notice your discomfort as she tries to distract you with a small conversation. But your eyes are still trained on whatever the fuck she’s putting together.

You inadvertently move away as she holds a silicone piece to your lips, “open as wide as you can,” she instructed.

Gosh, this was embarrassing. You were almost considering letting your teeth rot. But no, that’s gross.

Once the what-ever-it’s-called is placed in your mouth, she brings over another contraption. You assume it’s just a glorified camera, which was correct.

after a few pictures of your teeth, which kinda hurt btw, the woman inspected the photo. “Looks like you have a cavity on one of your molars. Other than that, you take pretty good care of your teeth.”

Pretty good? You felt like your efforts deserved higher praise but whatever. She goes on to tell you what needs to be done and how long it will take.

You grimace at the details.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.” She told before promptly leaving.

And now you’re left in complete silence. Well, not exactly silence. There was some music playing in the back, falling in melody with the constant sound of mechanical wiring from people in the rooms over— probably getting the same procedure. It sounded like someone was dying in there, seriously.

Anxiety filled you to the brim as you considered darting out that room right that second.

But just as you’re about to swing yourself out of your seat, there’s a voice that enters the room.

“Hello, ms.y/n . I’m dr.bang, I’ll be taking care of you for the day.” The doctor says as he steps in-front of you and suddenly you don’t want to move from that seat anytime soon.

He’s an undeniable hottie, even in those generic dentist scrubs that everyone in the faculty sported. For some reason, he just sparkled in them. Maybe it was because of the bulging muscles and his tan skin— whatever it was, your mouth was watering.

“Hello,” you said rather dryly, still locked on the vain that ran down his toned arm.

The doctor gives you a smile, a bright one too, and pulls a seat next to yours. “I hear you have a cavity. Mind if i have a look?” He asks as if you really have a choice. like he’s not already lowering the back of your chair so he can get a good look at your pearly whites.

He goes in with a tiny mirror, holding your chin with his free hand as he inspects the cavity. “You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, hmm?” he asked, thumb gliding over your bottom lip.“suckers, perhaps?”

Damn, he called you out.

Now this may sound a little weird, but you’ve always had quite the addiction to lollipops — suckers, the tootsie pop ones specifically. it’s even gotten to the point where you have a jar of them waiting at home on your nightstand.

And it’s not even the flavor of candy itself, you just…like putting things in your mouth?

Moving on !

Dr.bang finally moves back, releasing your jaw that was just starting to hurt. “It's only a small cavity. just need to fill it in for ya and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Honestly, with a face like his, he could play in your hair for as long as he wanted to. Give it a few tugs while he’s at it.

“Okay, but um..” you gulp a bit, toying with the end of your jacket. “Are you gonna give me a shot? My mouth is a bit sensitive, and I was wondering if there were any other alternatives.”

The doctor chuckled softly hearing your concerns. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard something like this.

“Unfortunately, the numbing gel that we use wouldn’t be as effective for this procedure.” He said before placing his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner. “But I promise it’ll only hurt for a second. I’m sure you can take it, yeah?”

take what? him ? Or the damn needle?

You have no clue, but if he’s gonna talk to you like that, you feel like you could break through a wall if you put your mind to it.

The dirty thoughts don’t get any better throughout the rest of your time in that damn chair either. Dr.bang had quite the mouth on him.

“Open up for me” “atta girl.” “That’s it, just a bit more”, he would say this while fingers were damn there down your throat.

A bit of an overstatement, he’s drilling your teeth, but you wish was drilling his dick—

“All done.”

The back of your chair is lifted up and you try not to let your body slump over. You’ve been lying in that spot for about an hour and a half, teeth being tickled, and eyes being blinded by the dingy light above your head.

And yet, you don’t want to go home.

“Does everything feel okay, ms.y/n? Nothing bothering you?” he asks, removing his glasses and placing them in his —soft— hair.

You shake your head, “nope, just can’t feel my tongue.” You say, poking the side of your face, testing how much force it will take for you to actually start feeling it.

The doctor laughs at your comment, dimples on full display. “The numbness should wear off in a hour or so. Just try not to eat, don’t want you biting your tongue off.”

“Has that actually happened?” You asked, wide eyed and Mr.bang only laughed again.

“On occasion.” He told, “But you’re a smart girl, so I know you won’t disobey doctors orders.”

Does he get paid to talk like that? Or is he just written by a woman with daddy issues?

Both probably.

“Speaking of doctor orders, try to lay off the sugar, yeah? I’m sure you don’t want to see too much of me after today.”

—

“That was obviously an opening for you to flirt with him.” Seungmin scoffs as he closes the register.

You’re at your job, a small candy parlor called sweethearts, talking to your dear coworker about what transpired earlier that day. You didn’t spare him from the dirty laundry that harvested in your mind while you were getting the fill in. Seungmin doesn’t care tho, he’s not judgmental.

That, and you’re his only source of entertainment as the slow part of your shift comes around.

“Flirt? With the dentist? Isn’t there like a rule against that?” You asked, shifting the cherry flavored sucker in your mouth over to the other side of your cheek.

“For him, yeah” Seungmin shrugged, “but I doubt that anyone actually cares nowadays.”

“He’s probably in a relationship.” You popped the candy out your mouth, lips stained in a pretty red. “He’s too fine not to be.”

“And? ” he crossed his arms.

You blink at him a couple times, “I’m not fucking a taken man.”

“Loser.”

“You’re so-“ you sigh. “Whatever, just go restock something.” You push him from behind the counter.

The next few hours seemed to fade into each other as you stood absentmindedly behind the register. Seungmin had already clocked out since he got lucky and was offered a short shift for today. now you’re slouching at the register— phone in hand, while sucking on another tootsie pop.

“Just can’t stay away from those things, huh?” The voice grabs your attention with a force of seven suns.

you know that thick accent too well.

It had replayed in your head for the entirety of the day after your first encounter.

“D-Dr. bang?” you stutter, eyes round as you take in the man in front of you as he sets down a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Chris.” he corrects, “I don’t like being called doctor outside the clinic. Makes me sound old.”

It makes him sound hot, in your opinion.

You nod a few times before clearing your throat, reminding yourself that you are on the clock.

”Christmas shopping?” you asked, still mentally going feral as gaze over his stature.

He’s dressed like a chase Atlantic song, how could you not ?

“Yes actually. I was looking for some small sweets to fill up a gift basket.”

“Oh” you perk, scanning the chocolates and placing them in a bag. “for your girlfriend?”

“No, don’t have one.” He says with a shrug, “it’s for my mom.”

A mamas boy ! Woo !

a spark of relief shoots through your body as you hear his words. You won’t have to be a homewrecker after all. Not saying that you were planning to but,, it’s just good to know.

“$6.58.” You tell and Chris follows through with the transaction. his hands brushes against yours as you pass the bag to him and you can’t help but blush like a schoolgirl.

“What about you?”

You blink, “what about me?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Is he showing interest too? Is that what this was?

“No, but I dont think these are the kind of questions doctors are supposed to ask.” you say teasingly.

“I’m just trying to get to know my patient better.”

“Uh huh, sure.” you raise an eyebrow, “got anything else you wanna ask?”

Chris crossed his arms, eyes flickering down to the stick that laid between your plump lips. The Candy was completely gone, leaving behind a blue hue on your mouth.

“Your obsession with suckers might’ve peaked my interest.” He told, “do they taste that good that you have to go against my orders?”

That's a really good question. it’s not the first time you’ve heard it, but it stumps you every time. You’re actually a savory kind of girl, like if you had to choose between pie or chips— you’re grabbing the saltiest bag you can find.

But it’s like all your life, you were always sucking on something. Your thumb, jawbreakers, ring pops— anything really.

“I don’t exactly know.” You start, thinking about how to word this. “It’s not exactly the taste…I just kind of like putting things in my mouth?”

Every part of you was expecting to be laughed at, but when not a chuckle left the man’s lips you were just confused.

“So you have an oral fixation?” He asks

“There’s a name for it?” “There’s a name for everything, love.”

“And how do you know all of this?” You push and Chris clicks his tongue.

“I’m a dentist, remember?” Chris takes a step closer, leaning against the counter. “I also know how to satisfy that urge you’ve been feeling.”

Oh.

—

you don’t remember how you ended up like this. pressed against the break room door, tongue tangled with a man you just met.

It’s a crazy situation, but honestly it’s not the wildest thing you’ve done.

your melting into his hold, kiss making you dizzy as if his saliva was laced with some kind of drug. it was absolutely intoxicating, the way his tongue explored every part of your mouth with no restraint.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet.” He mumbled against your lips.

Chris’s hands roam under your shirt. his cold palms against your warm skin sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps follow behind him with every contact as he massages and squeezes your curves.

He pulls back from the kiss and you couldn’t help but whine at the sudden detachment. You try to get him back, but his hand grabs your jaw.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I got something to fill that dirty mouth of yours.” He coaxes, thumb brushing your swollen lips. “On your knees.”

You take to the floor with no questions asked, eyes coming in direct contact with his bulge and you can’t help but wonder that would even fit in your mouth.

But you won’t back down from the challenge. Your hands almost beggingly climb up his thighs as you look up at him, silently asking for permission.

“If there’s something you want, say it.” Chris tells, head tilted to the side in such an attractive way.

You lean your face up against his leg, “can I put it in my mouth?”

The older grins, “Of course, baby.” He says before unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor.

You gulp at how thick his thighs are. Just imagine riding them, wetness dripping all over his skin.

And that’s not even the main event.

his boxers were wrapped so tightly around his dick, each inch was on display and it had your mouth watering. you wasted no time pulling them down, watching it pop up as it’s freed.

“ So big.” You whispered in awe before taking the base into your hands and guiding it to your lips.

“open up for me, love” Chris instructed and you do as told, parting your lips and taking him into your mouth.

the man above lets out a low groan as he's stuffed down your throat. He’s a little surprised at how easily you're handling his girth, lips wrapped around him so snuggly without a single gag.

“Just like that, good girl,” he praises as you suck him like a lollipop. “taking it so well.”

Your head bobbed at a generous rate, hands gripped onto his thighs while you slobbered over his dick. It was such a lewd scene to witness. only worsening when Chris grabs you by your hair, stopping your movements before he takes full control.

his hips reel away before slamming back into your face, fucking your mouth roughly. you whimpered as the head of his dick jabbed the back of your throat repeatedly.

Tears started to well up in your eyes from the harshness of his thrusts. Your throat was rubbed raw and there was an extreme ache in your jaw, but you can’t help being more aroused by the pain. The feeling of being tortured orally had your panties soaked.

So it’s only natural that one of your hands was tucked between your thighs, kneading your clothed clit between your fingers.

“Pretty lil mouth must feel so good finally being used, yea? been practicing on those stupid suckers just for this?” Chris asks cockily, knowing he’d never receive an answer.

He fucks you until his dick is twichting uncontrollably on your tounge, ready to release his thick seed down your throat. But before he even gives you the satisfaction, he yanks back, dick leaving your mouth with a pop.

He decided he’d rather see his cum painting your face than having it disappear without a trace. So he pumps himself in sync with your fingers that were still buried in your pants.

It’s only a matter of seconds before his white ropes drench your face— tongue, lips, lashes— all covered in his mess.

“Fuck” he curses and says something else, but you can comprehend. You're too deep in a daze.

“Y/n.” He calls and calls and calls and calls—

until suddenly his voice loses that thick Aussie accent and instead starts sounding more like your coworker.

“Yo, y/n? I'm gonna clock out soon.” Seungmin says waving his hands in front of your face, “your break was over 30 minutes ago.”

“W-what the fuck???” You blink, still confused and the male just sighs.

“You and your daydreams, man.”

:)

Kinkmas has finally started ! hope you guys enjoyed day 1. I had to quickly cut it short because I type too much and I definitely wouldn’t make the deadline if I continued. That being said, if you would like me to continue toothache as a series just let me know !

— sincerely nni

Tinytag list (open) : @sydnerss @sunnyyangie @foxinnie8 @panjakes

[tojisun]

Why not in his own bad and home? 🥺😭

(re:)

staring at the wall rn bc i have no self control n proceeded to write a drabble instead im so sorry whdjej 😭

!! smut - minors dni; toxic dbf simon (hes an ass)

simon only ever brings home his dates – people he’d fuck and people he’d stay with even when the next day rolls. they’re the people who get his soft parts, the corners of his jagged heart and the warmth of his scarred palms. they’re the ones who you always end up hating, no matter how kind they are.

you’ve heard about his escapades a million times, anyway. if not from the pretty dolls he flaunts around with, then from himself. rude, isn’t it?

he’d pull you to his lap, kiss your neck, and then whisper how he wish he could fuck you on his mattress right now. he’d tell you how he’d cage you between his arms, make a mess with you on his sheets; how he’d eat you out on his counter or prop you against the wall and take you there. he’d whisper all these things, and then he’d pick you up from his lap and slide you off, feigning innocence as he gets to his feet and flirt with someone else that isn’t you before bringing them home with him.

you never know who it could be – a stranger from a bar or a repeating hookup whom he noticed had walked in; a girl whose tits look perfect in her crop top or a guy whose ass is hugged by his tight leather pants.

you never know what simon’s type is – you don’t know how to fix yourself to enchant him – but you do know one thing: he’d never bring you to his home. you’re a secret, one who is best enjoyed in a hotel outside of the city or in his car parked in an abandoned building.

it’s cruel, but simon chases your tears away with wrapped boxes – gifts that you told him you wanted in passing.

it was just a whisper underneath your breath, a gasped out confession because you didn’t think you could ever get them anyway. and yet there simon is, gifting them to you, showing you his charming crooked smile before brushing your hair away from your face and whispering that you go on and open them.

you do so with trembling hands and teary eyes because, you think to yourself, how could you ever hate simon? sure he doesn’t bring you home but doesn’t he love you in his own way? is this not enough?

(it isn’t.)

so you’d set aside the box and clamber to his lap, sniffling when he’d chuckle at how forward you are being right now, before leading him into a languid kiss.

you’d pack your confessions on that kiss, pressing it on his lips, afraid that sounding them out will only ruin the moment. afraid that if you asked for more, then simon would be back to distancing himself from you.

simon would take you there in his car, guiding your trembling body up-and-down on his cock, helping you as you rut yourself on his length, too overwhelmed to take control. simon would whisper praises on your shoulder and nip your skin. marking. claiming.

then the cycle would continue.

he would drive you home, ignore your messages and calls for a few days, until you two meet and you see a new person cradled in his arms. you would avoid him, give him a silent treatment, then simon would get down on his knees and give you tokens of his apologies before driving you two away.

you tell yourself this is love.

i promise a fluffy one is on the way 😭

[koshkamartell]

Bad Neighbours

___________________________________________________

summary: set in AU. Joel Miller is a grumpy old man who enjoys peace and quiet. Ever since you moved into the neighbourhood he can't seem to escape you.

warnings: set in AU with no outbreak, large age gap, Joel is in his 50s, reader's age is unspecified but is much younger than Joel, noncon PIV, degradation, use of words like whore and slut, assault.

___________________________________________________

Joel didn't like you.

He didn't like the way you let your front garden overgrow, or how your friends came and went all hours of the night, the sound of their car engines stirring him awake from precious sleep after a hard day's work. He didn't know what you did for work, if you even had a job.

Joel didn't like how chatty you were with the other neighbours. You hadn't really interacted with him besides the occasional wave when you happened to be outside your house at the same time he was. But he often saw you talking with some of the other residents on the street, smiling and tossing your hair off your shoulders. Like you were flirting. You were too friendly.

Did you flirt with everyone or something?

It's not like Joel avoided you. You always seemed busy with something anyway. Going out in your car and returning sometime later with music pulsing through your stereo, paper shopping bags clutched in one hand, some frappe drink in your other. Those oversized sunglasses sitting on your face and your pouty lips glossed.

He didn't keep tabs on you or anything. But there were times he would catch a glimpse of you across the street through his living room window, and he would peek out the blinds to see just what the hell you were up to.

Last weekend you had washed your car in your driveway, the hose in your hands blasting a river of soapy water down the concrete and into the street gutter. Like you didn't give a shit about wasting water or anything. He watched as you leaned over the hood to scrub with a large yellow sponge. Did you even know what the fuck you were doing? Probably scratching the paintwork or something. Your shirt had gotten soaking wet and was sticking to your skin. You stopped to wipe your cheek with the back of your hand and had unknowingly swiped some foam on your face. Joel didn't think it was endearing or sort of cute.

You pissed him off.

Especially with the clothes you wore. Sundresses that emphasised your waist and breasts, skirts that showed your pretty legs, oversized shirts with short shorts. Some mornings you even fetched the mail dressed in nothing but a tank top and pyjama shorts.

Whose attention were you trying to catch?

When Tommy and his buddies came over for poker night they sometimes saw you coming or going. Their polite smiles vanished once they walked inside Joel's house. Then came the inevitable ribbing and dirty talk from them, jokes about what they would do to you, how they would find all sorts of excuses to knock on your door under the guise of being a friendly neighbour. Joel would just grumble and tell them to knock it off.

"Hot little thing," Tommy grinned one time. "Tread on her back tyres look a little worn. Maybe I should go over and let her know, give her a hand changing 'em?"

"Yeah, bet she'd be so grateful that she'd suck your dick," one of the others laughed.

"Jus' leave it," Joel snapped.

"Why's that? She got a man?" Tommy asked.

"How the fuck would I know?" Joel scowled, annoyed.

He didn't know if you had a boyfriend or not. He'd seen a guy park his car outside your place a few times before, but that was months ago. If you did, it would probably be someone your own age. Someone less cranky and alot younger than Joel. Joel wondered if you sucked the guy's cock. You probably loved to suck cock.

Joel hadn't gotten a blowjob in a long time. He hadn't been laid in over a year. He didn't have the time or patience to really date a woman and he didn't have the energy to go out to a bar and find a quick fuck. Work consumed most of his time and it was stressful. He was always frustrated and grumpy. And his daily routine was always the same - work all day, come home exhausted and aching, throw back some whiskey and then try to sleep.

Except tonight he couldn't sleep. Because your friends had been over all evening and all he could hear were loud voices and pumping music coming from your house. Joel tossed and turned in his bed. He checked the digital clock by his bed and saw it read 11pm. He pressed a pillow over his head and groaned.

It was 11.45pm when the party ended and the noise had died down. Car doors slammed and engines cranked to life. Five minutes later the street was calm and quiet again.

But Joel was still awake. He couldn't get to sleep. He was angry. By midnight he was stalking over the street toward your house, his jaw clenching and his fists balled. This was your fucking fault. You were so damn inconsiderate.

Someone needed to tell you just how fucking annoying you were.

Joel pounded on your door. He stood on your doorstep waiting for you to answer, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He waited ten seconds before he raised his fist to knock once again, then the door opened wide. A stream of light poured out from inside.

Joel's resolve waned for a brief moment when he saw you standing in front of him wearing a baby pink camisole and matching sleep shorts. Your hair was down and a little dishevelled. His dark eyes flickered down your body and then back up to your face. He tried hard to ignore the swell of your breasts peaking over the lace trim. He cleared his throat.

You looked surprised to see him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, hi. Is everything okay?" You asked, voice gentle and concerned. You took a step towards him so that only a small space separated you. He could smell your strawberry body lotion.

Joel put his hands on his hips and glared down at you.

"Some of us have been workin' all day and need to sleep," he grizzled. "But you and your little friends make it really fuckin' hard to do that when you're up all hours of the night partying."

Your eyes widened and you blinked rapidly, taken aback.

"Oh. I'm sorry," you replied with sincerity.

"I'm up early every day, breakin' my back runnin' my business." He huffed. "And I can't even get some damn sleep with y'all bein' loud and not givin' a damn about anyone else."

You bit your lower lip sheepishly and shuffled a little on the spot.

"I really am sorry, Mr. Miller."

Fuck. Your words made his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He nostrils flared as he stared down at you. You were being so polite. So innocent. Joel figured it was all an act, your sorrys and wide pretty eyes; a way for you to wriggle out of responsibility. You probably you used your looks to get your way all the time. The thought just made him madder.

"But it's a Friday night," you said hesitantly. "And the party finished before midnight."

Joel's brows creased into a disbelieving frown.

"Now you're back chattin' me?" He growled.

"No, not at all, Mr Miller, I just--"

"What makes you think you can just disrespect everybody and do whatever the fuck you want?" Joel snarled.

You were shocked by his outburst. Panic and fear flooded your features.

"No, no, not at all, it's just that it's the weekend and--" you rambled but Joel wasn't listening. Seeing you look so frightened and delicate and pretty in your pink pyjamas flipped a switch inside him, activating the primal side of his brain. In a split second his subconscious decided what he needed to do next.

Before you could finish explaining Joel wrapped a hand firmly around your upper arm and roughly shoved you back into your house. You yelped and stumbled backwards. Joel followed and slammed the door shut behind him, making sure to lock it.

"W-what are you doing?" You stammered.

"You got no respect," Joel muttered. "No goddamn manners. You're inconsiderate as hell. Think you're better than everybody else, is that it? "

"What? No, not at all," you said in a shaky, teary voice. "I said I was sorry, Mister Miller, please--"

Suddenly Joel slapped your face. The force knocked you against the living room wall and you cried out.

"Shut the fuck up," he spat.

The anger and adrenaline was surging through his chest and licked at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were now blown out and black with malice.

You held your palm against your cheek and stared at him in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face. It made his cock hard in his sweatpants to see you cry.

"Now you're gonna listen to me, you little bitch," Joel spoke calmly. He towered over you like a predatory animal, his hands flexing by his sides. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson on how to behave. Bet your daddy never taught you shit, the way you walk around dressed like a slut."

You let out a helpless sob. It was now clear what Joel wanted to do. You slowly backed away from him while shaking your head.

"Please don't," you hiccuped. "Don't hurt me."

With alarming swiftness Joel lunged to you and wrapped his large hand around your throat. He squeezed just enough to silence you without cutting off your oxygen supply. He hauled you further into the living room, your feet dragging over the carpet.

His other hand grabbed onto your shorts and tore them down your legs, exposing your bare ass and pussy. You kicked your legs and thrashed around but it was hopeless. Joel was so much stronger. He held you effortlessly infront of him.

"Quit squirmin'."

You somehow managed to reach up to slap his cheek as hard as you could. His eyes narrowed at you and his chest expanded as he inhaled a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. You stopped moving as soon as you realised your mistake.

Joel released you and quickly threw you down to the floor on your knees. Before you could scramble away he dropped down behind you and used his weight to push you onto your belly. Your arms were outstretched infront of you in a futile bid to crawl away. His cock pressed inbetween the cheeks of your ass.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He barked at you. "Think you're a big bad girl, hittin' me like that?"

You couldn't move at all underneath him, like a rabbit caught in a snare. Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back painfully.

"Wanna be big and bad, huh? Alright, let's see how tough you are with my cock splittin' you in half."

"No!" You cried hoarsely.

Joel held your head still with his tight hold on your hair. He sat up on his knees behind you and knocked your thighs open and wedged himself inbetween your legs.

Joel looked down at your naked lower half and groaned at the sight of your ass. You were perfect, even better than he imagined. He wished he could take his time with you and not rush, to savour every second of breaking you down. But now you were half naked below him and he couldn't possibly wait any longer. His calloused fingers reached down and ran over the lips of your puffy pussy and down to your slick entrance.

"I'm gonna ruin this whore pussy," Joel's voice was rough and menacing. "Show you what happens to disrespectful sluts who talk back."

All you could do was cry as he hurriedly pushed his sweatpants down his thighs to free his fat aching cock. He spat in his hand and gave it a couple jerks to lubricate himself.

"Please," you whispered through tears. "Please don't do this."

Joel ignored you and notched the head of his dick at your hole. Your body stiffened and you were about to scream when Joel plunged himself inside your pussy; the intrusion of his girth stretched you full and so painfully that all the breath in your lungs left your body.

Joel pressed his pelvis into your ass and let out a loud guttural moan. Holy fuck, you felt so fucking good. The sensation of your wet heat around his cock was heavenly. He felt your pussy clench around him.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmured breathlessly.

Joel lowered himself on-top of your body, caging you with his broad chest. He moved his hips to pull his cock out almost all the way before slamming back into you. You let out a choked shriek.

He clamped his hand over your mouth and repeated the action again and again, his cock spearing into your pussy and his heavy balls clapping against your ass. You screamed into his palm as Joel's hips hammered into yours with hard, deep thrusts.

"What's wrong baby?" Joel mocked. "Does it hurt? Am I tearin' that little pussy up?"

Joel could feel your hot tears spilling down your face. It gave him a smug satisfaction to know it was because of him. He continued fucking you with a savage desperation that he had never felt before in his whole life. He wanted to utterly wreck you, make you bleed.

His thick cock was pounding into your pussy so brutally that he could be making you bleed already.

Your sobs and screams were muffled by his large hand, his fingers digging painfully into your cheek.

"Don't you dare disrespect me ever again, you fuckin' whore," Joel growled.

You couldn't respond. You were close to passing out from the intensity of his body violating yours. Joel wrenched your hair back and spat a glob of saliva onto your face so that it ran down your eyebrow and over the bridge of your nose.

"You hear me, little girl?" He moved his hand from your mouth and gave your face three sharp smacks.

You whined pitifully.

"Fuckin' answer me," Joel snapped, still fucking you raw.

"Yes," you mumbled in a small, broken voice.

"Yes what?" He slapped your face again. "Yes WHAT?"

"Y-y-yes sir."

"That's right, baby, thats all you needed," he murmured, his voice slurred with lust. "Just needed an older man to fuck some sense into you, teach you some respect."

Joel's hand rubbed over your face, mixing his saliva and your tears and snot all over you. The act of humiliation excited him and he felt his orgasm approaching. There was no way he could control himself now. His cock throbbed and his thrusts became sloppy.

"Gonna fill this slutty pussy," Joel groaned, "fuck my cum into it til you're burstin' full'a me."

"No!" You squealed weakly.

Joel slapped his hand back over your mouth, this time covering your nose as well. Your muscles contracted around his shaft as you struggled to breath. Joel pumped into your pussy for a few moments longer before his climax hit. He stilled with his cock buried to the hilt, his balls tightened against your pussy. He moaned and panted as he shot thick ropes of hot cum deep inside your torn, abused hole, his cock pulsing inside your walls.

"Goddamn," Joel mumbled between ragged breaths. "God-fuckin'-damn."

He released his hand from your face and you gasped as the air filled your lungs. He allowed you a few seconds to catch your breath before he whispered in your ear.

"You ain't gonna tell no one a word about this," his voice was ominous as his hand let go of your hair to stroke your head gently. "Or else I'll come back and fuck your mouth so hard I'll break your fuckin' jaw, you understand me?"

"Yes sir," you whispered back quickly, defeated and broken.

Joel withdrew from your pussy and sat back on his haunches. He slapped your ass and squeezed it hard, parting one of your cheeks to look at your asshole and your swollen pussy.

"Perfect fuckin' hole," Joel murmured.

You stayed laying on the carpet on your stomach with his cum slowly seeping out of you. Joel stood up onto his feet, his knees cracking as he straightened. He stepped back and watched you motionless as he yanked his pants back up and tucked himself away.

You looked even more pretty like this, he thought with pride.

"Good girl," he muttered lowly.

Joel left and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving you ruined and alone. That night he slept better than he had in a very long time. And when we woke up in the morning he could still smell your strawberry body lotion under his fingernails.

[kisscara]

O6. 1+ student council member! [fanboy!scaramouche x drummer!reader] ⎯⎯ heartbeat rhythm series

a/n: once again ignore the dates 3__3

"God, your hands are so soft even though you've been drumming for awhile," scaramouche mutters, his charming blue eyes now half-lidded as he runs his fingertips across every line of your palm. a tinted pink coats your face from the compliment. 'he must be drunk.' you sheepishly smile, "thank you, pres-"

"just call me scaramouche outside of school grounds. it's weird if you say that in public." scaramouche rests his head in his hand and takes another sip from his shot glass. "you're quite interesting, (name). are drums hard to play?" he asks, swirling the liquid in his cup.

kaeya is at the front counter looking for a waiter to get the check from while the girls are escorting a very wasted kazuha to kaeya's car in the parking lot. that left you with scaramouche at the table. "it can be a little bit of difficult and a little bit of easy at times. but with a lot of practice, i get the hang of it," you meekly reply.

suddenly, scaramouche leans in towards you, nearly closing the distance between the two of you completely. from this angle, you can see how flushed he appears. just how drunk is he? scaramouche tilts his head and you're sure that anyone looking at this scene from a certain perspective would think that the two of you were kissing.

"do you like me?"

at his question, your pupils dilate in surprise. "yeah, i mean, no, well yeah, i like you but not in that way, you know!..." you hurriedly stammer out words in a panic. scaramouche returns to a normal distance and chuckles, "don't worry, i was just joking. but seriously, i'd be lucky if someone like you liked me."

it's like the whole world stopped. you look at him with a brow slightly furrowed. what yanfei said couldn't possibly be true, could it? scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on his glass, waiting for a reply, anything at all but no, you couldn't get ahead of yourself yet.

"that's sweet, scaramouche! a lot of people at school already admire you, i'm sure one of them are your ideal type!" you cheerily exclaim, trying not to make the air around you two awkward. scaramouche sighs, "(name)-" amber calls out, "(name)! your ride is here, ayato's going to be picking you and ayaka up."

she stands in front of the table with her arms crossed. "hey, you didn't do any funny business with them while we were gone, did you!?" amber grumbles, pointing at scaramouche. you laugh while collecting your things, "he didn't do anything at all, amber. thanks for tonight, scaramouche."

you greet him goodbye with a wave and head outside the restaurant. scaramouche purses his lips in frustration. he should have been upfront with you about his feelings but he supposes he's moving too fast. you'd never know his glass was filled with water anyways.

tags: @mariusvonhangme @scaramoo @mikismusings @rizakari @akagism2 @sakiimeo @ohmyfinggod @aethersluvrr @scarafrisbee @kaoyamamegami @liliumaraneae @dreamsofminnie @starfart19 @kunisbeloved @luhvashh @makiswrld @kyouzki @mimissubway @loucaroarz @theblueblub @angelunatic @shinjuuz @thenightsflower @coquettemaiden @thefandomcrow @cotton-eee @lovely028 @hrtswinter @duckyyyx @kissingkzuha @dazaisboner @adeptusx @tomotofu @yukiipc @loverhole @star583 @soobasaur @aeongiies @dr8amy @scaraapologist @raideneiari @rvoulte @aaeng121 @pyrrhicgaze @tjjjrsj @enviouspeanut @d4y-dr3am3r @aromaticism @undecidingfate @idontwantoeatspicy

taglist is now closed as i've reached the max tags in a single post. (50/50 tags occupied + officially removed users whose names aren't linked)

what happens when you, a talented and well-known drummer across the web, grow an intense crush for the student council president, who's also your number one fan? from annoying sisters to nosy bandmates, the next event that happens is always more chaotic than the last!

© kisscara

[hyukalyptus]

ot5's reaction to bsf chubby!reader wearing tight clothes like a bodycon ? ;-;

:c ugh bsf chubby!reader is literally my favorite thing in the entire fkn world lol. let’s put some thoughts together, hm?

cw. clubbing, dancing, a stranger is kinda mean in tae’s (nothing specific is mentioned), lmk if there’s anything else!

yeonjun—let’s say his feelings aren’t fully ~realized~ yet lol. i mean he’s always flirted w you like he does all of his friends. but seeing you walk in the bar for a cute lil night out w ur friend group, it’s like everything stops for a second. he stops talking in the middle of his sentence, just stares at you. whoever he’s talking to is like “yeonjun??? hello?” and he clears his throat and is like “sorry what?” and his dude bro friend won’t stop teasing him for it the rest of the night. and when yalls favorite song comes on “ah yeonjun! let’s dance~” and its so hard for him to keep his hands off you :( and that's when his big fat crush started lol

soobin—already has a crush on you. and he's SO sweet about it </3 waiting for you in his car when you step outside your front door, just watching you. he's already trained himself to be calm around you, but seeing every curve of ur body makes it a bit more challenging than usual. plopping down in his passenger seat and "...well?" "what?" "how do i look ? this is a new dress..i'm kinda nervous about it.." eyebrows furrowed. lips pouty as he’s been granted the privilege to look at ur body. “y-you, uh, you look…good.” “damn i must look really good if you’re stumbling over your words like that.”

beomgyu—would be such a tease like “woah you look nice for a change.” “whose attention you trying to get tonight?” “someone’s trying to get some.” while also hiding how much he was drooling over you. he’d never seen you like this before. you just didn’t go clubbing with him often, so he’d never been given the chance. but oh do you look sexy in your dress tonight. watching from afar as you dance with a stranger. watching them touch and squeeze you. wishing it was him.

taehyun—of course noticed ur ass and thighs in those biker shorts. and so did everyone else at the park. he could see everyone looking you up and down, turning their heads to get a better look. his ears were red. but you liked the attention so it’s none of his business anyway. until he overheard some jerk make a gross comment to one of his buddies. “what was that?” he instantly turns into a protective bestie ready to punch someone and the guy quickly retreats at the sight of his big biceps. the cute “thanks, tae~” with a hair twirl you give him makes him blush, adding a sweet kiss to your forehead for good measure.

hueningkai—is it cheating to say i feel like he’d cave immediately? i feel like he’d already have a crush on you, but when you come back from changing into lounge clothes and you’re wearing leggings, he can’t take it anymore. “look, i’ve been…meaning to talk to you about something…” he’s so nervous and you can tell. “what is it? you know you can tell me anything.” looking down while he tries to put his thoughts into words. “i’ve been…having these feelings…” and he takes a big pause. “i just- i think you’re beautiful and i wanted you to know that.”

[hwaseonghwasworld]

Best friends brother chapter 10 LAST PART: I Always Come Prepared

Summary: Yunho doesn’t want his baby sister (Y/n) dating any of his friends especially Mingi since they are like brothers to him and it’s an issue when all Y/n’s friends are dating Yunho’s friends but he wouldn’t let Y/n talk to any guys since he’s so overprotective, it’s such a shame that she’s been with Mingi for almost 2 years and no one knows. What will happen if Yunho finds out?

Song Mingi x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut, fights

Word count: 1k

Genre: series, angst, comedy, fluff, hidden relationship, High school au

Updates: probably Friday at 10pm BST

“Mingi we should go to Kang Daniel’s fan sign” Mingi sigh eyed me saying “why do you like him so much?” I hit his arm a little “what do you mean his voice is so angelic and his dancing” I was blushing just saying those and he rolled his eyes.

“Can we go pleaseeeeee” “fine” “why do you want me to come anyway” I looked at him and told him “for comfort” “and you know I don’t like going places alone” he nodded then I jump onto him kissing his cheeks.

A couple year later me and Mingi live together in an apartment in Seoul but Mingi is a Kpop idol with his friends while I go to Yonsei University, and I study interior design. Mingi proposed to you recently since you two have been together for 7 years.

You were about to go to uni and since Mingi has to be up early as well so you both ended up waking up at the same time, as soon as you both get ready you kiss Mingi goodbye after dropping him off to the company’s and driving to my university, I made new friends in uni since my friends are also kpop idols so they don’t go here.

“Y/n that dress that you made in class is so beautiful” I smile and thanked her, we went into class and I got a text from Mingi, I smile and texted him back.

“You’re having a wedding?” “Yeah me and Min- my boyfriend have been together for 7 years” “and you didn’t invite us?” I never told them that I was dating a kpop idol since I felt like there was no need, my graduation is soon anyway and my wedding is a month after, but since I’ve known my friends for 4 years I guess it’s best to just let them come “of course you guys are invited, we haven’t really sorted out the guest arrangements yet anyway” “ok so like when is it” I told them where and when it is, and said how they wouldn’t bring anyone I don’t know but they can bring a date, since I didn’t want people to know that I’m married to an idol yet since the groups dating ban hasn’t ended yet even though almost all the members are in a relationship.

“So why doesn’t he go here” I looked at them trying to find something to say “he works” “ohh ok” “oh yeah Y/n did you see ATEEZ’s new comeback.” “No I don’t really listen to them” she showed ma a picture of the 8 boys and I kept my eyes on Mingi “so whose your bias?” “Wait she looks like a Yunho bias” “yeah they look the same too” I looked at them shocked and disgusted, I did not want them to say that even if they don’t know about me and Yunho being siblings, “my bias is Mingi actually”

“Really?, my bias is Hongjoong” I looked at them and nodded as they were fangirling over each member “I really wish I could marry Mingi, he’s literally husband material” I nodded agreeing with them since it’s true, Mingi is husband material.

After school I decided to go grocery shopping, while I was searching for stuff someone back hugged me and I turn around seeing the man with a mask and a hat covering his eyes, I knew it was Mingi and I hugged him putting my head on his chest smelling his scent. “What are you going here, what if someone sees you” he smiled giving me a hat and mask so it seems less suspicious “I always come prepared princess” I smile as he helped me hold the basket.

When we were about to pay and Mingi could see that the woman could recognize him, he put his head down so she couldn’t see his eyes. We walked out and went into the car, “I think the lady saw me” I looked at him shocked “wait really” “Yh but I don’t think she realized who I am I nodded hoping he doesn’t get a scandal.

Once we walked into our apartment and ATEEZ and (G)-idle were here I was shocked to see them since I thought they were busy, I hugged them, they had another member called soojin and she was so nice she hugged me and smiled at me wanting to know about the wedding, “so how when’s the wedding?” I looked and Mingi and smiled then back at soojin, “it’s in 3 months”

A couple months later it was the wedding ceremony, i was taking pictures and as my friends from my uni saw me with Mingi walking up to me and kissing me, getting ready to take pictures with him. “Wait … Mingi IS YOUR HUSBAND!” I looked at them in shock as my brother answered them still lowkey not wanting us to be together “yup” “I don’t even know why my sister chose my best friend, but it is what it is” the girls were just flabbergasted, they didn’t know how to react. “Ok so let me get this straight, you’re getting married to a kpop idol, your brother is a kpop idol, and your friend are kpop idols too” “yes” I answered as they stood there in utter shock “THATS SO COOL” I laughed a little as we took pictures to and they go to the main venue.

While I was walking down the isle so me and Mingi could finally get married my friends looked at me excited as they were quietly rooting me on, I turned to look at Mingi and he kept looking at me the whole time, as soon as we finally got to kiss people cheered us on as Mingi pulled me closer and wrapping his arms around my waist while I cupped his cheeks as we pulled into a soft passionate kiss.

💖

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Taglist: @scarfac3 @huachengsbestie01 @tunaasan

Side note: I apologize if this seemed rushed I’ve been pretty busy with my exams which is the reason why the time is so messy and also because of the writers block but i will try and have better timing with the next ff and try and make it longer

Thank you for reading this ff💖

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: The Dead Speak [Smiling Man x Reader]

Title: The Dead Speak [Smiling Man x Reader]

Synopsis: Your mom always told you not to play with Ouija boards. Maybe you should have listened.

For Horrorfest request: A party game seance of ouija board. Nothing seems to happen, maybe the vibes change a little, but not much else. Until they are walking home and encounter a very friendly lost young gentleman.

Word count: 2210

notes: references to dead people and ghosts, reader is drinking/tipsy

You were the only one who didn’t want to play with the Ouija board. Not because you had some deep-rooted belief in them, not really; you’d never encountered spirits or accidentally summoned a demon or anything like that after pulling out the Hasbro mass market produced party game.

But your mom had believed in them. She refused to let you bring one in the house, had adamantly reminded you before every childhood sleepover--”Absolutely no Ouija boards, my sweetness--and had even told one of your friends that they had to leave their mall-bought Ouija board hair bow in the car before they came inside for dinner.

No one else here seemed to have the same qualms, parent-induced or not, so you shrugged at being the odd one out and didn’t raise a fuss. Especially since the party was almost over, and all that remained were you, the host, and a few stragglers. 

It was Halloween night, after all--people just wanted to have fun. 

Which in this case meant the party host running around the house and shutting off all the lights while someone else dug out a bag of unused tea candles and began to light them. It wasn’t the brightest--no pun intended--idea. A fire hazard, for sure. Especially since most of the guests had already tackled the spiked apple cider and ghost-shaped jello shots, which were currently warming up your belly.

But you’d be damned if the candles didn’t make everything look dim and spooky. Your mind felt fuzzy from the darkness and the booze as you settled down with the group in the living room, scooting on your butt up to the coffee table where the board had been set up.

“Everyone knows how it works, right?” The host asked. Her deep red lipstick was smeared--from drinking or kissing--and she’d tossed aside her witch hat a while back. 

Of course you knew. Everyone knew. You put your fingers on the planchette and pretended that you weren’t moving it around while people asked questions. Inevitably someone would accuse another person of moving it and the fun would eventually dissipate. Or so you’d seen at slumber parties, while you dutifully sat on the bed and finished painting your nails or simply watched, hugging a pillow, wondering if it was betraying your mom to play with Ouija outside the house.

That was when  you were a kid, though. There was no deep-rooted feeling of betrayal now as you rested two fingers on the planchette. Only a vague sense of giddiness, spurned on by the alcohol, by the very existence of Halloween night. 

“Is there a spirit in the room with us?” The host asked softly. 

Was it your imagination, or did the candles flicker? They seemed dimmer, somehow. Probably because they were cheap tea lights. 

And then the planchette moved--probably the host, you thought--towards the most obvious (and fun) option: 

YES.

Someone giggled. You snorted, and wondered how many jello shots were left on the counter. You were going to walk home, anyway.

“Who are you?” 

“What if it’s a demon?” Someone asked. You couldn’t quite tell whose voice was coming from where in the dark. And you didn’t know everyone at the party, anyway, aside from the host and a few people who’d already left.

“Then we’ll ask him politely yet firmly to leave,” you said, giving your best Hank HIll impression. One person laughed, so at least someone here appreciated your ability to reference an unholy amount of TV shows or movies at the drop of a hat.

But the planchette didn’t slide across the letters DEMON. Instead, it shifted towards three letters in slow succession. 

M...O…M.

Something queasy turned over in your gut. The spiked cider and sub sandwich that had been sitting out too long, probably.

“Is anyone’s mom dead?” The host asked, then immediately gasped. “Oh fuck, sorry, that was shitty to say.” She glanced at you sheepishly. Your cheeks heated up and your stomach turned sour again.

Your mom was dead. But you probably weren’t alone, even in a small group. Cancer was a bitch and it took a lot of people, didn’t it? Ah well. You brushed aside that sour feeling and reminded yourself that your friend was drunk.

She cleared her throat. “Whose mom are you?”

The planchette started to move. The sound of the plastic moving over the cardboard was thin and dragging, like someone scraping their nails down a box.

Letter by letter, the planchette spelled your name.

You took your hands off the planchette and felt words fly freely out of your loose, alcohol-tinged lips.

“That’s really fucked up. Are you kidding me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The host--your friend, if you would even call her that anymore--put her own hands up in defense. Everyone else slowly let their fingers fall away from the planchette, watching the exchange between you two in awkward silence. 

Party over. 

“I swear to God I’m not moving it. I’m sorry, fuck, you know I wouldn’t do that. I swear to God I didn’t.”

You scooted back from the table and stood up. You felt sober, suddenly, even though your spinning head from getting up too quickly said otherwise.

“Whatever. I’m out. This is just mean.” You shook your head, ignoring your friend’s protests--

And that’s when the planchette started moving again. 

Slowly. Letter by letter. With no one’s hands on the damn thing.

“What the hell?” Someone asked. 

You didn’t want to look. You wanted to get out of here. It was a sick prank, that’s what it was. But the planchette kept moving, and finally someone leaned over and began to sound out the letters, until they formed a sentence.

A sentence that made your bowels clench so hard you thought you would piss yourself. 

I TOLD U NEVER TO PLAY WITH OUIJA BOARDS

It couldn’t be. This was sick. This was wrong. 

This was…

“Mom?”

The words left your lips soft and shaky.  You weren’t sure anyone else heard them.

But then the awful planchette slid across the board again, and someone read the letters until they made sense; terrible, horrifying sense.

ABSOLUTELY NO OUIJA BOARDS, MY SWEETNESS

My sweetness. A nickname only your mom had called you growing up. She called you that to her last breath, wheezing and agonized. 

You leaned over and immediately retched onto the carpet, blobs of bright green jello mingling with chewed up pieces of Italian sub. Before anything else could be said, by the board or the guests, you ran, barely stopping to snatch your purse from the entryway, leaving as fast as your shaking legs could carry you.

--

The streets were dark and mostly empty. It was long past time for kids to be in bed, stomachs filled with chocolate and piles of Skittles, parents picking out their favorite candies to hide in the cupboard. All that was left were the late night party-goers walking home in varying states of disarray, carrying heels in their hands or making jokes too loudly in the startling darkness of the night.

And then there was you, head buzzing, stomach reeling, walking home after a Ouija board apparently contacted the spirit of your dead mother.

“Excuse me?” A man called out behind you.

You jumped, and slid your hands into your purse to wrap your fingers around your keys.  You knew it wasn’t going to do much, but it would do something, if it came to that.

You slowly turned around, grip on your keys tighter than ever, and saw a young man wearing a skeleton hoodie and sweatpants. 

He looked befuddled. He looked, more specifically, lost.

And he also looked… familiar. Was he at the party? You squinted, trying to clear your head. He might have been. Did he follow you to see if you were okay?

You definitely knew him from somewhere, but you couldn’t quite place him. 

Still, your fingers reflexively gripped your keys. He glanced down at your hands, then took a step back and put his own hands up where you could see they were empty. 

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He grinned a little, and shook his head. “I’m just completely lost and was wondering if you could help me. I didn’t bring my phone out tonight. Trying to live in the moment, you know?”

You swallowed, tasting the remnants of bile. Something about him, really--it was itching at the back of your scalp. Did he go to the same college? Maybe you saw him on campus. Or maybe he really had been at your friend’s house and you just didn’t remember. 

“Um,” you said. “Were you at the party?” 

He tilted his head a little, and smiled boyishly.

“Not quite.” 

Well, that wasn’t an answer. Your fingers loosened on the keys, though, as your heart rate returned to something like normal and you figured if he was going to try something, he’d have done it already. 

You blinked at him for a moment and then remembered what he said. “Oh! Uh, where were you trying to go? I can use my Google Maps if you want.”

It was hard to see from the streetlights, but you could swear there was a twinkle in his eye when you said that. Shit, maybe you were drunker than you thought. 

You fished your phone from your purse and after a few unsuccessful swipe attempts, brought up Google Maps. 

But… it wouldn’t load. That was weird. You didn’t have any bars--also weird--but you downloaded the local map just in case your 5G ever shit the bed. But the map wouldn’t load. It simply displayed a blank black and gray space in night time mode, refusing to let you bring up directions.

“Uhh,” you mumbled. “My phone is absolutely not working.” 

He didn’t look phased. He simply shrugged. “That’s okay. I actually live off Main Street, it’s one of those split houses… yellow and red and--”

“I know where that is!” You blurted. Then covered your mouth, messy lipstick and all. “I mean. If you want, I can walk you there. Unless you’d rather go alone, and I can just give you directions.” 

“You seem pleasant enough company,” is all he said. And you ought to have thought about that more, because it was a really strange way to phrase things, wasn’t it? But all you thought about was how creepily your night ended and how he looked pretty cute and maybe you could exchange phone numbers when you got to his place.

You walked, side by side, making idle conversation. He told you his name. You gave him yours. He said he liked your costume. You said you really liked his sweater, totally Halloweeny, and he seemed to genuinely appreciate the compliment. 

The streets felt more familiar the closer you got to Main Street, although there was still only the odd stray person or car slowly idling down the road. 

Anxiety still slept in the bottom of your stomach but you tried to ignore it. It wasn’t so bad, to talk to a good looking stranger now and then. Especially after what happened at the party. 

(Was it really your mom?)

You didn’t want to think about that. About mom. About whether or not her spirit was hanging around in some ghastly limbo, chastising you for finally playing with a Ouija board like everyone else had done for decades. 

Eventually, you were there, at the driveway of the old house that had been split into apartments like so many others a few years ago. You fumbled with your phone and were able to ask for his phone number, lips curled into a smile, when he spoke.

“Did something happen? At the party? Something unusual?” 

Your awkward smile fell. 

“Um.” It would be weird to tell him, right? Especially after seemingly hitting it off on the way home. You didn’t just tell strangers that you maybe encountered a real ghost while using a Ouija board after doing a few shots and drinking questionably spiked apple cider at a friend’s house. Did you? 

“No,” you lied. “Just a boring ol’ Halloween party, I guess.” 

“Ah,” he said slowly. “That’s a shame. I thought it might have been an interesting story.”

You suddenly felt stupid and lame and why would this cute guy want to give you his number, anyway? You were some drunk weirdo who walked him home and that was that. You mumbled some sort of farewell and began to walk off, eager to get home and get into your pajamas. 

“You know,” he said, and you stopped and turned to listen to him. Maybe he was going to give you his contact information, after all.  “You should be careful with Ouija boards, my sweetness. You don’t know what you might invite in.” 

Oh. For the second time that night, you felt like you were going to vomit.

“Why did you call me that?  How did you--you said you weren’t at the party.” 

“I wasn’t,” he said simply. “Not quite.” 

How did he know, how did he know, how did he know?

And this mystery man in his Halloween sweatshirt, with his blonde cornfield hair and some awful, unknowable answers in his expression, simply looked at you.

And smiled. 

[idkbutimgabby]

Good Days - A Lee Minho ff

Hey loves... idk what has been going on but I've been feeling so emotional lately 😭 idk why bc I literally had my period already and I usually get super emotional right before... sorry if that's TMI but I'm so confused 😭 anyways this is the result of that. I hope you like it. I hope you cried as much as I have while writing this and looking for inspo.

word count: 1k

trope:

-fem!reader x bestfriend!leeknow

warnings: ANGST if I haven't made that clear enough, character death, car crash, drunk driving, cuts (? not sh just a tw jic) grieving, cursing, fluffy

Im so sorry 😭 my Instagram is cursed because why do I keep getting reel after reel of some heart wrenching story? Istg all I do is cry for strangers on the Internet ✊😔 Anyways I'm probably over hyping this you probably won't cry but if you did please tell me that would make me so happy 😭 you know what I mean 😒 *lightly proofread* calling all my emotional people this is for you get your tissues ready

Having a best friend is something you can't describe. Having someone you know will always run to you first, someone you would trust with your life and who you know would trust you with theirs. You can't even begin to spew some shit about how much you love him; it would be pointless. Words can't describe it, truly.

The person who stuck with you through the years, through the hardest times of your lives, and the best. The person who sat next to you during your first week of kindergarten because he saw you crying when you got lost on the first day. The person who you've never seen cry, because he doesn't like how it makes him feel.

The person who was there when you were sick, and who stayed up all night while you were asleep doing your missing assignments, because he knew you hated asking for extensions. The person that saw you grow up, and the one you saw grow up. The person who held you as you cried, wiped the tears from your cheeks and rocked you both to sleep.

The person you cheered on as he pursued his dreams of dancing. The person who cheered you on as you got into your dream school, joining a program you've been waiting to join since day one. The person who was driving you to your graduation, excited to walk across that stage and watch you walk across it, finally being able to acknowledge how far you've both come.

The person who was taken from you, when a driver under the influence ran a light and crashed into his side of the car. The same person you cut up your hands to shove all the shattered glass away from.

The person you've cried for countless times before, but this time you couldn't shed a tear. The person who you saw stop moving, whose pulse stopped even after your desperate attempts to save him. The person you slumped over, holding his body and ignoring the sharp shards of glass puncturing your skin and clothes.

The person whose body you held until you felt his spirit drift away. You think about that moment every day.

The person whose parents asked you to speak at his funeral and deliver the final speech, because who else could do it but you? You're not a public speaker. You couldn't possibly remember a speech, and you didn't want to write it out because your hands would have been shaking too much to read the words anyway. Instead, you just wove your speech around one memory that still sticks in your mind, all on the spot. You cried everyday after the accident, but you made it through your speech, driven by the fact that he needed to hear everything you had neglected to tell him while he was still there.

"I remember one time that he asked me the question, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" It was a joke. I rolled my eyes, probably slapped his arm. But I return to that moment when I grieve for him. And I wish I had told him everything that question brought up in my mind. I think that was one moment I realized how big a part of me he really is. I wish I had told him that I would love him until the worms swallowed up every last bit of him. That when I'm six feet under the ground, with the worms eating my brain, they'll see visions of him; his beautiful face, crooked smile, bunny teeth, and glittery eyes. They'll smell what he smelled like; the vanilla and orchid scent that always calmed me down, and still does. They will hear him call my name, voice of honey, where you were always able to hear his smile. They will experience the greatest of wonders, as they feast on the corner of my brain that houses him. They won't be able to move an inch without bumping into a piece of him. Then, I'll fade away, as will he. And they'll go back to eating, gnawing away in awe at the wonders they experienced, the wonders that were my best friend."

The person who got you, understood you in a way that no one else will. The person who your family accepted as another of their children, who was treated at your house like a prince. The person who snuck through your window at night anyway to hang out, just because he wanted to know what it was like. The person who always did the most for everyone else without making it obvious because he didn't like making a fuss over it.

The person who always bought and wore jewelry and clothes that supported a cause or charity, and encouraged others to do the same. The person who had three cats he loved more than even you. The person who always cooked for you when you mentioned a new food you wanted to try, and who fed you bites just because he wanted to and thought it was cute.

The person you loved the most. The person who loved you the most. The person you'll always miss, who you'll never forget, and who you'll go to hell and back to make sure no one else forgets about him either.

Your beautiful best friend. Simultaneously angelic and feral. The oddest person. The sweetest person. Now unburdened, cutting through the sky and watching over you. Forever your best friend, forever a worm. Forever your worm, actually.

You love him.

again I deeply apologize. LINO ISNT DEAD GUYS HES ALIVE AND WELL I PROMISE 🙏😭 ngl tho I was flowing with this one... I might try writing angst more often 🤭 normally I'm a fluffy kinda girl (my favorite trope is literally bsfs 2 lvrs 😭) next fic guys watch out I'm getting better at this 🤫 also I'm so sad I don't have the original author but I did get some of the speech from a poet on Instagram just fyi 😓

Anyways love you 💋💋 Muah byebye 💕

written from: