#girl this ain't competition

[ticchina]

There is no way some of yall fuckers saw 2 hot men making out on tv and the first thought that came to you head was to have unhealthy obsession over only one of them and hate the other one with passion.

side eye

[astonmartinii]

rookie love | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader

sure it's a rookie mistake to lose it in a corner, but is it a rookie mistake to fall in love with lewis hamilton's younger sister?

request from the lovely @starfriuts

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

f1

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,324,772 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername & logansargeant

f1: welcome the rookie class of 2023 !! 2021 f2 champion oscar piastri will race for mclaren, 2022 f2 champion y/n hamilton will be racing for aston martin and 2022 f2 runner up logan sargeant will be racing for williams!

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user1: MY prema girlies

user2: 2019 rookies i am so sorry but there's a new favourite in town

yourusername: two hamiltons on the grid i know that's right 💅 👯‍♀️

lewishamilton: they hate us cause they ain't us

yourusername: they can't handle the sass

lewishamilton: neither can the fia

yourusername: ... yeah i've been briefed :(

user3: okay, walk with me. if y/n does all of grill the grid, lewis might do the secret santa again

user4: hopes and prayers

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm teammates with a rookie hamilton, i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: i lived through that old man, don't think i won't use your own tricks on you

fernandoalo_oficial: well there's no dna test necessary here

yourusername: the slay is hereditary, but clearly skipped your generation

fernandoalo_oficial: HEY

oscarpiastri: get her jade

fernandoalo_oficial: EY?

user5: the way the grid are not ready for how ride or die y/n and oscar are for each other

user6: bro just quoted COCO MONTRESE for her i am so ready

logansargeant: dude we're getting the band back together

oscarpiastri: f1 boyband have nothing on us

yourusername: xnda who?

lewishamilton: :/

yourusername: no one is safe sorry lew @charles_leclerc you're next piano boy

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user7: i know the aston martin pr department sweating buckets with both fernando and y/n

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 1,332,551 others

yourusername: the hamilton name comes with the wardrobe

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user8: finally lewis has some competition

user9: if there's something a hamilton is going to do it's going to be wearing a monochromatic outfit.

lewishamilton: was the third photo really necessary?

yourusername: yes!

lewishamilton: you're so corny

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking.... DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

lewishamilton: girl. i've read your diary and your code names don't mean SHIT

yourusername: YOU WHAT?

lewishamilton: got bored when you had a work call ?

yourusername: come to aston's hospitality i got something to show you

lewishamilton: just text me

yourusername: no. spoiler: it's my FOOT up your ASS

user10: so i thought the tussles would be between fernando and y/n not y/n and lewis

georgerussell63: this is just how they are, they'll be besties again in like two minutes

oscarpiastri: why is my outfit not on here you said i slayed :(

yourusername: you did slay !!

landonorris: he literally wore a team shirt and chinos

yourusername: yes but on the oscar scale that is a slay

oscarpiastri: exactly

landonorris: ok?

yourusername: watch your tone mr. norris, you're being awfully loud for a ripped skinny jeans owner 🤨

landonorris: ????

oscarpiastri: :)

user11: okay i think i get the whole ride or die thing now

logansargeant: believe me it gets worse

lewishamilton

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tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: bucket list moment ticked off to share a podium in f1 with my baby sister !!

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user14: two hamiltons in f1 and on the podium before gta 6

user15: we got two hamiltons on the podium but still can't escape a max win

yourusername: thank you for not posting the picture of me bawling my eyes out

lewishamilton: i thought i'd be nice, just this once. i'm proud of you

yourusername: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu. insane to be on the podium with my biggest idol

maxverstappen1: y/n that's very kind of you

lewishamilton: really?

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭

maxverstappen1: saw the opportunity and had to go for it

yourusername: i respect that

lewishamilton: but i am your biggest idol right?

yourusername: yes.

user16: max really out here like i will make a double hamilton podium about me LOL

oscarpiastri: that's my best friend GO BEST FRIEND

yourusername: oscar piastri podium coming soon @mclaren get ur shit together

oscarpiastri: PR KNOW SHE DOESN'T MEAN THAT

yourusername: no i mean every word i wanna be on the podium with oscar :(

oscarpiastri: slumber party ?

yourusername: i'll be there @logansargeant u coming?

logansargeant: i don't really feel like third wheeling

this comment was deleted

logansargeant: if you're buying the room service - yeah

user17: LOGAN WE SAW THAT

user18: y/n x oscar truthers we have some more evidence for the board

user19: gets first woman in f1 on the podium... immediately assumes she’s in a relationship with another driver

user20: i see where you're coming from but watch the prema videos and tell me there's no tension there

user21: idk if oscar can handle all of that ...

user22: i have faith in my goofy lil guy

liked by yourusername

user22: WHAT

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 612,094 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: pookie was on the podium

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user23: okay you shipper bitches may have had a point...

yourusername: when pookie calls you pookie you know it's real

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt older than when i listen to you and oscar talk for more than five minutes

yourusername: the girls who get it, get it

oscarpiastri: and the girls who don't.... well

fernandoalo_oficial: i am a 42 year old man

yourusername: and it shows

oscarpiastri: ... oop

user24: oh they annoying... KEEP GOING

lewishamilton: so this is what you left the after party for?

yourusername: yeah and what about it?

lewishamilton: okay like maybe i need to separate you and oscar cause why are you eating me up

yourusername: i'm me but oscar is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse

oscarpiastri: guilty as charged (i learnt everything from your sister)

user25: you guys acting like oscar being like this is a surprise ... we didn't all see him scalp alpine last summer?

user26: the way in my head him and y/n wrote that tweet together and were giggling the whole time

yourusername: we can neither confirm or deny

user27: that's confirmation to me

logansargeant: when will the logan sargeant erasure end?

yourusername: when you serve as much as me?

logansargeant: i am TRYING

yourusername: plus this is an appreciation post for me, stop trying to steal opportunities from women

logansargent: HUH?

oscarpiastri: so disappointing from you logan...

logansargeant: i'm so done with you two

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,309,562 others

yourusername: summer break is annoying i wanna go racing again

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user31: WHO IS THAT MAN?

user32: my brain (psychosis) tells me it is oscar

user33: i'll believe you

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU SOFT LAUNCH WITHOUT TELLING ME

yourusername: girl. sort the tone and i'll call you

lewishamilton: do you think i am dumb? i know exactly who that is, i just need the confirmation so i can beat his ass

yourusername: why would i tell you if you're gonna beat his ass?

lewishamilton: JUST TELL ME

yourusername: you'll have to find me to do that, see you in zandvoort xxx

user34: i think lewis is having brocedes flashbacks

user35: i know bro is PACING

fernandoalo_oficial: you wanna give me a tow in qualifying?

yourusername: why would i do that old man?

fernandoalo_oficial: @lewishamilton i know.

lewishamilton: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FERNANDO KNOWS?

yourusername: NOT ON PURPOSE HE'S JUST NOSEY AND LIKES TO READ MY TEXTS OVER MY SHOULDER

fernandoalo_oficial: guilty 💅

yourusername: fine. one tow.

fernandoalo_oficial: thanks girly

user36: we have to study the girlypopification of fernando since being teammates with y/n

oscarpiastri: it's missing pookie hours

yourusername: i am having separation anxiety

user37: these hoes think we don't know 😂

user38: they think they're throwing us on their scent ... YALL NOT SUBTLE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 802,778 others

oscarpiastri: does this count as a win?

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user39: sorry max we got an oscar win we don't care about your championship win

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO POOKIE

oscarpiastri: slumber party is gonna eat i fear (why do we have to race tomorrow?)

yourusername: you know who else ate? YOU TODAY

oscarpiastri: hehehehe i guess i did

yourusername: no i am so fucking proud of you

oscarpiastri: love you

yourusername: luv you too

user40: okay so they're just playing with our feelings now?

landonorris: proud of you bro (please turn down the beyonce)

oscarpiastri: don't make me enter my lemonade era

landonorris: are you threatening me with a brocedes?

oscarpiastri: maybe?

yourusername: lmao watch your ass lando, i gave him the play-by-play i was in the brocedes trenches

lewishamilton: 1. happy for you oscar 2. SHUT THE FUCK UP

oscarpiastri: oops?

yourusername: sorry lewis, we'll stop joking about britney if you finally call him

nicorosberg: stop calling me that

lewishamilton: why are you here?

nicorosberg: just observing...

user41: poor lewis having his trauma used as a joke 😭

logansargeant: i'm defo skipping this slumber party

user42: you want to elaborate?

logansargeant: no. i don't think i will

user43: JUST SPILL

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,903,448 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: got my first win, me and my boyfriend are better than you x

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user44: I FUCKING KNEW IT

user45: i'm gonna need all the bitches who came for me for shipping them so give me my flowers

oscarpiastri: finally. you're too cute not to kiss all the time

yourusername: then hurry up and come here

oscarpiastri: gladly

user46: no i think he actually went, these bitches usually never shut the fuck up

lewishamilton: ...

georgerussell63: oscar RUN THE BREATHING TECHNIQUES AREN'T WORKING

alexalbon: no he's actually going to scrap you RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

landonorris: those dumbasses don't know what is about to hit them

yourusername: why is logan texting me 911 who is being dramatic

yourusername: wait

yourusername: is that him already

georgerussell63: yes for such a short man he's surprisingly fast

lewishamilton: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

yourusername: no!

lewishamilton: I JUST WANNA TALK

oscarpiastri: your tone is scaring me

yourusername: OSCAR NO

lewishamilton: OPEN THE DOOR

user47: it's been 20 mins, can we have an update

oscarpiastri: i am alive!

lewishamilton: regardless of what just happened, i am so proud of you y/n !!

yourusername: i love you big brother :))))))

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration, here's to many more!

user48: lewis being all supportive now after he's scrapped oscar?

lewishamilton: i didn't fight him, he had 30 seconds to convince me not to kill him

oscarpiastri: i did very well :)

lewishamilton: sure

yourusername: you did great babe

oscarpiastri: :)

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,099,457 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please don't put me into the barriers lewis, i love your sister

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user51: i think it's safe to say that the 2023 rookies have out done the 2019 rookie sorry not sorry

yourusername: POOKIE, I LOVE YOU POOKIE

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO POOKIE

logansargeant: can i like have a medal or some championship points for 1. dealing with this nonsense and 2. keeping this a secret

yourusername: you're our favourite third wheel? that's all i got

oscarpiastri: we also pay for your room service every time

logansargeant: ... fine

user52: they're all so close to me, need y/n and oscar to be the first husband and wife to both win a championship

yourusername: that's the plan 🤞

oscarpiastri: are you PROPOSING TO ME?

yourusername: not yet...

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

lewishamilton: SLAM ON THE BRAKES, I JUST GOT USED TO THIS LET'S NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE

yourusername: maybe you need to leave your slag era so i can wife oscar

lewishamilton: DO NOT SLUTSHAME ME

user53: the hamilton piastri house about to be ground zero for the sassy man apocalypse

landonorris: you people are so grossly in love, how did we miss it?

alexalbon: speak for yourself it was so obvious

yourusername: we we're pretty obvious

oscarpiastri: yeah i can confirm that when we told you we were having a pillow fight, we were not

landonorris: WHAT

lewishamilton: delete this.

fernandoalo_oficial: @yourusername did you guys do this so you didn't have to give me a tow?

yourusername: yes xoxoxo

note: i hope you enjoy. life is insane right now but i got my first article at the top of the google rankings so there's that. also ordered my graduation gown and dress!! much love x

[the-expose-on-girls]

PSA

For those who don't know:

A beautiful, smart, talented girl can exist in your vicinity without taking away your opportunities (career, romantic, etc.), attention, or positive perception by others.

The "this town ain't big enough for the both of us" mentality is not necessary or helpful to anyone.

Coexist. Everything will be fine.

PLUS, a new friend might be found, if they are not instantly and needlessly written off as the enemy.

[wonryllis]

𝜗𝜚ㅤTHAT'S MY GIRL! ( their idol s/o has dating rumours with someone else )

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗒!

﹙NOTES.﹚ enhypen as your idol counterpart. fluff. fem!centered. lowercase intded. 1098wc. requested by anonie 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 the one who ends up revealing your relationship in the most unhinged way. look he really loves the thrill of a secret relationship and he's so grateful to be chosen and loved by you but he just cannot stand you being romantically associated with someone that's not him. like why anyone else when he's literally here? sad baby starts a weverse live to vent in code (lies he planned it all so strategically, the perfect little irreversible plan) but ends up slipping your name in between as if he wasn't just giving it all away, "whose scrunchie is that? oh this blue one?" picking up the silk rubber from the corner the fans spotted it in,"it's y/n's," and when asked why, he's babbling on before anyone can stop him," because my baby was here yesterd-" live ended.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 the one who is so secure in himself, he wouldn't give a damn about it. please he couldn't be bothered in the least whether there's one or hundred rumours or articles, he knows he's the only one for you. though sometimes he would want to show you off a bit but that's okay there will come that day when he would put a ring on that finger and declare to everyone just how much he loves you. "jay did you know about that rumor i had with-" you enter the room, wanting some lovely words from your lovely boyfriend,"baby you know i love you lots no article or rumor's gonna change that ever," you giggle rushing over to him and leaving fluttering kisses on his cheeks, "just wanted to tell you he's apparently rumoured to have beef with you," "we meet after a week and that's all you gotta say? come on baby,"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 the one who is full of himself, convinced it was just a lame ass set up for a while. he opens the article once, reads a lone single line and it's done. the next time you're meeting he'll be like, i saw the article of you with so and so, saw the pictures too and well i understand. can't deny your chemistry speaks but that's because they haven't seen you with me yet, "we literally define chemistry baby, he ain't nothing before me," his ego shines so bright and it's even crazy that you find that attractive about him. the next time he sees that idol he's gonna be hella sarcastic and fans are so confused to see the puppy guy behave like that. "i know he's no competition for me but honeybun how dare they like, man know your limits," he's not stressed he says all week.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 the one who ends up making dating rumours of himself with that idol. honestly he hates it, the rumours are eating away at him and it's worse that you're mc partners with that idol. will stare that guy's kidneys down when on an interview on the show. and then boom the next day there's articles all over the internet about how he was giving his heart eyes the entire time. "is this damage control or is this self sabotage?" he's questioning himself as much as he is questioning you, but does it really matter the mission was successful and now your name is no longer attached to that shit. now well it's his go to plan everytime you get dating rumours only stopping when it's his name beside yours, "baby, i got it all under control trust me. no one will ever try to pretend to date you," he's not leaving anyone unstained who dares to go for his baby.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎 the one who strangely gets excited over the news, boy are you sure it's rumours about your s/o? he's quite literally the first one to find out and he's ecstatic to know the love of his life is so popular and even more that you're getting free publicity like you go girl it's all an image, i know who's the real one. there is no jealousy jealousy, but he's still like,"don't be too cocky about your options, you're stuck with me bun," if he knows that idol, he's definitely talking about it in his next live, subtly trying to debunk the rumours saying oh my friend's got no rizz, way to roast for love. however there are moments of craziness when he'd add fuel to the fire and start new rumours, "babes, i got you some more publicity, your company's not doing shit for you they gotta thank me,"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 the one who purposely tries to set you up for schedules with himself so that he can start rumours about you both. on his managers ass to arrange shows you can participate together in, to creat opportunities for him to interact with you as much as he possibly can. might even pressurize the poor manager to open fan accounts and spread rumours about y'all. "baby, i got this show for us next week, we're gonna be making news soon!" excited he speaks into the phone, on his way to your dorm without any disguise hoping paparazzi catches him?? with his manager running after him trying to convince him there's better ways. "wonie, do you wanna join we got married?" boom bam boom you're just as crazy as him, your mates cannot fathom how y'all haven't been discovered yet.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 the one who teases you but in a sorta jealous, i need some validation kind of way. he knows it's not serious but he just can't help it, he just constantly wants to be reassured by you, it makes him feel all these giddy butterflies like yes i bagged this amazing person. and it's so sad he can't show it to the world, but if you love him back then that's all that matters. "heard you got a new boyfie?" he looks at you wiggling his brows in a pout as you hangout in an empty dressing room after your performances, "what no? you're my boyfriend, the permanent one," you assure his ass but he's liking this so much,"the how many side hoes have you got?" he starts again, "only one," you tease, "does it start with a r and end with an i?" "i don't think so," "y/n!" always ends like this.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie

[allpromarlo]

no amount of ref crying any nba player in history has ever done compares to the shit that i just experienced in fucking 12th grade p.e. class

[mncxbe]

OMG OMG, what about, Bsd characters(pls include jouno, I'm starved of content from him) with a drunk s/o, that is all like "I have a boyfriend/girlfriend, don't touch me(or sth else, but u get the gist-)" ALSO if you don't want to do this, don't. <<<:

Ok I love the idea. I tried to make it as silly as possible hope you like it♡♡

Note: I have some Ango content for tomorrow👀

°☆○

Strawberry Daiquiri

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: silly/ fluff♡

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

starting off with our blind king; let's assume that you're so drunk you don't recognize him

he's amused by your act at first, but the longer you keep it up the more frustrated he gets

he does find it cute that you're so loyal to him tho; also worried that you're so drunk

surely teases you about it the next day

Although he may not seem like it, Jouno was a supportive boyfriend; your unyielding determination was his favourite quality. He didn't see any problem with it until one day you decided to beat Fukuchi in a drinking competition.

"I'm telling you Sai. I got this" you said as you walked into the captain's office with a handful of bottles of sake.

Your boyfriend only rolled his eyes and went back to his business. He returned three hours later when he finally managed to finish the last of his reports. Knocking at the mahogany door he gently pushed it open, stepping inside the room.

"Captain" he saluted with a small bow and Fukuchi waved at him, utterly unaware that the man couldn't see it.

Just then, your voice echoed through the room; a high pitched groan.

"Naah captain I'm sure I'll beat you. Pour more for me." Your words were slurred and Jouno could sense your hightened body temperature, a sign of clear intoxication.

Fukuchi chuckled, filling your cup again.

"You think you can take it? You look quite plastered to me"

"I'm not done 'till you are."

A smile rose to Jouno's lips as he caught the hint of resolve in your voice, but he knew by your fast heartbeat that you should probably stop drinking soon. He walked to your side, gently seizing your forearm.

"Let's go home Y/N. I think you've had enough to drink tonight"

"Huh? Fuck off dude I have a boyfriend." you said nonchalantly, yanking your arm away.

For a brief moment Jouno was baffled, hand frozen in mid air as he watched you down another glass; but then he snapped back to reality.

"Hey Y/N look at me." he said playfully, seizing your chin to make you look up to him. "It's me, Sai"

"Sai..." you contemplated, his name rolling off your lips in a low hum "Ah Sai"

From across the table Fukuchi let out a low chuckle. "Take her home, Jouno. She's drunk"

"No I'm not. I ain't stopping 'till I get you... uh..-till you give up" you mumbled, causing Jouno to sigh.

"We're out of alcohol Y/N" added Fukuchi, dangling the last empty bottle before your eyes.

"Please dear let's go home" Jouno cooed, his fingers gently intertwining with yours and you eventually got up, holding on to the back of your chair for support.

"I consider this this a draw, captain" you said sluggishly and Fukuchi nodded.

"Goodnight to you two"

With that, Jouno snaked an arm around your waist and walked with you out of the office, down the halls of the Hunting Dogs's headquarters and on to the crowded street. He raised a hand to hail a cab and as soon as the yellow vehicle pulled over, your boyfriend opened the backseat door and placed you inside; then joined you in the backseat.

Jouno gave the driver your address and the car drove off towards your apartment.

"Are you feeling ok darling?" he asked in a concerned voice and you nodded, scooting closer to him.

"Yea I am..." After a moment of silence you added in the same slurred, giddy tone. "Say, are you really my boyfriend? You're handsome."

Jouno blushed furiously at your words, his lips curling into a sly smile. "You bet I am pretty girl."

The lights of the city came and went in blurry waves, causing your head to ache. You leaned your head on the crook of Jouno's neck, shielding your vision. He only chuckled, placing one of his hands on top of your head.

"Go sleep darling. I'll wake you up at home"

You mumbled a mhm before closing your eyes and, drunk on love and sake, drifted into a deep slumber.

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

such a tease; will make fun of you about it tomorrow if you don't recognize him

he's a smooth operator

he's all like: "Aww sure my sweet lady. How about you tell me more about that boyfriend of yours then?" and just sits there listening to you praise him

probably carries you home and puts you to bed after

It was Yosano's birthday and she decided to take the Agency members out for a drink at a local pub. The place was cozy, dimly lit; low, wooden tables lining the sides of the room. Peach Pit's "Alrighty Aphrodite" sounded through the speakers in the corner of the room.

Not only three hours in you were plastered, body hunched over as you rested your arms on your table. Seeing your state, Dazai made his way to your side and took a seat next to you.

"Everything alright bella?" he hummed cheerfully, causing you to moan.

"Ah shut up. My head hurts." you whined, holding your head between the palms of your hand. "And just so you know I already have someone so... [you hiccup] just let me be."

"Oh I see" Dazai chuckled, placing his drink on the table. "Why don't you tell me more about that boyfriend of yours then."

Only then you raised your head, eyes half lidded as a tender smile rose to your lips. "My 'samu is such a darling. So handsome and smart. He gives the best hugs you know?"

You casually wrapped your arms around your own body, demonstrating your words. "Just like this. And he's so handsome and... he's caring. I love him lots ya know?" you went on.

Dazai chuckled upon hearing your words. "Is that so?"

"Yea. And- Hold on mind if I just?" you asked, leaning your aching head on his shoulder "Mm this is better. Anyway, 'samu's the one for me. I just know it. Did you ever feel this way about someone?"

"I did. I do, in fact." he replied, taking in your sleepy features: your cheeks were flushed, nostrils slightly flaring as you steadily breathed in and out, lashes fluttering shut.

"That's nice then" was all you said before dozzing off on his shoulder.

Your boyfriend smiled again and placed a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

"I love you too, bella" he said in a hushed voice before downing the rest of his drink, the golden liquid warming up his insides just like you did with his heart and soul. [so cheesy of me nah]

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

poor baby is so confused at first

he frowns so much

if you do end up recognizing him and get all giddy and affectionate he's gonna blush so much omg

probably asks you not to get drunk again cuz he's lowkey scared you'll get brain damage

"Piss off. I have a boyfriend" you said with a blank expression as you brushed his hand away from your shoulder, swaying your hips towards the bar.

Akutagawa was left speechless, utterly confounded by your sudden actions. 'What the...' he thought, walking right after you. The roaring music in the bar made it impossible for you to hear him calling out your name.

"Hey Y/N. Cut it out will you" he hissed, seizing your wrist.

"Let go of me" you pleaded, trying to free yourself but ended up stumbling backwards. If it weren't for Rashōmon you would've fallen flat on the hard floor of the bar; the black tendrils wrapped around your waist, bringing you back to your feet.

After you managed to regain your composure your glassy eyes met his, gazes locked in a drunk daze. Then a sign of recognition flashed in your eyes and your lips curled into a soft smile.

"Aww Ryuu baby" you giggled, arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm quite drunk baby"

"I can see that..." he stammered, trying to hide the rosy blush that bloomed on his cheeks upon hearing your endearment. "Want me to take you home?"

"Yea I'd like that sweetie" you continued in the same slurred voice. You pulled away from him a bit but your faces were still mere inches apart, a giddy smirk on your lips; fingers toying with the tufts of his hair.

Just when Akutagawa was about to walk towards the exit your lips found his and you pulled your body flush against his. The kiss was sloppy and warm, the taste of alcohol on your sugary lips causing your boyfriend to moan lightly. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

After a few moments he gently pushed you away. His face was red as a tomato.

"Come on Y/N. Let's go home"

"But I wanna kiss you mooore" you pouted and attempted to kiss him again but he leaned slightly back, chuckling.

"How about you kiss me at home? I'll let you kiss me all you want." he said awkwardly but it wad enough for you to take a step back.

You grabbed his wrist and marched through boisterous crown and towards the back exit of the bar where you car was parked.

"We better hurry then" you added playfully, voice muffled by the sounds around you.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

untitled

I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.2

Prettyyyyy

Maybe John's not actually crazy for thinking Hey Jude is to him? “For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” fool is, in my tin hat world, often a code name for Paul in their songs. And that description is certainly him to a t actually. I wonder why I've never considered it before. 

John: are you happy here, honey? Paul: I ain't happy here my honey, can you take me back? How many songs does Paul write from 1968 on about trying to go back? One day I'm going to make a list and it'll be a long one. 

And thus begins the phase of they just can't help it, can they? But they really wish they could. They make each other so so happy, but they really wish they didn't. It would hurt less that way. 

I love the comparison of Linda's pictures of everyone else and then of John. It just shows that it's not a her problem – that's such a lovely one of George, who Hates Yoko – it's how he feels about her.

John, coming up with every possible weapon to provoke Paul, finally has Yoko sing Paul's part in one of their songs. It really is such a slap in the face. But of course breaking the sanctity of their music is what does it best. And still, all he gets out of him is a look before he walks away. Whatever it is that John wants, I think Paul literally can not give it to him. 

Btw the white album is my favorite, probably. There's just such incredible diversity on it. It's so much fun, you never get tired of it, and it's an excellent display of their genius and versatility. 

He looks like an abandoned puppy. 

What do we think? John says Paul drummed on WDWDITR. Paul says Ringo did. Who is telling the truth?

“It was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that but he couldn't make the break . . .” So John thinks Paul doing his songs by himself means he wants to break the group up? I personally read it as him not wanting to annoy everyone with his bossiness, but that's just my take. 

John talking about how it's him and Yoko now, but before, it was . . .

George needs to send them a cease and desist notice or he'll sue them for breech of character the amount of times they drag him into things he's not a part of. Especially if they're not going to even fucking spare him a glance in reality. Please and thank you, Hare Krishna. 

Paul's epigraph on the two virgins cover. “Battles to prove he was a saint”? What kind of passive aggressive shit is that, Paul?

The eternal question: what happened in India? And does John really not know? Or is he just unwilling to tell what happened to rolling stone?

Somebody please engage with that poor little boy, preferably, you know, his father. Ugh, Cynthia must've had so much anxiety watching that footage, or really any time Julian was with John. And that footage is placed in the doc right after a pic of Paul already being Heather's dad just so naturally. 

But hell, if I've ever seen attention-seeking behavior, this is it. Singing about wanting to die while seductively undressing the closest thing Paul would've had to career competition at the time. 

I'm sorry but it will forever be hilarious to me that when John's singing his part of “I've Got a Feeling” with Yoko it's “soft dream” and then with Paul it's “wet dream”. How John and Yoko tricked everyone into believing they were too horny for each other to control themselves is beyond my imagination. 

On the day John plays their sex tape, “Unusually, Yoko is not present.” LMAO girl same. John: I'm going to play our sex tape for the band tomorrow. Yoko: oh was that tomorrow? Damn, I forgot, I have a thing. 

“Well that's an interesting one.” What did John honestly expect, though? Like I know he wanted Paul to be like, “that's it! Enough is enough I'm taking you home and doing you right!” Or whatever. But what did he honestly, realistically expect?

Always saying the same things at the same time, always on the same page, same word. About everything, it seems, except their relationship. 

Paul: but you won't say anything about it. John: I said what I've been thinking. Paul: Are you still thinking that now? What are you thinking now? John: I'm still thinking about it. Infuriating. Whatever it is John's been thinking, he doesn't want to talk about it in front of cameras. Is it quitting the band? I think it's something more complicated than that but I've no idea what. 

“John, John, joooooohn!” X “Martha my Dear” crossover my beloved. The fact that literally Everyone reacts and tries to get her to stop except Paul is so extremely telling. Yoko: joooooohn! Ringo: He's busy! Yoko: joooooohn! John: Stop that! (And he looks and sounds genuinely pissed) Yoko: joooooohn! Paul: (plinking and pounding away, definitely not thinking thoughts about what he would do right now if he was a girl that will come out of his mouth fifteen years later)

Everyone's trying to figure out the problem with George vs JohnandYoko and Paul's saying “and like with Yoko, they’re real. They mean it.” Linda laughs. “I don't dig that.” You don't, Linda? What about them isn't real to her, I wonder. Does she think they don't really love each other? Or what?

Linda: *Makes fart noise* Go away! Paul: continues to defend them. Neil: everybody cough. See and this is why it sucks that get back was so edited. Because it's important that Paul's defending them here not just going on and on where nobody asked. He knows he's hurt John, and he feels bad enough about it to let him have his mommy with him at all times if that's what he needs.

If what??? Someone needs to force them to finish their damn sentences. Because I feel like he cuts himself off here when (I swear!!) he's about to say what it is that's hurting John so badly.

Anyway, here's where (imo) he's kinda wrong. Where he says "if it came to a push between Yoko and the band, it's Yoko." I think I said it in my get back posts, but I'll say it again. Yeah, if it was Yoko or the band, it's Yoko. But if it's Yoko or Paul filling all the gaps Yoko is currently filling? It's Paul. You know? And I think that's what John wants so badly at this time, actually. Is “a push between Yoko and [Paul]” ending with Paul stepping up for him in some way that he wasn't before, you know?

He really does get it though. John wanting to be as close as possible with Yoko so he doesn't lose her and their connection. Don't forget he does put Linda in his band. He gets it because it was the same with him and John. 

I really do think it's a huge myth that they just never talked about feelings or anything serious. Look at them. This is how they talk in a crowded place with their girlfriends sitting right there. They didn't just get through fifteen years of one of the greatest collaborations in history never actually talking. They talked about deep stuff. And frequently. 

[fillinforlater]

(T)highly likely

Male Reader x Choi Lia

Length: 1234 words

Tags: dialogue only, smut, professor/student dynamic, basically prostitution, sex for a favor, good student/bad girl, degradation, overstimulation, dirty talk, bullet vibrator, clit stimulation, clit play, biting, marking, fondling tits, thigh fucking, cumming on thighs, thigh kink?, bimbofication, wet orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, professor!You

TW: dialogue only, barely edited

Inspiration: studying sucks, @midnightdancingsol does not. They just told me to and my "brain" came up with something

(A/N: it ain't much, but I hope y'all like my 111 fic xD)

“Professor, I need three points.”

“Good morning, Miss Choi. Sit down first, please. There is no need to hurry.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s rare for you to be so stressed and blunt; did something happen? Did anyone—did I misgrade your latest exam?”

“It’s not that, it’s just—look, Professor, I read your reasoning and then I reread it and I understand it, but it’s not enough, you know?”

“I do not know, Miss Choi? If I remember correctly, your latest exam was very good, and you definitely don’t need to panic about any of your grades. You are one of the best in this field.”

“But it’s not enough! ‘Very good’ and ‘one of the best’ is not it. Professor, it’s just not enough. I need to be at the top.”

“Miss Choi, this is not high school. You should be old enough to accept that in this University, being on your level is great, excellent even! If you keep these grades up your future will not be in peril. I think you can live with not ‘winning’ an imaginary competition.”

“Three points.”

“Hm?”

“I calculated it. Miss Shin gave me all her grades and all I need are three points to pass her, so—”

“Miss Choi, if you believe that I will give you these three points and thereby risk my integrity and future at this facility just so you can have your childish feel-good award, then you are very wrong. I ask you to lea—”

“I offer myself, my body, for three points.”

“Miss Choi—!”

“You can do everything you want, touch me and fuck me however you like!”

“Miss Choi—!”

“I know how to keep a secret, and I swear, I’m so good at—”

“Miss Choi, shut it! I think you are incredibly moronic for even suggesting this. This offer, for something so insignificant, laughable…

“But if you want to sell your body for some points, then I recommend you wear clothing befitting of a whore. This will not do, I can barely see the benefits of your offer. Return only if you’ve put some effort into it, even better, forget about this all. I don’t believe you are stupid enough for this.”

“I-I…”

“Now get out.”

#

“Hello, Professor.”

“Good evening, Miss Ch—now that is more like it.”

“So~ you like what you see?”

“I like your commitment to your new, real self.”

“My ‘real self’? What do you—hng!”

“You are a slut, Lia, a whore, selling her body for favors. I’m sure this is just the beginning. From now on you will do it over and over again.”

“T-that’s not true! I-I’m smart enough to—”

“If you were truly smart, you wouldn’t accept my hand under that skimpy dress; you’d run out screaming at the touch of my tongue on your clavicle and chest. But no, you even start to moan and become wet. Your thong is already drenched.”

“Professor~”

“Turn around, Lia. Pull up that dress and show what you’re selling. 

“God, the first time I saw a glimpse of your thighs on campus I knew you’d one day realize their value. Damn, even your butt is quite nice.”

“Is it worth three points~?”

“We’ll see about that. Lia, do you know what this is?”

“A bullet vibrator, Pro~fessor.”

“Put it on your clit. Now.”

“O-of course. Ah, fuck!”

“Don’t control your moans. Curse and don’t stop pressing it down on your clit. I want you to tremble, tremble like the nympho bitch you want to be.”

“Ahhh, Professor, I, I—”

“You are so fucking needy already? Show me! Show me how you cum and wet your fat thighs while I—”

“N-no, I’m so close~!

“Ah, not my tits!

“Professor, I—Ahhh!”

“Look at you! I’m groping your bimbo tits for one second and you are already squirming and squeezing your juices out. Lia, I bet you are hornier than I am.

“Let me question your intentions: Is this really about the three points or do you have some kind of fetish for this?”

“P-points, Professor, just—hng—points!

“Not there, ah!”

“Tell the truth, Lia. I won’t be as gentle with your clit… or your throat… or your blonde hair, you fucking slut.”

“It feels so good~”

“Answer the question, slut!”

“No, I-I’m cumming a-again! Yes, right there, oh God, yes—

“H-hey, no! Why did you stop?”

“You know exactly why. I’m totally down for not letting you cum the rest of the night, hell, even the entire weekend. Your disappointed, needy face underneath those blonde curtains is quite attractive.”

“Hmph, you’re an asshole, Professor.”

“For wanting the truth?”

“For… for not finishing it.”

“Well, the chances of your next orgasm rise the faster you answer my question. Come on, Lia, you are smart enough to know this.”

“F-fine, fucking fine!

“Yes, I need the three points, b-but you… is what I really want.”

“You want me?”

“Yes.”

“You want to sell yourself to me?”

“Y-yes…?”

“That did not sound very convincing.”

“Yes! Yes, I want, I need men like you, Professor. I-I don’t get satisfied by anything else anymore.”

“Very good. I like your honesty. However, I think the basis for our agreement has changed. You should be begging for me to use you, to not ignore you—but I will be merciful today.”

“Ah, fuck, that hurts! Pr-professor, what are you doing?”

“I’m marking you. I’m going to use you however I like until you get your degree. You will come to all of my readings, study hard and then I will use your curvy body and pretty face all night.

“Sounds good?”

“People will see the mark, they’ll ask questions!”

“Oh please, as if a girl like you doesn’t get laid and likes it rough. Now stop complaining, the bite suits you.”

“B-but I—oh my God! Hm, fuck!”

“Moan, Lia. I’m tired of hearing your complaints.”

“S-so—ahhh—sorry!”

“Pull the top of your dress down. I want it wrapped around your slutty little waist while I wrap my fingers around your smooth and tiny throat.

“Your tits bouncing while you ride the vibrator… it’s kinda cute. Now drool on them. Make them as wet as your thighs.”

“Professor, ugh.”

“Only moans. Scream when you’re about to—”

“Hm, ahh! Ahh, fu-fuck!”

“You’re such a whore, fuck, cumming like a waterfall down those thighs.”

“Pro-professor~ I can’t stop!

“Wha— wait, oh my God! You look so big!”

“Your thighs are so soft, even softer than they look. I’ll use them like the rest of your body, all the fucking time, fuck!”

“I-It’s huge~”

“Look as it leaves your fat fucking thighs. Imagine me splitting you open with it, hitting all your sensitive spots again and again, while I pull your hair.”

“P-pull it now, please.”

“What?”

“Pull my hair, Professor, please!

“Ah, ahhh!”

“Your hips are already… w-working in tandem with mine. Your entire body was made for milking me.”

“You have to try my mouth at some point.”

“And your ass.”

“M-m-my ass?!”

“Lia, I will use every inch of your body. You will have cum everywhere, your skin will shimmer white, even your insides will be white—and I’ll start with those round trunks.”

“Oh Lord, Professor! It-it’s so warm, ah! So much cream, I—”

“I could fuck those thighs again and again, they are as perfect as a pussy.

“Get on your knees.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Clean my cock.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Be my personal slut.”

“Yes~ Professor~”

[h3yl4dies]

"𝐎𝐡? 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭"

Warnings ⚠ : cussing! & ALL CHARACTERS ARE 16+ (probably old enough to date idk)

Pairing : Tsukishima Kei x f!reader

Type : Summary Writing

Summary : tsukishima invited his volleyball teammates to his home to hangout and eat suppers together at night, what they didn't know is that.. Tsukishima was dating you and they just figured it out NOW

"Baby my friends are coming over soon, you okay with that? " Tsukishima said politely as you turned your head to him, "oh sure! Is it your volleyball friends? " you asked curiously as he turned on his phone to check the messages "yeah" he said.

"Oh alright, I don't mind them having them around lmao" you said as you were doing your homework "oh they are here" Tsukishima said as he walked out of the door, you were 𝘵𝘰𝘰 curious to know his volleyball teammates so you followed.

Opening the door was tsukishima's job, the second his hand opened the door, Tanaka and Nishinoya bust inside with full laughter, "HAH! I TOLD YOU I WAS GONNA BE THE FIRST TO STEP IN TSUKISHIMA'S HOME!! " Tanaka mockingly said as Nishinoya denied.

"NO YOU LIAR! I WAS THE FIRST! " Nishinoya yelled as he landed a hard smack on tanakas back, "can you guys shut the fuck up? We are here to have a nice supper hangout.." Tsukishima annoyingly said as Daichi shot them a dead glare

"Eh.. Sorry.. " Nishinoya and Tanaka mumbled as Hinata slowly explored the house, "Oi Hinata, don't go explore yet, we need to help prepare dinner right? " Kageyama said as Hinata signed "okay.. ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚"

"What are we eating for tonight? "

"Uhm, just some barbeque I guess? Yamaguchi is preparing them right now at the back. "

"BARBEQUE?!?!?! "

"I WANT SOME TOO! "

"TANAKA! LET'S HAVE A EATING COMPETITION! WINNER GETS TO HUG KIYOKO!! "

"BET!! "

"TANAKA! NISHINOYA! QUIET DOWN!!!! "

Everyone was happily eating and chewing on the barbeque, you decided to come out and eat some too, "eh? Who's that? " Tanaka said with heart shaped eyes, "she looks so pretty.. I ain't betraying kiyoko though!!!" Nishinoya said with a pout on his face.

"Baby, are there any barbeque left? " you said as everyone was staring at you weirdly, 𝘰𝘬.. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮? But oh.. People weren't ready to hear the 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴.

"Oh, yes we do. Have some here" Tsukishima kindly said as he placed some pork and beef on your plastic plate, "thanks baby! " you said as everyone silently observed, until when tsukishima turned his head to see everyone creepily staring at his soul..

"W-what the actual fuck? Why are you guys creepily staring at me like that?.. " tsukishima said as he became freaked out. "W-WHO WAS AND WHY WERE THEY CALLING YOU B-BABY?!?! " Tanaka suddenly jumped back. "Y-yeah.. WHO WAS THAT?!?!?! " nishinoya butted in, causing more noise than ever.

Tsukishima signed as Yamaguchi slowly giggled, "𝙤𝙝? 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙩." Tsukishima said slowly laughing as everyone's jaw dropped.

They couldn't believe tsukishima.. Pulled a gorgeous delicious girl like 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

Sorry if the last sentence creeped you out LMAOOOO but anyways sorry this was a bit short, I was writing this during eating dinner 😭 anyways bye lovelies!

[hausofneptune]

[the astrology of megan thee stallion] - "tryin' hard to find a flaw, but you still watchin'"

[astro notes no. 001]

hey y'all! i'm finally getting around to doing some astro notes. in this post we'll be going through some signficant aspects/placements in megan's chart. i've noticed a lot of astro content on here centers for and around white cis women, and quite frankly i'm over it. if i see one more gif of megan fox, angelina jolie, or [insert random white woman here] i'm going to lose my damn mind. so here's some seasoning and flavor for the girls!

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

– "body bangin', i ain't have to let the doctor cut me"

taurus ascendant (chart ruler: venus in capricorn)

being a taurus rising, megan’s appearance, and approach to life, may be very venusian in nature. those with prominent taurean energy in their chart are ruled by their senses and tend to be drawn to life's finest luxuries

these are definitely the type of people to indulge in fine dining, travel to exotic countries or big cities, drink the finest wine and champagne, wear high-end fashion etc., they may also prioritize self care and could be the types that keep up with their skincare, always smell good, and keep their hair and nails done at all times (this could also manifest in the opposite way as taurean energy can be “lazy” at times, but we know with meg that this isn’t the case)

physically, they can be on the curvier or more muscular side, and tend to have darker hair, eyes, and skin, i've also noticed taureans tend to have prominent noses and more round/softer features

they prioritize their comfort and stability over everything, and enjoy being surrounded by people that make them feel safe and secure

their homes tend to be their sanctuaries, and they may want their surroundings to be comfy and “aesthetically pleasing” 

meg’s ascendant is also trine her venus (1°04’), which physically adds to her sultry sex appeal, and also gives her that regal, “vintage beauty” look

asc trine ven. can also influence one’s sociability and popularity, despite whatever insecurities they may have, people tend to be able to see the good in these natives, and recognize their humble, loving spirit, they typically make friends and fall in love very easily

on the other hand, asc. trine ven. can also make them a target for vitriol and biased demonization from others who feel “attacked” by their empowerment and strength

moon in leo / mars in leo in the 4H

this can ignite someone with a hot, fiery confidence, these natives typically have a creative outlet they’re passionate about that they can express this energy through, and feel comfortable being the center of attention and enjoy entertaining their friends and family

they can be oblivious at times, and act too quickly on emotions regardless on the impact it will have - it may be more important for them to “get something off their chest” instead of having tact or being strategic

they may be extremely competitive, and refuse to let obstacles to get in their way, they’re extremely determined and rarely do they accept defeat

they can be prone to stubbornness in some cases, and more often than not, can struggle with asking for help, they tend to feel as though they have to fight their battles alone and typically don’t expect others to advocate for them

similar to aries, they tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve when it comes to their feelings, a trait those around them can grow to appreciate and love them for over time

they're usually less likely to get married and instead prioritize their foundation first and foremost, they're extremely dedicated to the security of safety of the home and life they build for themselves

regardless, they’re extremely loyal and generous to their partners, and take great pride not only in their relationships, but in everything they pursue and put out into the world as well

ruler of the ascendant (venus) in the 9H

this can manifest as being called to expand one's horizons, both intellectually and culturally. megan’s identity and life path could potentially center around traveling, experiencing different cultures, and pursuing higher academic learning

this aspect can explain megan's interests in completing college even after becoming famous, and pursuing philanthropic endeavors (i.e. the Pete & Thomas Foundation, badbitcheshavebaddaystoo.com, etc.)

there may also be a strong inclination towards religion or spirituality, and a natural understanding of certain philosophies and recognizing the role that they play within the their lives 

they can have a natural inclination towards being hopeful and optimistic, and may bode well as teachers, mentors, or motivational speakers

with venus’ influence, they may find the most peace and harmony in living abroad and hearing the lived experiences from people of different ethnicities and cultures

this is can also manifest as being attracted to people of foreign cultures, or feeling the most fulfilled in relationships with a partner that they can connect with on a cerebral level, and feel as though their love has a “higher purpose” to serve in their lives

– “breaking down and i had the whole world watching, but the worst part is really who watched me? every night i cried, i almost died and nobody close tried to stop me”

sun square pluto (3°58’) / moon square pluto (1°33’)

these aspects can be indicative of feeling like one always needs to be in control of every situation they’re in, and of those around them

at it's worst, this can manifest as stubbornness or manipulative behavior from the native. they may struggle with constantly feeling on edge, or operating on offense, as they’re inclined to believe everyone is out to get them

these are also aspects that can manifest in extreme cases as parental loss, as the sun represents the father and the moon represents the mother. in megan’s case, her father passed away when she was young, and her mother, Holly, passed away in 2019

moon square pluto can also be indicative of addiction and escapism in some cases, in the context of megan’s life, she found herself dependent on alcohol and partying for a period of time after her mother’s passing

rebirth is not only a constant for these natives, but a necessity, as these periods of metamorphosis, no matter how painful, show them the parts of themselves that they need to let go and evolve beyond. they may encounter death, both literally and metaphorically, more often than the average person, and typically benefit from prioritizing self care in their routines, as well as therapy and counseling

they have the opportunity to channel the intense energy of these aspects into their careers, and typically benefit greatly from doing so, as this grants them an extremely ambitious, competitive nature that sees them into positions of power and authority

– “i ain’t sayin’ i do voodoo but i got the magic, any time they go against me, shit gon’ end up tragic”

jupiter in the 8H

with this aspect, the native may find abundance in inheritance or financially benefit from working with business partners, and overall encounter a great amount of wealth granted to them by other people

this can also indicate someone with an “insatiable” sexual appetite, or a hyperactive libido

they may be drawn to exploring and expanding their understanding of the more “taboo” sides to life, or enjoy exploring the subconscious sides of both themselves and those around them, they would benefit from tapping into their own spirituality and practicing meditation

this can also imply longevity in regards to their life span, and in more extreme cases, can indicate being “saved” from near-death experiences, in the context of megan’s life, she was shot by a man who was belligerent drunk, and luckily only ended up with bullet fragments in her feet

descendant in scorpio / pluto in the 7H

with these placements, these natives may find themselves drawn to people who stimulate them on a subconscious level, and may crave a deeper, more spiritual connection with those around them

this can also manifest as attracting people into their lives that they encounter power struggles with, they may find themselves either behaving possessively or having people behave this way towards them

their relationships may be prone to trust issues and general toxicity (or abuse in extreme cases), they should be wary of partners (and friends) who exhibit controlling, jealous tendencies towards them, and should avoid partaking in this type of behavior themselves 

saturn in pisces in the 11H

while pisces can ease the restrictive nature of saturn, this can also manifest as a general lack of boundaries, and leads to a lifelong lesson of instilling their own boundaries and remaining cognizant and receptive to the boundaries and feelings of those around them

this can also indicate a compassionate, spiritual nature, and it may take time and effort to find practical ways to express their kindness in a way that is rewarding for both them and others

with saturn in pisces placed in the 11H, this can indicate challenges in relation to their inner circle and network. these natives could suffer from trust issues, and are typically desperate for a deep connection to others, all the while feeling isolated and misunderstood more often than not by the people they surround themselves with

we can see this manifest in megan’s life in terms of the company she’s kept over the years, we’ve seen her fall out with long-term friends and be betrayed in extremely traumatic ways, which is clearly indicative of this placement. she recently went through her saturn return, and it does seem like (from the outside looking in) she’s prioritizing her boundaries and recognizing that not everyone is her friend or has her best interest at heart, something that her mother desperately wanted her to understand before she passed away

on the bright side, saturn aspects become an area of expertise for those who eventually internalize the lesson that saturn is instilling in them, in the context of saturn in pisces, this can birth long-term, emotionally fulfilling friendships and relationships with those around them in the long run, these natives can become extremely loyal to their loved ones and eventually find friends that extend the same level of love and trust to them 

as always if anyone has any of the aspects/placements i'd love to hear how it manifests in your own life and personality! feel free to reach out with any questions as well.

[weebsinstash]

Ok but fuck the people who mentioned abo stuff and omega Miguel to me specifically because I'm over here trying to think of-of- of other ideas that have some meat in them and now I'm just thinking about him becoming absolutely baby crazy in the freaky primal way only omegaverse shit can provide

-normal ass Reader meeting ABO people in the Spider Society and you have no idea what the actual hell any of them are talking about half the time but wouldn't it suck if you still felt some sort of effects from them and affected them too. But. Alpha Miguel obviously 🤌 somehow you make him purr however briefly bc he'd probably get embarrassed and be a dork but you just hear that motor kick in and it's like '👀 oh yall ain't HUMAN human? Idk that's kinda scary but... hot too'. Next thing you know you're finding out about Alphas having knots and you're having inappropriate thoughts about your boss. Also, what if scenting isn't just rubbing necks and such, what if it could be done from smaller touches too, so, suddenly you're sitting there "oh was he scenting me when he touched me on the shoulder" and you may or may not remember how people would often be nervous or avoid you on those days, or be polite but servile, one could day non-threatening, no competition

Alpha Miguel hearing you don't want kids like "I can fix them uwu". One day you realize "oh is he like, courting me" and you're confronted with the terrifying mortality of "holy shit does he want to date/have babies, idk if im ready for something that serious 😳" and also just, him having all these biological advantages over you like he eventually figures out how to tell your emotions by your scent and things like that, you hug the wrong person and suddenly he's in a foul mood and "wanting to speak to them" because their scent transferred onto you

-normal Miguel finding out about an Omega Reader and "no, I'm just studying them for science though--" *suddenly has terabytes of notes about you, your biological aspects, info from your home dimension about Omegas, plenty of personally written 'research notes'* he's just utterly obsessed and fascinated. He learns you're just basically a guaranteed baby machine amd suddenly he's astral projecting himself into another reality, man reads a factoid on how Omega typically have 3 or even more babies and he's sitting there thinking about the two of you with four daughters. Maaaaybe one son but, he loves the idea of all girls, he's just baby crazy for a daughter specifically and he's like "but wait, I could have multiple". But papi, four quinces sounds expensive lmao, lucky he's got that CEO money

-But of course, I'm growing especially fonder of female Alpha Reader and Omega Miguel and like. You're both kind of socially awkward and feel 'out of place', and being atrracted to each other is weird because you both lowkey hate yourselves and aren't sure how you two would work out. What does it mean for you to be an Alpha? Isn't he more dominant than you? Should he... act more submsisive towards you, like, you're both so confused and not sure how to act and also kind of being social recluses. One day you have your whole aha moment where you realize it's kind of a perspective thing and suddenly you cant thinking about him holding a chunky little newborn or having a tea party with his daughters and how, oh wouldn't he be so cute with a baby on his hip

Alpha Reader "I want to see him holding my babies and i wanna love n support him" vs Omega Miguel "I want to cuddle and kiss her while she carries our babies and protect her and love her 🥰" like fjfjff the nuance is THERE

-then there's the juicy idea or "alpha Miguel from a dimension without really any Omegas meeting an Omega Reader for the first time" and he's just kind of head over heels for you (and so is everyone else really). He starts realizing how powerful your "abilities" are when one day you're called into his office to see him throwing things around and shouting about "another hole in the multiverse" and Peter B is like silently begging for you to try and calm him down and you just. Panic and hug him! And you're hugging him and he can get a whiff of your scent and you hit him with the boo boo eyes "It'll be ok, please don't be so stressed 🥺 I'm sure we can figure something out. You're strong, you'll get through this"

Peter B and Jess just like exchanging knowing glances as you get him to settle into a chair and he's still grumbling and irritated but like significantly calmer now and you're just rubbing his shoulders and offering to get him a coffee and giving him a little pep talk amd being very, you know, gentle and nurturing :) totally disarms him and calms him right down, he goes from a red faced screaming mess to purring in a chair as you force idle chit chat about "are you hungry? When did you eat last? Or sleep?" And suddenly he's imagining being at the breakfast table with you and the pups he can easily see you two having together and from then on, Peter B knows to keep you nearby at all times to help calm the big bad Alpha down next time he's about to get an ulcer from stress

[chronically-ghosted]

there ain't enough room in this Pontiac for the two of us

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

summary:  1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. (A Javier Peña-shaped rift on this iconic fic)

tags/warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon elements, hand jobs (f receiving), no use y/n, javi being sexually frustrating as hell, time period compliant sexism (not from Javi)

a/n: please go read the original fic. Her’s is far superior to mine and this is but a shameful hollow echo.

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Bogota

11:23PM

Back before you willingly and eagerly joined the special task force between several unruly government organizations created with sole and express purpose to hunt down and catch the cartel king Pablo Escobar – before you applied to the DEA on the highest recommendation of your law professor, your criminal psychology professor, and the dean of admission, all whom believed your talents, (despite the unfortunate accident that you were a woman) would have a deep and profound impact on catching those responsible for the deaths of thousands worldwide –  hell, even before you applied to Stanford and you spent your free time oscillating between color guard, JROTC, and retaking your practice SATs and ACTs until you got nearly a perfect score so that the realization that you didn’t have one single friend in the world to distract you from your single-minded almost obsessive focus to prove yourself, despite all your faults – 

Before all of that –

If someone had discreetly taken you by the arm, gently sat you down, and told you what a perfect and deluded idiot you would make of yourself on a seven hour stake out on a dark, rainy night in the capital of Colombia, well, you probably would have laughed them out the door.

You aren’t one really predisposed to bouts of uncontrollable, side-splitting, “I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid to take a breath out of fear of the noise that’s going to come out of my nose” laughter, but if someone allowed you to take a good, long, healthy look at one of your more unhealthy habits – that, of course, being your almost toxic levels of competitive behavior – you might have been prone to at least one giggle.

The thing was, you really didn’t lose. Ever. You didn’t back then and you don’t now and your tenacious, unbreakable will made you not only a formidable and dogged DEA agent, but it also (and perhaps more importantly) made you a social, professional, and absolutely mental equal to men like Javier fucking Peña. 

Javier Peña, whom women would literally melt into a puddle around, whom men would clamor over themselves just to get a drink with. He’s just so fucking cool, you overheard one of the office interns mutter to another, just look at him. That was also the day you spilled coffee down your entire blouse because you squeezed your styrofoam coffee cup too hard, but that was an entirely unrelated matter. 

Whatever sway Peña seemed to inflict over the panties of every woman in the building, you resolutely stayed immune. When you first joined, it had been easy to avoid him. So much so, you were completely flummoxed when the man with the name you’d heard whispered in the hallways, finally made his way over to your side of the building for a meeting with your boss. He walked in with a badly-fitted suit, bags under his eyes, the reeking stench of day-old cigarettes, but by the reactions of the phone girls, you’d thought Elvis himself had just emerged from his coffin and began performing “Hound Dog” topless in bedazzled pants. 

This? This is “The Guy”? The guy that women on your floor would spend their entire lunch breaks in the bathroom comparing stories over – “yes, Kathy, I heard his dick really is that huge!” “Yes, Shannon swears he made come for hours just with his tongue!”

Him? 

Really?

Was it just slim pickings between married men and wheezing senators? 

Never meet your heroes, I guess.

That was back in the late 80s. Back before the bombings and the kidnappings and the mutilated bodies of journalists.

Things had changed. Significantly. 

Once things had gotten – let’s just say, dire – the agency started moving around teams, prioritizing certain missions over others. Which meant not only were you taken off a case you had just spent the better part of a year and a half building, but you were reassigned to a new team. Co-led by the one and only Javier. Fucking. Peña. 

Now, Javier didn’t like the rain, especially not after a seven hour stake out. You knew this because every time it rained, he stormed into the pen, snorting like an enraged bull, his hair wet and his shoulders damp. Why the man couldn’t just simply go out and pick up an umbrella, you didn’t feel the need to ask. But it set your teeth on edge that a grown adult would be so annoyed by something that had such a simple solution. More than once you thought about hurling your own umbrella like a javelin at him, but your fighting matches had become legendary around the office and you refused to be provoked again by Javier’s own arrogance. 

But that’s what started all of this, right? 

You, with your white-hot competitive streak, and him, with his over-inflated ego, clashed again and again – until finally about the one thing both brought you a sense of pride: your sex lives. 

Annoyingly, this was proving more difficult than you anticipated. 

Thumbing the rim of your third lukewarm coffee of the night, you sigh, long and loud, not entirely regretful of the choices that led you here, but simply rather irked that someone had come along and finally proved to be a real challenge.

“Shut it.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Javier, who had been sitting next to you for the better part of the past seven hours, his long legs tucked up around the bulky wheel of the black Pontiac Firefly the agency had rented for this mission, continues to scowl through the dark and the rain at the spot where you had tracked one of Pablo’s higher ranking enforcers. A gambling den on the first floor, and a brothel in the basement, most men you tailed here spent only a few hours betting and fucking, before wandering back home, probably a little drunk and significantly less horny. But this guy – fuck – did he have the stamina of an Olympic athlete?

What had begun as a quick follow up to some intel your team received earlier in the week had turned into one of the longest and most unbearable nights of your life. 

“I said, shut it.” 

Your mouth drops open. “I am literally just breathing, Javier.” 

“Yeah and you’re doing it too loud.” He takes a sip from the coffee between his legs then resumes his hunched, crossed arm position. “It’s annoying.”

Huffing, you sink lower in your seat, as much as the surveillance equipment and evidence boxes around your legs would allow. 

“This is so stupid,” you grumble. 

“This is basic DEA work, sweetheart. If you can’t cut it, I’m sure I can find someone – literally anyone – else to take your spot. Sarah’s always been eager to spend some extra time alone with me. Or what about Mac? You two get along right? Who am I kidding? You get along with e-e-everyone–,” 

It is infuriating he knows exactly where to poke and prod to supercharge your competitiveness as well as your jealousy.

“I’m not talking about the sting, Javier! I’m talking about your need to always be in control. I’m talking about how, just because you can’t get your fucking rocks off, you’ve been sniping at everyone in the building.” You scowl and lean as far away from him as you can in the cramped hatchback. “Making everyone’s lives hell because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in a month.” 

“Oh, sure, I’m the only one being a fucking nuisance in the office,” he sneers, scratching at his forehead with his thumbnail. “After your little meltdown at the copier machine, I think Mark from accounting would rather fist-fight God than have to ask you for a stapler again.” 

You snatch up the used napkins in the cupholder between you and shred it to pieces. You chuck the little bits at him as you snap back,

“The. Stapler. Was. Right. There! He. Was. Being. Stupid!” 

“Stop it! You’re going to get it in my coffee!” 

With a snarl, you hurl the mangled rest of the napkin at him and he swats it out of the air. It rolls over the dashboard, fluttering in the AC that was doing absolutely nothing to combat the sticky humidity. 

He did this to you. He always did this to you. Made you feel like a silly child, an overly emotional brat, for pointing out things he did time and time again. Why was he allowed to get away with it and you weren’t?

In the temporary silence, the rain patters loudly on the roof of the car. Headlights emerge from the gloom and disappear as the few unlucky caught out in this deluge run from awning to awning with magazines, newspapers, or umbrellas tucked over their heads. It had been raining for hours and it seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. 

You aren’t sure which irritates you more: the humidity or the stickiness gathering on the crotch of your panties.

It had been there for days, constant, a reminder, no matter how often you changed them out for some temporary escape. Your thighs tightened as close as they could, but a large storage box split your legs apart. 

“You know,” Javier begins softly, almost contrite, gentle in a way you’d never heard before. He's pinching the edge of his coffee cup with his fingers, resolutely not looking at you. “If this bothers you so much, you can just quit. Call it off. No hard feelings.” 

You snort. He really is the most ridiculous man alive. 

“Yeah? You’d get the satisfaction of finally coming, after being hard for at least – what, a month, month and a half? – and half my next paycheck? I don’t think so.” You adjust in your seat, your left hip starting to ache from the position you’ve been maintaining for seven hours. “Well, the money’s one thing. But I think I’d rather be physically shot than have to listen to you parade around the office, gleefully spilling secrets about me as your latest conquest, bragging to all your little buddies around the water cooler how you finally bested that bitch in the bullpen. At that point, I’d rather we just actually fuck. At least that way I can finally understand what the fuck has the secretaries all in a goddamn hissy fit over.” 

After nearly a third of the day spent next to you, he finally tears his gaze away from the target and looks at you. His dark eyebrows drawn down, plush lips frowning, he’s unnervingly serious. You wonder if you actually managed to make him genuinely angry.

“I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost. And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.” Let me? Now that’s a turn of phrase you definitely won’t spend hours thinking about. His frown deepens as he glances down to his coffee cup. “People – women – like to talk, but I never say anything, to anyone. I don’t encourage it, but it feels like I’m the one being checked off a list. Like I’m a space on a fucking bingo card. It’s rude.”

Gobsmacked into silence, you watch as he cranks down the window for just enough space to chuck his (and yours) empty coffee cups out onto the wet road beside the car. You let him tug it out of from between your legs without a single line of snark.

Your brain finally comes back online when the window squeaks back into place. 

Hang on a second – did you really just feel bad for the office casanova? That little shit manipulated you into actually feeling sorry for the dozens of women he willingly brings home then turns out like used toilet paper. You can feel that decades old hate and disgust crack open and boil in your stomach.

“Well, hey, Javi, here’s an idea. Just stop fucking the women you work with. If it bothers you so much, then stop fucking women entirely!”

“I did! I have done that and I am!” He gestures wildly with his hands, palms out as if in supplication. “Everyone in the office – including Noonan, I’m pretty sure – knows about this stupid fucking bet and for once, it’s been great to have an excuse to not have to hold up my expectation of being a great lay!” 

You will not allow yourself the time to fully process the idea that not only is Javier Peña grateful to not have to fuck a skirt, but it’s you he’s doing it for, so you snarl back, as you always do.

“Then what? What’s got you so fucking wound up, if your poor dick needs a break from getting sucked?”

With a groan that starts somewhere in his lower ribcage, he falls forward into the steering wheel, his forehead on the rim. 

“I’m not saying that, alright? It’s actually been nice to have my bed to myself for a bit. But Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.” 

Don’t. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the way he says it. Like it’s holy.

The warmth of the humidity in the car ratchets up as your heart starts to race, your palms sweat. You wonder vaguely if there’s condensation on the inside of the windows. He shouldn’t be allowed to get you so wet by just saying the word. You swallow, clawing back that familiar anger until you feel in control again. 

“So then go get it.” You wave your hand around the dark streets of Bogota. “Just go out there and end this thing once and for all. God knows I’m sick and tired of having to listen to you roll around, grunting and huffing, with a hard-on so big I can almost hear it.”

“What are you so mad at me for?” He snaps up, a much more palatable rage in his eyes. “All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!”

“You’re the one who demanded you move into my apartment for the entire duration of this hell! You’re the one who went out and bought two twin beds like a fucking maniac and made me take out my bed to put in your little torture devices to make sure neither of us cheated off the clock!” 

“And you agreed to it! I’m not the only insane one here! Sometimes I think you do it on purpose – kicking and fighting with the sheets, moaning in your sleep, rubbing yourself up on the mattress. Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.” 

You scoff, but now slightly uneasy. You’ve been moaning in your sleep? Fuck. Taking down your overbearing and egotistical coworker a few pegs was one thing. Becoming roommates with him was something else entirely. About two weeks in, he had come out of the bedroom without his shirt on – he’s been doing that more and more lately – and you had to sit in the bathroom with your hands clamped around the toilet seat for ten minutes straight to keep from finger-fucking yourself on the living room coffee table. 

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t want to install cameras in the shower just to make sure I’m not jacking off in secret. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there, Javi. You touch yourself once and I win, Javi. Stop looking at my ass when I’m wearing less clothes than a Victoria Secret model, Javi.” 

“It’s summer in Bogota, you jackass,” you snipe, particularly ruffled by his high-pitched affectation of you. It stings more than it should because it sounds exactly like the shrill harpy all your male coworkers make you out to be. “What do you want me to wear?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, something terrifying like a smirk crawling across his perfect mouth and you feel the safety of annoyance crumble out from under you. He really is so fucking pretty.

“A puffy snowsuit would be lovely, actually. Arms, legs, all wrapped up. Cover your gorgeous hair in a hat too, if we’re at it. But if I knew you’d wear what I bought you, all you had to do was say so. Women always say I have excellent taste.”

You sigh, again, irritated and desperate to relieve that fist of tension in your shoulders, that gently knotting warmth between your legs. You wonder how much rubbing your crotch with the seam of your jeans you could get away with before he’d say something. 

No, fuck, shit – focus. You’ve got to get a grip. This is just like those long night study sessions at the academy. All you had to do was buckle down and get serious about this. Sleep deprivation and curtailing your basic instincts didn’t scare you. You had been outlasting men like Javier your entire life and you weren’t about to get weak-kneed now. 

And then something occurs to you that you hadn’t really considered before.

You had been so caught up in your own denial, in fighting your own need to hump your pillow even for a bit of relief – you hadn’t stopped to think what this might be doing to him.

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy. 

Here's a crack in his resolve and you had seen it. Just for a minute. But it's there. You didn’t have to win so much as to make him lose.

Javier Peña. Nowhere to go and having nothing to fuck made him a very dangerous man. One you could easily exploit. However, and as much as it physically pained you to admit, Javier was smart. Blind-sided by his own horniness, or not, if he caught wind of you purposefully stacking the odds against him, there was no telling what he’d do in retaliation. 

For a moment, your sex-deprived brain lounges in the idea of the many forms his retaliation might take. 

No – Focus. You lick your lips, wrenching your gaze to the ceiling of the car. You had to be very careful about this. 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Go at it from the side. Around back while his attention is focused elsewhere. This was fucking guerilla warfare tactics. Placate him with submission. “I didn’t realize my outfits were bothering you. It’s just . . . it’s been so hot lately. I feel like I wake up, drenched wet in sweat, and it’s just too much still. And then, with this bet, sometimes I wake up and between my legs, I’m so –,”

A fist slams against the inside of the window so hard and so loud it makes you jump. His shoulders hunched, the fist in his lap tight and white-knuckled, he doesn’t even fully open his mouth when he snarls, “Do not . . . under any circumstances . . . finish that fucking sentence.” 

He’s breathing heavily, breath skipping between his ribs, and you know you’ve got your opening. Your bottom lip drawn in between your teeth, you’re as much transfixed by his control visibly slipping as you are secretly, darkly thrilled to hear him make those noises. He breathes for a few more times, eyes closed. The sound of rain makes another appearance.

His hands come up to wrap around the steering wheel, as if he were picturing something else flexing beneath his palms. 

“I know what you’re doing, or what you think you’re doing. But it’s not going to work. It’s just going to make me mad and I am not above hauling you over my lap and spanking you for being such a tease.” 

You aren’t sure what shorts out your brain first: the fact he caught on so quickly, or the mental image he’s painting – and how much you fucking love it. God, when did it get so hot in here? You can feel sweat pooling along the ridge of your spine, under the cups of your bra. As though reading your mind, he shucks off his notorious brown jacket and hurls it into the back seat. Your toes curl in your boots. He’s wearing that white linen shirt that expertly shows off the cut of his biceps, his forearms and is more appropriate for a beach trip in Hawaii than the mean streets of Bogota. In his movement, his infamous sunglasses clatter against his stomach – if he just buttoned his collar all the way up like any man with an ounce of decency, they wouldn’t get in the way as much. You want to tell him that, correct him yet again, but now you can see the sweat shine in his clavicle, skin slightly pink and feverish over the hollow of his throat. You had no idea you affected him this much.

“You’re right. This is ridiculous.” He huffs, tossing back his glasses too before flopping back against the seat. “This can’t be healthy, at least. Edging ourselves for weeks at a time. I keep seeing tits in the clouds.”

“So then end it already.” You don’t mean to sound breathless – it’s the opposite of what you want – but your heart rate still hasn’t settled over the idea of Javier spanking you till your ass is red. He’s so much bigger than you, broader. He’d do it rough, if you asked, you know he would. You really hate to sound like you’re begging, but maybe you are. His eyes snap open wide at your near whimper. “Javi, please. We’re not going anywhere. He’s been in there for hours and he’s not coming out any time soon. Just unbutton your pants – I can just watch you – drop your hand in your underwear and –,”

A hand that can cup you nearly from ear to ear flies across the console and claps over your mouth. Something’s changed about him. You can see it in his eyes. At this point in your partnership, you had become fairly good at identifying his emotions, given there were only a handful he ever cycled through: tired, irritated, bored, furious, frustrated, disappointed. But this . . . this is different. His shoulders still face forward, arm reached out over the console, but his thick eyebrows arch down, as if he’s considering something. His head is cocked slightly to the side. You have to stop yourself from breathing in a sigh when his tongue wets his bottom lip.

“I’ll willingly lose this godforsaken bet on one condition,” he rasps out. His hand is warm, all consuming, you can barely breathe under it. You train your entire focus into the way his hair flops over his forehead to keep from whining at what his deep voice does to your lower half. Your muscles clench and your neglected pussy drools. Fuckin’ traitor. “And the condition is, that after this is done, after this fucking doomed stakeout is finally over, I drive us home and you let me rail you against our couch. How does that sound?”

You squeak, once. That’s it, but you can already feel that tell-tale hum, that warmth that almost itches, taking root below your stomach. His eyebrows arch in surprise, in victory, that smirk threatening to make an appearance. Your nails dig into the pleather seat – you want to thrash back, to get out from under the weight of his hand, to snark back a litany of responses that are not only mean but belittling – but you don’t. 

You know he can feel you swallow and his eyelids hover halfway as he licks his bottom lip. He shifts, elbow now pressing against the back of the seat, his weight leaning forward, almost pressing down on you. His other hand is dangerously close to your knee. 

“I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and eat that wet little pussy for as long as you want. Lick and suck that attitude right out of your cunt.”

The car is too small, too cramped. Heat is washing over you in waves and the ache between your thighs is burning. With him this close, you can smell his cologne, the cologne that you rib him endlessly for because you’ve watched women inhale it like a pheromone as he passes down the hall. The scent now floods your senses, choking out everything that isn’t him, and your fingers dig up around his wrist, to pry him off you. You can feel sweat trickle down your temple onto his pinkie over your cheek. He watches it with his eyes, hungry and ready to devour. You have to wrestle back some semblance of control, or else your heart is going to beat out of your chest. 

With all the strength left over from keeping yourself from bucking your hips up into the center console, you shove him back across the car. 

“You fucking . . . stay over there,” you croak, gulping down air as if you had been deprived. He sprawls back, arms outstretched across the window ledge and the back of his seat. “Don’t ever fucking t-touch me again. Those things y-you said. I should report you–,” 

“Why?” he chuckles. “You liked it. Thought you were going to eat me there for a minute . . . and I would’ve let you.”

It’s remarkably easy how your white-knuckled, lightning-sparked anticipation for him to do exactly what he said he’d do quickly morphs into a near-blinding rage. He doesn’t get it – he still doesn’t get it – he thinks this all a fucking game, when every minute of every day, your entire self-worth was put on the line.

But this is how you danced with him – right up to the edge, barking, screaming, yelling, then when it got real, or even almost real, you backed down. And he knew it.

“You really deserve someone who knows what they’re doing,” he continues. He folds his arms across his chest, grinning wildly. “Maybe that would teach you to be nice. Is that why you’re so nasty all the time? Someone who cares about you to properly stuff up that sweet little pussy in the way you need it?”

You feel fire crackle up and down your spine, plunging low to lick your insides every time he muses about the state of your cunt, then sky-rocketing back into this rage you’ve built out like walls.

It’s your turn to twist in the seat, to push against the windows as if you could expand and break out from this twisted scrap of metal that kept you chained to him.

“This is not about sex, Javier.” Your teeth ache from grounding out the words. “This is about proving to every single man out there that I deserve to be here. That I’m not just some cock-struck idiot who falls to her knees just because you snap your fingers. I don’t care what you think I need or what you want to do to me. I don’t care because until I come out of this bet the winner, all they’ll ever see is a pair of tits who negs them to do their fucking jobs.”

That wipes the smirk instantly off his face.

His eyes go soft and that might be worse than when he threatened your cunt. 

“You think I don’t respect you.” It wasn’t a question but a surprised, almost hurt, statement. He sits up as best he can while still facing you. You were both irate and appreciative that you didn’t have to put it all into words. Words that would make you, again, feel like an overly emotional wimp. Someone with feelings. “You think I’m doing this – that I’m still doing this – because I want to humiliate you.”

You wait in silence for the pricking in your throat to subside before continuing on. “Is that not why? To bend that bitch as far as she’ll go before she breaks so everyone can see how much of a child she really is?”

His nostrils flare. “That’s the second time you’ve called yourself that tonight and I won’t stand for a third. Do you understand?”

His protectiveness flares so fast you aren’t quite sure what to do with it, so you nod.

“Good.”

Javier turns back around, his knees spread outright around the edge of the steering wheel, and picks the packet of cigarettes from underneath the radio. He wheels down the window again, rain spitting inside the inner ledge, and he lights up for the first time all night. His breath is shaky as he exhales through the crack he made. You can’t stop staring at the shine against his throat. What was rain and what was sweat? The golden lights from the store fronts and shops make the curls around his neck glow. 

“I’m sorry that by fighting with you, I made you feel inferior. If you can believe it, I actually respect the living shit out of you and I . . .” He taps out ash before dropping his gaze to his lap. “That was never my intention, but Christ alive, you drive me crazy.” 

If anyone ever asked, with a gun to your head, what was the one thing that immediately turned you on, you would without question answer with: Javier’s voice. How deep it got when he barked orders. How stern and serious it was when he directed raids and stationed soldiers. How playful it could be when you stopped trying to claw his eyes out. 

He inhales slowly, thoughtfully, before blowing out again, fully turning his shoulders away from you as if something he is ashamed to admit is crawling up his chest into his mouth. He presses back against the seat, his unoccupied fingers tapping on his thigh. 

“I think you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever met,” he confesses quietly. “Which should be the only opinion that matters, actually. I don’t say that to be egotistical – this bet isn’t about them. It’s between you and me, so fuck them. They’re all idiots and you know that. They know you know that and that’s why they want to take you down. Some men can’t stand it when a woman is smarter than them.”

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth. There is a heady mixture of pride, relief, and lust swirling lower and lower. He thought you were one of the best agents he’s ever met. Your lower half tightens at the praise, especially coming from him. “And you? What do you think?”

Javier grins. He flicks the butt end of the cigarette out the window and rolls it all the way up as he says,

“It’s a fucking turn on, is what I think.” His hips adjust towards you, that obnoxious belt buckle gleaming in the low light. Do not look at his crotch. He presses the backs of his two fingers against his mouth as he watches you. “But I’m not going to let you win this bet because you flutter your pretty eyes at me.” 

He knocks his temple against the headrest, gaze shamelessly sweeping up your thighs, your wrists – of course, your tits – your neck and then your lips. You had caught glimpses of this look from him before – when you were reporting to a room full of slobbering men with precision and direction, or when you kneed a suspect into the ground, pinning him down and cuffing him with the other hand or that one time you joined the game of volleyball at the agency picnic in nothing but a sports bra and swim trunks. But now, that unique Javi look that seemed reserved only for you, it barrels down on you in full force – not another agent or superior around the corner to drag his attention away. Without restraint, he let those dirty, nasty little thoughts spring into his mind and you can almost hear the moans you're making in his head. 

The desire that had been reduced to a simmer suddenly flares up in a fever pitch. Between your legs, your cunt aches at the mere hint of attention.

“Javier, don’t,” you warn. You try to back away, try to cut the argument in half like you do in the office by storming away down a hallway or into the bathroom or your car. But you can’t. You’re pinned by proximity under the weight of his stare. You’re not even fighting with him and he’s making you angry. 

Angry? God, leave it to fucking Javier Peña to prove to you that the line between rage and being outrageously turned on was a razor-thin edge. 

“I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he croons. He rounds his shoulders as if trying to lean forward, cover himself with his body. If you couldn’t see the whites of his knuckles around his clasped hands, you would have feared you would have been making this all up. “I’m not touching you, just like you asked.” 

“Thank you, Javi,” you squeak out. “Now, please let's just get back to–,”

“I could, though, if you change your mind.” His eyes follow a very predictable path up the curve of your throat. “I could touch you. Are you going to change your mind?” 

Even now, on the knife edge, even when he has been extraordinarily honest with you, you can’t make yourself say it. Can’t ask for it.

“It’s against the rules.” Because she's a traitor to you, your cunt leaks when you meet his jet black gaze. You feel the sweat on your neck return so fast you shiver. “I will kick you if you come over here again.” 

“You’re so mean to me but, fuck, I love it so much.” He smirks. With mounting horror, you watch as he lifts his hand, the same one that flew over your mouth, up to the lip of the center console. “Here I am pouring my goddamn heart out, and you want to resort to violence.” 

Not so much cautious, but more with the slow, syrupy flow of direct and deliberate intention, he brushes the backs of his fingers against your thigh. You jolt back, a muffed gasp caught between your teeth, but you don’t move to snatch his hand away. 

He watches your face for any hint of resistance. When he doesn’t find any, he continues, casually flowing the pads of his fingers from the top of your knee, all the way up to your hip.

“Do you wanna know what I think, baby?” He purrs. “I think, somewhere along the way, someone came along and really fucked you up. Hurt you beyond comprehension.” His touch is more insistent now, more of his fingers, his palm occasionally. His thumbs sweeps your inner thigh and your cunt clenches down onto nothing and your teeth ache in your head. 

“Javier–,” 

His eyes flutter for a minute at the sound of his name tearing through your mouth. “Fuck, you’re getting me distracted . . . what was I saying? Oh, yeah . . . I think someone fucked you up and like the fucking warrior you are, you built up safeguards to never let that happen again.” His eyebrow arches lazily as he palms your waist. By the sheer grace of God, you had tucked your shirt into your pants today, never wanting to give the men in the bullpen the satisfaction of an accidental flash of skin. But Javier just tuts at the intrusion. His knuckles digging into your skin, he pinches out the edge of your shirt, bit by bit. “Problem is, you kept building until you locked yourself in and now you don’t know how to get out. You don’t know how to ask nicely at all.” 

His broad palm slides uninterrupted under your shirt, smoothing the rough pads of his fingers across your stomach, and then up to the underwire of your bra. That’s enough to jerk you out of this dizzying haze. 

“Javi, you can’t–,” you squeeze your eyes shut, as tight as your cunt, as he threatens to brush his thumb over your teased nipple. “I–I don’t wanna – I don’t wanna lose –,”

“Fuck the bet, sweetheart. You can tell them I lost for all I care. Right now, I just wanna feel you gush between my fingers.” 

He doesn’t even need to touch your tit to yank that first moan out of you, but the breeze of his thumb only elongates the noise. Your own hand claps over your mouth this time, to muffle half of that stifled sound. 

“None of that now,” he purrs, switching the direction of his hand and going lower on your body. “It’s fine when we’re in public, but here, I want you hoarse from screaming my name as loud as you can.” 

“Javi, please–,” 

His hips twitch. Twitch so hard they jerk off the seat, the side of his crotch rubbing the steering wheel. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Juuust like that, baby. Keep saying my name just like that.” 

His fingers don’t slow down as they breach the waistband of your pants. He didn’t even unzip you so his entire warm hand is shoved right up against your coarse, damp hairs. 

“Fuck, is this sweat, baby, or is it from me? Please fucking lie if it's not and tell me it’s for me.” 

The pad of his middle finger skims the top of your lips, terrifyingly close to your clit and you finally react. Your clit throbbing, your fingers clamp down on his wrist and he freezes. But he’s panting, breathing harshly across the seat. 

“Don’t ask me to stop. Not right now. Please don’t –,”

Your hips buck into his palm and your head drops back against the window. You end up pressing him harder against you and you moan. 

“It’s you, Javier, I’m dripping for you.”

“Shit,” he snarls and rubs himself against the steering wheel again, anything to relieve the pressure. His fingers slide around the edges of your puffy, swollen lips, skitters across your pulsating clit, and you nearly orgasm from the direct touch. You jerk back, the denial of your orgasm almost painful, but because your waistband binds him to you, his fingers come with you and you bump into them again. You almost cry out at the intrusion, but his hand is still. 

“Can I touch you– c-can I put them inside you, baby – please?” 

Tight-lipped, you shake your head furiously, muffling nuh uh between your teeth. He hisses darkly.

“This can’t possibly still be about this stupid fucking bet –,”

“I don’t – w-w-wanna lose – I-I-I don’t wanna lose –,” you swallow, voice breaking, and you yank his hand out from your soaking underwear. You can’t bear to look at his fingertips, assuming from the ocean between your thighs, they’ll come out pruny. But the ache doesn’t go away. It lingers, waiting and lurking for the next touch. It’s been denied too many times tonight. Your head spinning, you gasp for breath for the split second he’ll allow. 

“You know, for such a smart woman, you really don’t get what’s best for you.” His other hand finally comes around and grabs your knee, pinning you apart with his broad hand and his other elbow as his fingers dive for the buttons of your pants. You try to shut your legs, but the box at your feet is immovable. “Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.”

“W-w-wait, Javier, that’s not–,”

His gaze pinning you down as much as his weight is, his fingers deftly unzipping your pants, sliding through the opening, and pressing up against your sodden panties. You gasp. It’s relief, painful, throbbing relief, but it comes at the cost of fire licking your spine. 

“But that’s not what you need, is it, pretty baby? That’s only part of it. Touching is one thing, but you need someone inside of you, don't you? Need someone to fuck up into that pretty cunt.” Your pussy swollen, you fight to breathe as much as it to fight off your impending orgasm. “Just say thank you, Javi when we’re done, alright?” 

Unrelenting and deaf to your cries, his fingers strip back your underwear and finally, finally, finally, he sinks two fingers into your hot, pulsating core. His shoulders shudder as you arch back, letting out a wail. Your thighs quake around the box in front of you. 

“‘Is so good. So warm.” He slurs. His hand releases your knee and slides up your hip to palm as much of your ass as he can reach. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He inhales like he wants to haul you over the console into his lap, but that you resolutely cannot allow, because there would be no coming back from that. You can still see the other side of your orgasm, enough to stifle it back down, sequester it. He strokes your inner muscles, in and out, the wet sound obscene – you must be gushing – and he hums. “Listen to that, sweetheart. God, the things I could do with that. Put you over my fucking shoulder, for one.” 

Your release is roaring at you, the razor-edge of pain and pleasure digging into the meat of your pussy, as you fight again to deny what you actually really want. You plant your heels, rolling your hips against his fingers because if you were going to fucking lose, you were going to be the one to make you do it. Not him.

And then unprompted, he retreats his fingers and all but shoves them into his mouth. His hips buck up again and he’s not breathing properly. You shudder at the loss of contact but at least the edges of your vision return. God, you’re not sure how much more you can take. But there is some respite, even for a moment. Javi seems to have momentarily forgotten how close he had come to winning.

Saliva and your thready cum dripping from between his lip, Javier sucks on his fingers as if someone were threatening to cut off his hand. His hips bump lazily, distractedly, against the steering wheel as his other hand white-knuckles his knee. He licks his wrist up to the meaty side of his palm, never one to waste excess. 

“Fuck, fuck, f-f-fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed. The sight has you flushing again. “I’m gonna eat that cunt whole if it’s the last thing I do. Gonna put you in my lap and bounce you on my cock until you beg me to let you –,”

“Come.” You command, sanity finally snapping as you use the same voice to scold rowdy students at the academy or talkative agents in a presentation. It’s forceful, direct, and you are hoping that it throws him off enough to do exactly that. Come, so you win fair and square. Because that means you can finally come too. 

It works.

Or it nearly does. 

Javier’s spine goes rigid, hips still, his soaked fingertips hovering inches from his wet lips. His eyes snap open and oh, shit, you’ve done it now, you’ve really done it now. His once blissed out face contorts into that scowl of primal determination that only comes down for raids. For meetings with sketchy CIs. Moments when lives are at stake. 

“What did you just say to me?” The growl is more gnarled wolf than human. You immediately back up as far as the car will allow, the front of your pants still undone. 

“Javi, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry –,” By his expression, you half-expect him to throw open the door, storm around to your side, yank you to your feet and start fucking you against the car window. Your cunt is throwing a fucking riot at this point. She’s so pissed at you, she’s squeezing so tightly, you think she’ll suck the air right out of you. “I wasn’t thinking – i-i-it just slipped out –,” 

He unbuttons two more of his buttons on his shirt and you think, deliriously, he’s going to take his shirt off, but no, he’s just letting more heat escape. More steam rise from his sweaty back. He seems to grow, fill out, until he takes up the entire front seat of the car. 

“Please, please, don’t make me come, Javi.” You cry, shrinking back as far as you can. You might actually die from this. From him or a lack thereof. Either way, Javier Peña is going to destroy you. 

“I should leave you alone, you know.” He growls. “I should just leave you there to fucking drool into your jeans, smart little cunt knotted up so tight, I could breath on you and make you come. The kind of shit you pulled tonight, you fucking deserve to suffer. But I’m not going to do that and you know why?”

Without warning, his hand snatches around your wrist, yanking you up against the center console. He’s right, you’re so fucking close, the movement rubs you wrong and you squeak again.

Slowly, with superhuman restraint, his nose delicately strokes the underside of your jaw by your ear, then down your neck, as if inhaling the goosebumps that burst out across your skin. You shudder. “J-J-Javi, p-p-please –,” 

His other hand slides back up under your shirt, his fingers slotting in between your ribs, your back as arched as it can go. He feels you breath shakily and he closes his eyes. His next words are so soft, spoken so close to your cheek, you can feel the hairs there vibrate with the frequency of his voice.

“I’m not going to do that because I want you to know exactly what the fuck has the secretaries in a goddamn hissy fit over. I want you to think of me and me only every time you try to open your legs for anyone else. I want you to cry in frustration every time you can’t make yourself come with just your fingers because they’re not mine – they’re nowhere close to mine – and I want you to scream in frustration when I don’t pick up the phone. After tonight, I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.” 

He pauses, as if expecting an answer, but he couldn’t possibly think you are capable of responding, of dredging actual human thought up out of the murk he held you under. His lips drag gently over the arc of your cheek as he leans into your ear. His voice rumbles and you whine, embarrassed, at the sound alone.

“Because that’s what you’ve done to me.” 

No, no, that can’t possibly be right – it’s a trick. It’s a trap. It’s a lie. Javier Peña can’t actually be –

And then, in that same, slow timbre of voice, Javi says,

“I’m gonna finger-fuck you now, okay?”

Any chance of fighting back, of arguing still, is obliterated when his hand shoots back down between your thighs, surges past your underwear, and hooks his fingers up inside you again. This time it’s fast, he’s not waiting for you to gather your sense, he’s going to split you open, here in this fucking Pontiac. 

The force of his thrusts make your spine turn to ooze and you drop forward onto his shoulder. 

Fine. It’s fine. You’ll fucking lose. Who cares about your precious pride?

You don’t realize you’re whimpering in time with his fingers until you try to say his name. He cups the back of your head, reverently, as he spews more filth into your ear. As if the lewd noises he’s evoking from your pussy isn’t enough. 

“I’m going to take care of you, you little sweet cunt. I’m going to take care of you the way no one else has. That’s right, that’s a good little pussy, squealing for me. Hmm, tell me, does she like this?”

His thumb merely brushes your clit, the lone survivor in all of this, and your hips jolt in his hand. He holds you steady against his shoulder. Your fingernails dig into his bicep. 

“Oh, yeah, she does. Of course, she does. I can do that for as long as you like, alright?”

That white heat curls your body inwards, tearing your mouth open, and sending your eyes to the back of your head. “JaviJaviJaviJavi – please –,”

He tsks into your ear. “You keep saying that but you never tell me what you’re begging for.” 

It’s coming. It’s staggering. It eclipses everything and it’s just out of reach. You feel it start to expand and after all this time, it’s actually a fucking relief to give yourself over. To let yourself be rent asunder by something this huge and overwhelming. 

His fingers, the ones not rocketing you towards the biggest orgasm of your life, gently wind up into your hair, sweetly caressing the soft skin behind your earlobe. His voice is quiet, coaxing, kind. His lips almost kiss the ridges of your ear. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll tell you what to say. Say, Javi, I want you to make me come.” 

“Javi, I–,”

There’s an explosion.

No, not like that. He’s not that good.

It’s a literal explosion in the street, with flashes of flames and heat that rattle the car. Alarms go off, your vision goes white – because of a pipe bomb stationed out underneath a car parked outside the part-time gambling den, part-time brothel. Javi’s arm flings out in front of you as the car is rocked from the impact. Flames lick the charred out husk of the front of the building. Only when your ears stop ringing, do you finally hear the screaming. 

And then patter of bullets. 

“Baby, get your gun and stay low!” He roars, as the windshield of the car behind you shatters, the popping of gunfire echoing the distance. He lunges back and grabs his jacket, fumbling for his gun. The panic in his voice shakes you awake and you dig into the glove box for your own handheld. 

It’s a firefight for your lives, in the middle of the rain, in the middle of chaos and smoke. 

It’s time to go to work. 

🤍Part 2

[respectthepetty]

Dangerous Romance is peak comedy

I got 99 problems, but Dangerous Romance ain't one. It feels like a Thai version of Another Gay Movie because it is squeezing in all the tropes yet taking none of them seriously, which is not a problem in my book.

Not a Problem #1 - Nava & Guy making everything into a competition including turning on the faucet. They got that Love Mechanics color-coded lighting treatment, and that's all I care about.

Not a Problem #2 - The Poor Boys treating the Rich Kids like the dogs they are by threatening punishment if they act up and dropping "good boy" casually into the conversation when they do good deeds, then rewarding them. It's puppy play meets praise kink, and I approve of it.

Not a Problem #3 - How Sailom's friends, especially Guy, thought Kanghan was trying to poison them, yet still drank with Nava because if he was going to die, he was going to die the champion.

Not a Problem #4 - Kanghan not knowing how to express what he is feeling when Sailom questions him after the kiss and expecting the kiss to speak for itself. He thought he was speaking Sailom's love language, but Sailom is clearly an "acts of service" type, while Kanghan is a "words of affirmation" guy.

Not a Problem #5 - Characters using the bathroom! Every episode, someone goes to the bathroom or uses it as an excuse to escape a dinner where they cannot make eye contact with the boy who kissed him in the bathroom because the kiss was a C- at best and he doesn't know how to tell him that without making him cry since he has a praise kink, and I appreciate it.

Not a Problem #6 - Kanghan saying that he sucks.

Not a Problem #7 - Kanghan stating he has to keep trying because practice makes perfect.

Not a Problem #8 - The tiny smile Kanghan gave when he realized he could go through the bathroom door instead of the front door to get to Sailom. And no, this is NOT an euphemism.

Not a Problem #9 - How Kanghan stood in the light because he finally figured out his feelings and he wanted to be open and honest about them while Sailom still hid in the dark blue afraid of the way he already loves this unhinged Blue Boy.

Not a Problem #10 - The pinky promise to be queer

Not a Problem #11 - The way Kanghan naturally went into Sugar Daddy mode.

Not a Problem #12 - The dumb looks these two kept giving each other in front of Sailom's friends and God as if no one else existed but each other.

Not a Problem #13 - Sailom singing JLo's 2001 hit "My Love Don't Cost a Thing" only for Auto to bring that Golden Era Madonna Energy and tell Kanghan that "We are living in a material world, and he is a material girl"

Not a Problem #14 - Kanghan liking the way Sailom smells. Kanghan wearing Sailom's clothes. Kanghan responding "no-no" when asked if he is a psycho like a cute little puppy. Kanghan's entire existence, and Sailom's annoyance of how much he loves this guy.

Not a Problem #15 - Kanghan being a WEAKASS! My family will give outsiders hot shit without any warning, just to watch them take a bite and cry, so I get a deep pleasure watching people suffer their way through eating spicy foods to save face. Like, just take the L my man, so everyone can know Sailom is superior to you in every way! Hence why I love Eddie from Kiseki: Dear to Me and Palm from Never Let Me Go. They like it spicy.

Not a Problem #16 - Sailom being horny on main when Kanghan took the blame to save Auto.

Not a Problem #17 - Auto being so tiny compared to the group. Auto getting White Girl Wasted. Auto dancing. Auto refusing to snitch on the group. Auto saying his mom is gonna be soooo upset at him like he is a (queer-coded) killer in the original Scream. Auto saying "NEVER FORGET! NEVER FORGIVE!"

Not a Problem #18 - Sailom being a gold-star gay when that girl was trying to dance with him, only for Kanghan to come in with a steel chair and demand she leave his gay boyfriend alone.

Not a Problem #19 - Sailom finally realizing just how crazy Kanghan is when Kanghan wanted to ballroom dance in the bar as a way of declaring to the whole world that they are in love, then Sailom realizing he is VERY into Kanghan's brand of crazy. *see #16*

Not a Problem #20 - Those handmade cheerleader outfits being so camp (read: fugly), that it brought the queer out of my (hidden) girl couple.

Not a Problem #21 - Sailom screaming "TROY!" again for the Wildcats in the audience who are "all in this together"

Not a Problem #22 - Guy not kink-shaming Sailom for his puppy play relationship with Kanghan since he's probably taking mental notes, so he can tame Nava using similar methods.

Not a Problem #23 - Kanghan hugging Sailom so tightly and THANKING HIM after Sailom said yes to being his boyfriend. See what a good dom can do for a brat through affirmation play? "Good boy" *pat his head*

Not a Problem #24 - Kanghan's (Perth's) smile. Sailom's (Chimon's) wavy hair. The boys cuddling up in Sailom's bed because Kanghan now needs constant positive reinforcement for his good behavior and he likes the way his boyfriend smells. Kink is really classical conditioning. Smell of boyfriend + Hugs from boyfriend = Who's a good boy? Who's the best boy? Who's my very good boy? *rubs his belly*

Not a Problem #25 - Saifah being A WHOLE FUCKING PROBLEM all episode! My wild ass theory lives!

God, I fucking love this show.

[goddessofwaifus]

Honestly, how shinichiro managed to worm his way into my heart still surprises me...

He deserves love too! Nobody is "normal" by any standard so how does such a cute weirdo like him get rejected 20 times?! Whatever if none of the girls who rejected him want him, I guess that means no competition for being his one and only 😏 This one is for my shinichiro lovers!!! He may be a loser but he can get a w while being a lovable dork. If takemichi can get bitches, then it shouldn't be out of the question that the same can apply for Shin!

Premise- You're walking in the usual crowded halls and there you bump into the boy who every girl gossips about at school. He's weird, he doesn't know how to talk to women, he's been rejected 20 times... Wait what? How does that happen?!

The only real thing I should note for this little fic is that you and Wakasa are familiar with one another. The relationship can be familial or platonic. Might give some background in a follow up part if anyone is interested in exploring that aspect in detail. Reader,as usual,is gender neutral for inclusion of all who read.

Lose to win

Shinichiro Sano x Reader

How many dates would you go on with this guy? Honest answer for the shinichiro simps out there, I know you're out there!

Personally, I'd go on however many dates he wants. If none of those girls want him, I'll take him myself 🙄 their loss

Honestly school is shit. Especially when you're the subject of gossip and your friends have better luck with pulling than you. That was the case for Shinichiro Sano. Poor guy had been rejected 20 times, he was about ready to give up and just fully dedicate himself to the gang life with his love for bikes. Walking down the hall with him were his friends Wakasa Imaushi, Takeomi Akashi, and Keizo Arashi (Benkei).

"Honestly Shin, I'm starting to worry about ya bud. You are just woman repellant, I feel so sorry for you."

"Maybe his charisma just doesn't work on girls? You really need to stop letting your intrusive thoughts win, man... Girls avoid you like the plague and I don't need you scarin' off the bad bitch I snagged this week..."

"You'll find someone eventually. Girls are picky. If it doesn't work out, who knows? Maybe datin' ain't it for you. If not, you got us! We can go out and kick some ass! Cheer up man!"

Shinichiro gave a small smile to Benkei 's attempt to lighten the mood. He gave a frown to Waka and Takeomi, feeling the white-haired boy give him a light punch to his arm with a chuckle. Some friends they are, he joked until he felt an impact with his chest that prompted him to stop with his friends pausing as well. You had bumped into him on your way to class and bowed your head, embarrassed for getting in his way.

"Sorry... I wasn't watching where I was going. I didn't mean to bump into you! I'll get out of your way... Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll-"

"No no you're fine! This hallway is pretty crowded so it was inevitable for this to happen."

Shinichiro laughed, rubbing the back of his neck while his friends looked down at you. You were going to move aside and continue your trip to your classroom when Wakasa spoke to you.

"Yo y/n, before we let you go off to class, I got a question for ya. You got a type?"

The question was completely out of left field so it flustered you a bit. What kind of question was that? Wakasa is prone to asking odd questions, sometimes to perform his own personal social experiments among other students or simply for his own personal reasons. Maybe to try and see what kind of person they are? You'll never know, Waka has always been aloof and a bit mysterious in your time of knowing him. You shrug and figure maybe this was a test of his, so you'll bite.

"In partners? I guess it doesn't really matter as long as they're not an absolute dickhead or douchebag just looking for some ass. I can't stand people like that..."

You trailed off as you had glanced up at Shinichiro who looked like he wanted to be swallowed up by the floor beneath him. You slowly put the pieces together as you remembered overhearing girls giggling and laughing or gagging in over exaggerated disgust about some boy named Shinichiro who had supposedly asked them out, but they either blew him off or he somehow screwed up his chance by saying something weird that creeped them out/ turned them off from pursuing anything with semblance to a date. You then glanced over to Wakasa as you were now curious to see where he was going with the question now answered.

"You've probably heard around the hallways, but this guy has had an unlucky streak with the ladies. Unlike everyone else, you're one of the nice ones here on campus. You can probably see where I'm going with this."

You nodded, looking back at the embarrassed delinquent busying his gaze with the floor to avoid looking at his friend who was smirking slightly at the response. A gentle tilt of the chin upwards was almost enough to put the boy into cardiac arrest as he instinctively swallowed against your hold. His charcoal eyes meet your (e/c) ones in hesitation,you can see the anxiety building behind them. He watched your lips as you spoke your next words, his ears at attention.

"Shinichiro Sano. 20 rejections? What did you do to scare them off?"

"Too honest and open."

"Speaks before he thinks."

"Being himself is apparently the worst advice to give him..."

You weren't expecting the three boys to list every fuck up the guy made for every girl he potentially had interest in. You almost felt bad for his string of bad luck, but you figured Waka chose you for the most obvious reason.

You didn't have the best track record with dating either. Although you don't like to admit it, you can sympathize with the guy. Girls, as a joke or genuinely, have warned/told you not to get involved with Shinichiro. Social suicide they said, you'll never be able to eat with the little friends or acquaintances you have due to associating with the weirdo, he's not worth it, and so many other disheartening things they spewed from their mouths.

Who were they to tell you not to give the guy a chance? Half of the girls spouting that crap are either dating his friends, fucking with them, or haven't gone out with the guy and are simply regurgitating what everyone else is saying so they don't get the side-eyed by the ones who started spreading the information around. Some say he's bad in bed, others say he's not loyal, one girl said she couldn't stand the smell of smoke from his cigarettes, another said he's impulsive, and so on. They all had something to say about him, never positive things. You would decide, not them. You had a mind of your own and you could tell a person's intentions based on their behavior.

So what if he's bad in bed? Sex ain't everything in a relationship after all.

Most of the girls couldn't say anything about being unfaithful to their lovers when the hypocrisy in their words couldn't have been any louder.

You honestly couldn't say anything about the cigarette smell, but he should quit while his lungs are still healthy and taking in oxygen as they should. The smell is an easy fix, just spritz cologne lightly and it should overpower the nicotine. Some girls don't mind the smell or taste.

As for the impulsive part, that comes with being a teenager. Hormones play a part as well as other factors. You were a bit impulsive yourself so maybe every now and then you say something wild or out of turn that would have the class eyeing you like hawks and wishing you could vanish right then and there in the moment. Perfectly natural for both men, women, and those in between. Nothing new, nothing bad.

Half of the things they listed weren't heinous or anything worth slandering his name for. If not to put these stupid rumors to rest, then just to satisfy your buzzing questions and learn more about the boy who supposedly repels girls away instead of attracting. You don't know what the fuss is about, he's a good looking guy and from the times you've passed by him and his friends, he's a pretty chill and easygoing person. He's never caused trouble, his grades are decent, has no problem with making friends, and you wouldn't assume he's the type of guy who goes around beating up other students to assert his dominance and show off his strength. Shinichiro Sano seems like your average guy who might,one day, work as a mechanic.

"You're L/n-san, right? Y/N? Y-you don't have to if you don't want to... I wouldn't want to waste your time or bring down your reputation by asking you out. I'd only cause problems for you and the guilt would eat at me..."

"What are you talking about? What reputation? I'm not losing anything from going out with you. If anything, I think I wanna be the first girl to ask you out for a date~ If that's alright with you."

You stopped his train of thought right then and there, a smile he swore took the breath from his lungs and made his heart thump hard enough to nearly trigger a panic in him. You asking him ,out of all the guys at school, on a date? He swears up and down his face has never been so hot and red like a cherry tomato before. The smugness of his best friends couldn't have been so loud and visible to the raven-haired delinquent.

It's a big deal because, while you aren't picky about who you date and go out with, you still have standards and on top of that, major trust issues as a result of relationships that have crashed and burned for many reasons you don't want to think about or remember right now.

"Is it cool if I join you guys for lunch period? For once, I don't wanna eat by myself like I usually do. Maybe I can also get to know the gossip topic himself better so I have a better read of him. I have a fairly good idea of who he is,but I wanna hear it from his mouth for myself."

"Y-yeah! It's perfectly fine for you to hang with us! T-the more the merrier right?"

He can't get any cuter or be more of a dork, you thought to yourself with a soft smile. The boys walked you to class and you breezed through most of the lectures with ease. Before you can even squeeze in a little nap, it's lunchtime and unlucky for you, you completely forgot to make yourself lunch this morning before you took off towards the school grounds. You sighed in disappointment,trudging to the roof as you also didn't have enough money for even a little snack to suffice. All you brought with you on the way up was your sketchbook for doodling while you ate, but maybe today was looking up for you.

"Hey. You made it...Did you forget to make yourself lunch before you went to bed again last night?"

The look on your face gave Wakasa his answer, he chuckled as Shinichiro had been telling Benkei that he was saving the extra bento he made to hopefully give to someone (preferably someone who was a good cook) as a taste tester for his cooking. Ever since his little brother and sister started teasing him about being a bad cook, he had become determined to improve his culinary skills in the kitchen to get his rotten little siblings off his back and prove he was a good cook. The lunch he made tasted fine to him, however a second opinion was needed due to his taste being an "unreliable source" to his siblings and grandfather. No more takeout, he would learn to cook for them. Plus, it makes good practice.

"Alright, what idea kept you up this time? I'm assumin' ya jotted it down in your handy sketchbook so let me have a look and see."

While Benkei was distracted by whatever you had stayed up late to work on instead of getting your precious sleep, Takeomi saw the extra lunch Shinichiro made as a perfect opening for the two of you. He nudged their leader and nodded his head over to you to signal him into seizing the golden opportunity to learn more about you. The messy haired bundle of nerves that was Shinichiro gave a subtle nod to his friend's encouragement, sighing deeply as Wakasa sat on one side of you and Benkei sat by Takeomi. You and Shinichiro were sat in the middle as the five of you sat against the fence walls along the school rooftop, Waka seeming to get the same idea that Takeomi had when he remembered the extra bento his friend was holding onto.

"Uh hey Y/n? So I've gotten into cooking recently on account of wanting to get better at it for my lil siblings and grandpa. S-since you forgot to make lunch for today, I figured maybe you could try the extra one I made and have that if you like it. If it's cool with you, I wanna see what you were working on last night too in exchange. If you're not cool with that, I'll still give you the lunch either way!"

You nodded, a bit nervous about showing him the doodles and pieces you scribbled away in the confines of your sketchbook, but you figured it wouldn't hurt for him to see. You didn't think you were the best artist and admittedly didn't think you were good at cooking to really be a good judge of taste testing. Wakasa would shut down any and all belittling of your skills, be your number one cheerleader, and encourage you to pursue your hobby. If you didn't think you were the best cook, shut up. How dare you call his friend a bad cook? He should have you cook something for him and he'll judge it for himself.

Shinichiro traded you the lunch for your sketchbook under the single condition that he didn't laugh and make fun of what you worked on until 2 in the morning before finally falling asleep upon satisfaction of your finished product. Let it be known that you rarely show anyone your work on account of being laughed at and/or bullied for the subject matter of your pieces. You were an anime fan, you liked to watch anime at night and often imagined scenarios between you and your favorite characters from the media, if inspiration struck (more often than not as you're getting ready to go to bed) you would draw said idea in your sketchbook, erasing and redrawing line after line until it looked exactly like your daydream or was close enough to it.

Watching with held breath as the charcoal eyes of Shin glided across the page where your latest piece from the night before sat. He admired each line you drew, the expressions, poses, no space on the filled canvas was left untouched by the observant eyesight of the gang leader. You were so worried about what he thought about your artwork that you hadn't touched the lunch he gave to you. What did he think of the doodles you made? Was he gonna laugh at you too? So many questions flow into your mind, filling your stomach with dread and slowly regretting handing over your sketches.

"I recognize this character! I've seen the anime before, but I can't remember the name. God... What's it called? Oh! A/n (Anime/name)! It was really good!"

"You've seen that anime? Y-you watch anime? I didn't think you were the type to be into that."

"Well, I remember reading the manga for it and thinking 'what's the anime like?' so I watched it and I got invested! This art is really cool! I like the way you drew them, is this your character in the anime? They look really nice."

You smiled, nodding as Shinichiro didn't need you to tell him what was what. He did notice you hadn't touched the lunch he made yet, he looked through the other pages before he was satisfied with taking in your work and committing it to his memory.

Eventually, you opened the bento and found delicious food inside,wafting to your nostrils and making you salivate from the aroma. Shinichiro watched you drool over what he cooked this morning,pride blooming in his chest at the sense of accomplishment but he needed to know if you would eat it. He needed you to take a bite and give him your thoughts on how it came out. Now you were the one being observed closely with bated breath by Shinichiro as you thanked him for the food, bringing a portion up to your lips taking a bite of what you grabbed. The flavor made you tear up with a smile, chewing thoughtfully to savor the taste in your mouth.

You won't forget the looks on their faces as Wakasa cackled from the range of emotion in his friends in response to what you said about Shinichiro and his food. Shinichiro was redder than a strawberry and trying to cover his face, Benkei nearly spit out his food from how wild your response to the food was, and Takeomi was just as flabbergasted if not in utter disbelief at what came out of your mouth. Once Wakasa could breathe somewhat and finally wipe the laugh tears from his lavender eyes, all the snow haired boy had to say was:

"I told you you weren't the only one who blurts out weird shit on impulse! I tooold you!!!"

You hadn't even realized what you said until you saw Shin turn into a tomato with his coal eyes wide open in shock and other things in the mix. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't flattered by the comment on his cooking. It meant he was improving and his practice was starting to pay off. Did you really love what he cooked that much? If so, he'd make a personal note to try and cook more for you in the future. Maybe he could even taste your cooking one day if the date was still gonna happen and it went well. The date was still on and you'd make sure it was fun for the both of you. This date would be the best one that you and Shinichiro had ever been on.

"Ready to go?"

You gave Shinichiro a nod, looking forward to how this date would pan out. Even if the date didn't go well, you would give him the opportunity to take you on another one to make up for it. The two of you had fun riding around together, watching the world pass by as you were behind him on the bike. He'd check on you every few minutes to make sure you were okay, slow down if he felt you were nervous about the speed he was going, he was very accommodating and that alone made the afternoon all the more enjoyable for you.

Shinichiro took you to the movie theater, you had tickets but wouldn't tell him what movie you were seeing. You wanted it to be a surprise,and you had good seats in the back with a perfect view of the screen as long as no one blocked it in the middle row. You two had all kinds of snacks and the best part about this theater was the security doing their job to ensure the watchers had a good time which meant they made sure everyone turned off their phones or put them on silent. If they didn't, well they would "mysteriously lose signal" on their phones and would be forced to go outside to get better reception. If they brought noisy kids, quiet them down or leave. If you stepped out of the viewing room for any other reason besides going to the bathroom or getting more snacks for the movie, you weren't allowed back inside to avoid disrupting the movie for everyone else.

If the adults who were disregarding the viewing room rules of turning off their phones brought kids, the children would have to leave with the parents or whomever the adult in attendance was. They were serious about their jobs and they too respect the rules of the viewing rooms. You had gotten mildly annoyed because as the movie was getting good, that's when the wailing of upset babies, ringing phones, and loud talking began.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Wakasa happened to be in the watch room with the two of you, acting as the discreet wing man once he spotted you both on the way in. Waka did his part and helped jam the signals of any moviegoers who were on the phone when they shouldn't have been. Many complaints followed by irritated teens and adults alike exited the theater to get better reception to their dropped calls or messages they couldn't send, falling into the trap of being kicked out via signal jammers. If they came with kids, the kids would be escorted to their families to avoid the risk of leaving them unsupervised. It's not like they would be allowed to come back inside once they were out anyway.

With the amount of noise now back at acceptable levels, you could hear the movie and enjoy your large shared bucket of popcorn that you got for the two of you to share. Although you both weren't focused on the movie, moreso on one another as you both softly conversed in the back row while munching on your snacks and sipping your respective drinks. Really, you two were using the time to get better acquainted with one another by learning about your common interests and what lives you two lived. By the time you two noticed the movie was nearly over, you felt kinda bad for not watching it because you didn't know what the movie was about.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Shinichiro admitted he wasn't really focused either. He'd already seen the movie several times so it didn't really matter, but he still had a great time with you and that's all that really mattered at the end of the day. The movie could have been absolute garbage and he'd much rather talk with you than watch it because he really liked you. You'll admit that,on some level, part of you is happy that other girls aren't attracted to Shinichiro and think they're out of his league. Because you aren't too sure you'd have been able to compete otherwise if there had been anyone else that was interested. If it were up to you, you'd keep this handsome,dorky sweetheart of a boy all to yourself and Shinichiro wouldn't mind it. If this is what being loved feels like, then he's all yours and how can he refuse someone as sweet as you if you ever suggested being his one and only lover? He can't and he won't.

I hope I did Shinichiro justice 👉👈 Same with Wakasa and the other boys too, they haven't been animated yet but with how they act in the manga, I assume they're a couple of bros that fuck around and tease their leader about his failing love life. They might shit on him for it but hey, they aren't your friends if they don't at least try to help set you up with someone they think you have a shot with or try to cheer you up if you've been rejected back to back. Bros roast each other but they've got each other's backs when they need it.

[exhaslo]

This will be very niche, but it is something I’d like to see.

Miguel with a more masculine/tomboy-ish s/o.

Them being gym buddies and good-naturedly competitive with each other, or them being on a sorts team together, I’ll leave that up to you. 💚✌️

Of course! I do love a change of pace every now and then too! I can already imagine this playing in my head (despite me stepping into a gym like once)

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"Miguel, you're slowing down on me! Does this mean I'll take the record this time?" You said with a confident grin.

You and Miguel were currently racing to your local gym. The two of you were gym buddies who bonded within the last few months. It started off with a small, friendly competition on the steps machine, then eventually you wanted to know who kept beating your score.

When the two of you finally met, it was like a click. Both of you had been wanting to find a good reason to stay at the gym, and you found it. The two of you kept each other going.

"I was just giving you a head start. Gotta let you relish in a small victory every now and then," Miguel chuckled as he ran by you, ruffling your hair.

"Tch, laugh all you want! I'm going to out run you one of these days!" You said with a huff as Miguel was already a block ahead of you.

By the time you caught up, your face was bright red from exhaustion. Miguel handed you a bottle of water and recommended that the two of you rest a bit before entering the gym. You agreed, but immediately regretted it as many of the local gym girls kept their eyes on Miguel.

"Y'know, maybe you should be...less attractive. I'm sure most of these chicks are here just for you."

"Or they could be here to exercise like you."

"They drool every time you lift your sweat to wipe those godly beads of sweat." You teased, lowering your voice to mimic a man. Miguel just chuckled towards you, "I bet if you make a phone call to your girlfriend those girls will cry and leave the gym."

"I don't have one."

Miguel smiled as he watched you laugh as if he said a joke. He found you so amusing. You had no idea that Miguel was flirting with you. You had no idea that Miguel even liked a tomboy such as yourself. You wiped your tears away,

"That was funny. Ain't no way you're single."

"Why is that such a surprise? You're single too."

"Bruh, look at me. I just got called 'sir' the other day," You told him and stood, "I scare all the men away."

"You haven't scared me away,"

Miguel nudged your side before motioning towards the treadmill. You followed his lead, watching him in awe from behind. How could this man be single. You glanced towards him as the two of you slowly started to walk on the treadmill.

"So," You cleared your throat, "There is this marathon one of my friend's club is hosting. I was wondering if you wanted to join and you know, give me a reason to kick some ass without feeling bad."

"Haha, you want me to win?" Miguel asked as he raised his speed. You just smirked,

"Nah, I want everyone to watch me beat you."

Miguel smiled as he gently punched your arm. You stuck your tongue out towards him as the two of you continued to chat.

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It was the day of the marathon. You had prepped yourself and kept looking around for Miguel. Playing with your number tag, you let out a grumble. What fun was this going to be if Miguel wasn't here as your competition.

"Don't look so disappointed. I haven't won yet," Miguel threw his arm over your shoulders. You snorted, shoving him away,

"You mean when I win!"

Miguel chuckled as he lined up beside you. He kept his eye on you, knowing that sometimes you needed him to help you scale back. You would forget to relax and rest, straining yourself sometimes. Once the race began, Miguel made sure to stay behind you.

"So, how about a bet! When I win, I want you to tell all those girls that you're taken so they can stop hogging the machines!" You laughed. Miguel smirked as he sped up,

"And if I win?"

"Dunno, what do you want?" You asked him. Miguel thought about it,

"How about I tell you when I win."

You scoffed as Miguel sped up a bit. Hurrying, you wanted to make sure that you won this time.

As you grew closer to the end, you felt your vision blur. Your legs started to strain as a small pain shot up your leg. You wanted to stop, but you also wanted to win. You were currently in first place. Right when you went to look back, Miguel appeared and picked you up,

"M-Miguel! Put me down!"

"You need to rest. You never learn to stop." He said with a huff as he crossed the finish line, "Drink some water and don't move."

"Tch, no fair."

Miguel smiled as he ruffled your hair as you drank some water. He kept his eye on you, waiting for your leg to stop spasming. The head of the marathon walked over and congratulated Miguel for winning and for you reaching second place. Miguel bend down to your level, fist bumping your knee,

"I'll do what you wanted." He said. You panted softly,

"But I didn't win."

"But I am taken now," Miguel chuckled at your confused expression, "My prize for winning is a date with you."

You stared at Miguel for a moment before gasping.

"Holy shit you liked me this whole time?!?"

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I hope you enjoyed this short story!