#i just know jo knows how to fuck it up with a yo-yo

[todayisafridaynight]

speaking of knife canes there sooooooooo shouldve been a knife in the cane sawashiro grabs after the sword breaks in his fight =_=

to be fair i think that was just hoshino's regular ol walking cane.. i dont think peepaw was trying to get in any scraps with his brittle bones....

[captainreecejames]

Just Friends || MV1 Oneshot

part of the my ex is a footballer series [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist] [max smau]

pairings max verstappen x reader with some ex!ben chilwell x reader in the smau part, danielle campbell is the faceclaim but reader is not described in this part so imagine however

word count 5.2k

warnings talks about depression, injuries and blood dealing with hands, hospitals and medical stuff, mentions of jos verstappen, cursing, angst and fluff, not proofread so probably shitty writing and mistakes

notes this took longer than I initially imagined because i was stuck on how to get it started, but after a good nights sleep and words of encouragement from @coff33andb00ks I got this puppy started. This fic includes Adrian Newey as the point red bull person so I could avoid horner and max as an almost dog dad because I'm a dog person. It starts in the middle of the 2022 season and goes through the 2023 season. If there is enough interest, I might continue to write these two together because I really enjoyed it and there is more to explore.

songs to listen to while reading you're losing me-taylor swift / so long, london-taylor swift / same mistakes-one direction / lose you to love me-selena gomez

You met Max on accident, according to you. When you talked to your father about it years later, you would learn it was no accident. 

><

He was golfing with Adrian Newey and more coworkers but had forgotten his wallet, so he asked you to drop it off.

Now you knew he worked at Red Bull, so really it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would eventually meet Max Verstappen, but you walked into the country club expecting to meet some older man, not the reigning Formula 1 world champion. 

How'd Max know who to approach? Your father had shown him a picture of you so he would know who to look for. While you were searching the lobby, Max had come up to you, saying your name.

You had plenty of experience meeting famous people, even one’s who knew your name before meeting (perks of dating a football star) but it was still a shock. 

The meeting consisted of shy words and you fumbling around your bag for your father’s wallet and that’s it. No matter how much experience you had with famous athletes, it would still be weird meeting them. You wouldn’t see Max again for a few weeks, he was busy with races and staying in Monaco.

The next time would be at the base, once again you were dropping something off for your dad. This time it was lunch that he just insisted he needed, not whatever was being served in the cafe that day. 

You stood in the lobby, waiting for your father to get out of a meeting, admiring the trophies on display when Max came up to you. 

He will argue in the future that you admiring his trophies made him interested, and that he wasn’t over a little bragging if it got the attention of a pretty girl. That argument ignores the scheming that your father and Adrian had done, from complaining about your lack of interest in the sport to complaining about you needing to get out more. (Your lack of interest in the sport wasn’t true, just that you preferred Ferrari over the local team.)

So with the subliminal messaging from your father, Max was interested in you.

“I thought you didn’t really like the sport,” he said coming to stand at your side. 

You jumped slightly, not expecting anyone to approach you. “Why would you think that?”

“Your father.” You turn to him with a confused face and Max decided to clarify. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t listen to half of what he says.”

“Really? Even when he talks about the chassis?” His words are teasing and you think he’s flirting with you.

“Maybe that you can listen to.” You shrug, turning back to the cabinet. “He’s really just jealous that I prefer Ferrari.” 

Of fucking course, the Italian team. “A fan of Leclerc?” You can hear the bitterness in his voice and it shocks you a little how quickly he changes his mood.

“He’s okay,” you shrug again. Max thinks that your nonchalantness is annoying, why can’t you just admit you find Charles hot and move on.

(Hidden in the stairwell, Adrian and your father are a little nervous. They can tell that this isn’t going as well as hoped.)

“Schumacher has been my favorite, but I think of the current drivers its Vettel.” Now Max realizes that the two of you are standing in front of Sebastian’s 2010 championship trophy, and he feels a little embarrassed he didn’t realize sooner. “I’m a little bitter he didn’t win the championship with Ferrari.”

There are more “chance” meetings, but the conversation flows much easier now. Like the dinner at Adrian Newey’s house and after, when he has to give you a ride back to your new place because your parents don’t want to leave yet. Or the time when it’s suggested that you give him a ride to Luton airport because it’s on your way to London. Or even the holiday party at the end of the year where he has to give you a ride again because you’re tipsy and shouldn’t drive. 

It’s the airport drive when you both realize that you’re being set up by Adrian and your father, which causes a lot of awkwardness between the both of you during your goodbyes.

You go back home a few days later and scold your father for the set up. You don’t need another relationship right now, you tell him. He says he knows, but Max makes you happy in a way he hasn’t seen in years and that makes him happy. Your mother reminds him that you need to be happy without a man first and he says he’ll give up the endeavors to push you on to Max. If Adrian happens to come up with any more ideas that's not his fault, the man is a genius afterall.

The holiday party is more of an accident than anything, your father and mother leave much earlier than you, and so you are stuck with Max to drive you home.

He complained about the hotel he was staying at, so you offer him some time in your apartment to get away from fancy places and he takes you up on it. And now that you're home, it does’t seem like a bad idea to have another drink, just to take the edge off of having Max in your place. 

“Would you like another drink?” you offer while making your own gin and tonic. He stares around at the quiet kitchen, taking in the place that feels very you. “Or perhaps some tea?” He shakes his head no, eyes catching a picture of you hugging Ben. It’s an old picture, from when Leicester City won the league and you’ve only recently dug it out of the box it was sitting in. 

“I thought you were single,” he says, picking up the picture to examine it closer.

“I am,” you answer, turning around from the counter to look at him. You’re about to ask him where the question came from when you see what’s in his hands. “That’s from 2016, when Leicester City won the league.” Max nods like he understands, but he doesn’t.

“Who’s this?” he points to Ben.

“Ben Chilwell.” Maybe if you’re just vague enough, he’ll drop it. He doesn’t.

“Okay,” he draws it out. “Who is he to you?”

Not much of anything anymore, is what you want to say. You settle for something vague again. “A friend.”

“Looks like more than a friend.” Is Max trying to provoke you or something? He can tell you’re growing frustrated with him and it makes him feel guilty. “Sorry, I just, don’t know much about your life before here.”

You sigh, deciding that alcohol probably isn’t the best drink for now. You move to the kettle next to the stove, opting for tea to help calm you down. 

“Ben and I dated until a couple months ago, I moved back home right after we broke up.” He nods along with your story and you continue the tea making process. “Ben and I were childhood sweethearts, together since we were like 14 years old. So that makes,” it takes you a minute to do the math in your head, “12 years together.” You don’t turn to see what Max’s face looks like. A lot of people during your relationship with Ben were in awe of how long you were together, but there were some who thought it was silly and childish. Who stayed with someone they were dating since 14? (Apparently not you.)

You thought it was romantic up until a few months before the break up. Childhood sweethearts, best friends to lovers, boy next door, all tropes you loved in books and you were living it in real life! Until it wasn’t. Until you moved in the middle of a pandemic to a new city with no support system and became depressed. Until Ben needed support you and you couldn’t make yourself see that giving him everything was leaving you with nothing. 

It took an intervention from your parents to see that you were depressed, and an offhand comment about marriage from Ben to see that the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere new.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t want to marry me.”

><

“I’m just not sure I’m want to marry her, yet,” Ben says to the group. There’s a pause before he says yet, like someone made a face and he’s trying to placate them.

What the fuck? you want to ask. You want to scream it, really, because what the fuck does he mean by that? You’ve been together for over ten years, he’s said since Leicester that he only wants you, for the rest of his life. And now... now he doesn’t know? How the fuck do you not know? How can he not know? It makes you angry, the most emotion you’ve felt in probably months and it’s anger at your boyfriend.

Your grip on your glass is tightening, turning your knuckles white with the force and you worry the glass will shatter in your hand.

It does, but you don’t feel it. You don’t hear the glass shattering in your hand or on the floor, don't feel the splash of ice, gin, and tonic on your legs.

What you feel is something akin to clarity, because you’ve been living in a fog for months, probably the two years you’ve been in London and now you know how Ben feels. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, he probably won’t ever want it.

It takes your friend coming over and putting a hand on your shoulder for you to realize that something is physically wrong. That your hand is bleeding from glass cuts and you’re standing in a puddle of water and alcohol and some blood.

Emma says your name a little louder to grab your attention and now people are staring at you, wondering what’s caused the glass to shatter in your hand. She ignores them, pulling you across the room so she can take care of you.

Unfortunately, the glass is too deep and you have to be taken to an emergency room, where the nurses and doctors fuss over your hand. They ask you questions about how it happened, you explain that a glass shattered in your hands. They're suspicion is eased when Emma corroborates your story. It's soon after that you're allowed to go home.

All this time, Ben hasn’t come running into the room desperate to find you, and that reminds you why you’re here in the first place. Because Ben isn’t sure he wants to marry you.

><

“That’s how you got the scars on your hand?” Max is gentle when he takes your hand in his, holding it so delicately like you might break. You nod, but don’t pull away from him. His touch is soft and it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in a while. His hand turns so you can see the own scar on his hand. “I got this one from Jimmy, my cat.” He lets you run a finger over the scratch on the back of his hand. You run your hand over it one more time and Max get’s goosebumps from your touch.

You look up at him from your hands, your eyes roaming his face and seeing how sincere he is. It makes you nervous. 

You pull your hands back, stepping away to grab a mug for your tea and busy your hands with something besides his own.

Max can see you close off on him, but the story isn’t over yet. “What happened after the hospital?”

><

“Are you going to tell me why this happened?” Emma asks finally, walking with you out of the ED. She’s stayed the whole time, occasionally popping out to call your other friends and update them on the situation. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell her, but you know what she’ll say: 'break up with him already, it’s not going anywhere and you’re obviously hurting over this. '

It’s not what you want to hear, you love Ben so much because you’ve always loved him, he’s all you’ve ever known and it used to be so good, so you know it can go back to being good.

It has to. You need it to. 

So you try to laugh it off, say that your grip is much stronger than you thought and that there must have been a hairline fracture in the glass.

But Emma doesn’t buy it. She lets you try to joke your way out of this, lets you laugh uncomfortably as she stares at you, and then pulls you to a halt at the corner. Your uneasy smile falls and you sigh. You know better than to try and hide this from her. 

“Ben said something,” it’s a whisper, like the quieter you say it makes it hurt less. She waits for you to continue, knowing that you’ll explain if she doesn’t push too hard. You take a deep breath, hoping that the air will do something, anything to make it easier to say out loud. “He’s not sure if he wants to marry me.” You hold the pause like he did, adding the yet in a pointed tone. With how much Ben has hurt you, you still want to spare him the criticism. You love him.

Emma immediately goes off, like you know she would, so you tune it out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard in the last year. 

The traffic light turns green, and you begin your walk back to the carpark, looking around the spaces to find your friend's car.

“YN!” another voice shouts. It’s Ben. 

He’s jogging to you across the lot, eyes a little wide like he’s been panicking for a while. “Why didn’t you grab me before leaving?” He means to direct the question to Emma, but he’s looking at you and you feel like he’s blaming you. “I was looking for you across the house until someone finally told me that you left for the emergency department. I was worried sick.” He looks it, you think. He does care. He wouldn’t look like that if he didn’t care. “You weren’t answering your phone, and-“ he cuts himself off as he stares at your hand. “What the hell happened?”

Oh- he doesn’t know. 

“She heard you,” Emma answers. You want to stop her, explain for yourself so you can just go home and sleep.

“What?” Ben asks, confusion across his face for a second before he realizes. You heard him. You heard him. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

That’s his excuse?

“That’s your excuse?” Emma takes the words from of your mouth, but not the anger from your body, you clench your bandaged hand, wincing when it pulls at the stitches. Ben is still looking at you, but you’re unable to read him. “She wasn’t meant to fucking hear that?” Her voice is shrill and it grates on you because of a headache, but you know she means well. “You know what, fuck you Ben Chilwell! Go fucking rot in ditch!” With that she pulls you away from him, rushing the two of you towards her car so she can drive you to her home.

><

“That’s his excuse?” Max’s tone is just like Emma’s on that night and still you want to defend Ben. Your relationship is long over with the footballer, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. 

“I was a mess then,” you tell him, pouring your water into the cup, “I wouldn’t want to marry me either.”

“But he loved you, and you don’t say something like that about someone you love.” Max looks angry next to you, and that scares you even more. Not because of his anger, but because he clearly cares so much and you’re not sure if you deserve it. 

“Listen to me,” Max grabs your arms, pulling you to face him in your small kitchen. “Friends, boyfriends, people who love you-“ (Do his hands squeeze you harder on friends or boyfriends?) “They don’t talk about you like that behind your back. And also they notice when you’re gone, when you’re hurt, when you aren’t’ yourself.”

“But he was also hurting,” there are tears in your eyes from his words because you believe them, but also you still love Ben.

“And so were you, clearly. Yet you could tell something was wrong with him and he couldn’t see it in you?” Max has known you for only a few months, and has spent even less time physically with you, but he sees you and the way your brain works so clearly and that’s really scary. He must see something in your eyes because then he backs off, taking a step away to put distance between your bodies and space to breathe.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t mean to get so intense.” You shake your head, trying to put away the thoughts of his beautiful blue eyes staring into your own. “Just sometimes, I really want people to know that they deserve better.”

“No, it’s okay.” You pull the tea bag out of the water, looking down for the tiny plate to leave it on. “You’re not the first person to say that to me and you probably won’t be the last.” He nods, watching you spoon sugar into the tea. “But thank you for saying that, sometimes," you pause, "sometimes, it’s good to be reminded.”

><

Your friendship grows from there, but it doesn’t evolve into anything romantic. You’re clearly still healing from Ben and no matter how much he thinks about you while he’s in Monaco or off at a race, you need time.

So instead your flat becomes his base when he’s needed at the factory. He can leave clothes and toiletries at your place without worry, he can sneak a nice home cooked meal from you or your parents when he’s there, and he doesn’t have to deal with shitty hotel mattresses. (Even though it’s a Five Star hotel.)

He meets your friends when a girls night overlaps with some sim testing. They really like him and can see that his awkward charm has pulled you in.

You meet Danny Ric at the beginning of the 2023 season, when Red Bull decides to make him their reserve driver, and the two of you are like two peas in a pod. (On the plane back to Monaco Danny asks him when he’s finally going to ask you out.)

(Max shakes his head and tells him that you two are just friends, because that’s what you need. Just friends.)

Max invites you to the Monaco Grand Prix, but you decline, not interested in the media scrutiny that comes with that particular race. You say yes to the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, but after he peaks at the invite list he tells you it’s probably not the best idea. You agree with him when you finally get him to tell you why you're uninvited. The Silverstone Grand Prix is during a girls trip, and with how busy it gets, you both drop the subject for a while. 

When Max clinches his third championship in Qatar you finally decide that you need to go to a race. The next one is in Texas, but it doesn’t work with your schedule so you get the passes for Mexico.

><

The Mexican Grand Prix is the perfect race to join. It’s Checo’s home race, so the focus is on him instead of Max. You stand to the back of the garage, hiding from view on Friday and Saturday. Occasionally you’ll talk with some engineers you’ve met before or share a few minutes with Adrian, but most of the time is in hiding Max’s drivers room with him. 

Most of Sunday is spent talking with the stars in the garage, explaining why you’re here and how you know people. You avoid any interviews with Sky Sports, knowing that somehow they’ll bring up Ben and Chelsea’s current run of form, something that you just can’t deal with. 

So you stay in the back of the garage, celebrate the podium in the back of the crowd and don’t wait up for Max to finish media duties, instead heading back to the hotel. It hurts to hide yourself away, you want to be the first to congratulate him on a win, or comfort him after a loss. But it’s for the best, you try convince yourself. You're just friends.

Max isn’t bitter about the decision at all. Being noticed at this race is a beacon to all fans that you are something to someone, and no matter how much he maybe wants that to be true, you’re just friends. Besides you have dinner with him and a few of the drivers and their own significant others, so really what more could he ask for?

After the season is over he’s back in Milton Keynes to finish up some things before heading out to start his holidays. Most of them will be spent with his family in Belgium or in Monaco, so he is determined to at least spend a day with you before leaving. He wasn’t planning on it being at a dog shelter.

><

“I think I want a dog,” you had told him while in Mexico. You’d spent a year alone in the flat (not counting Max practically moving in when he was needed at HQ) and things were too quiet for you. 

“Okay.” You were relaxing in his driver’s room before Free Practice 2. You’re both on the couch, him with an iPad going over some data and you with your feet up on his lap researching shelters on your phone. The domesticity of it all was frustrating.

“Are you allergic to dogs?” you ask. You know about Jimmy and Sassy back in Monaco, and he really doesn’t seem like dog person at all, but his opinion on this matters to you. His opinion on the most mundane and trivial things now matter to you. He doesn’t pay rent and so he doesn’t get the final say on anything, but if it makes life easier in Milton Keynes, you want to know what he thinks.

“No, I just prefer cats.” You nod, scrolling through the shelter’s website, looking at dogs and trying to decide which one looks like it needs love the most. “Lewis knows a lot about dogs, you can ask him about it.” It’s hard to get the sentence out, because Lewis having a say in something about your life just isn’t right. 

You shake your head no. “Lewis Hamilton doesn’t sleep in my spare bedroom.” It’s the same argument you make every time you suggest changing something in flat, and while it annoys him that you won’t take any money to pay for small stuff, it still makes him smile. 

“What do you think about this one?” you show him a picture of a Jack Russell Terrier, coincidentally named George. 

“If you get him you need to change his name.”

“Why?” You ask in fake offense. “I think he looks very much like a George.” But you move on anyway, terriers are too active for your lifestyle, you wouldn’t be able to give him the love he deserves. 

You keep on scrolling, feet still in his lap, him still looking through his iPad. You gasp suddenly, pushing yourself up and moving your legs so you can sit on them, much closer to Max. “Look!” you shove your screen in his face. “They just rescued a corgi with puppies! I love corgis!” He can see the excitement in your face and knows that he won’t ever say no to you if you look like that again. 

You pull your phone back, reading through the description quickly. “We are keeping Mama and puppies together for a few weeks to ensure health, puppies will be available for adoption in December. Please register interest.” You're pulling out your laptop to send an email when you're done.

Later that night, when you’re trying to sleep you admire how he let you rant about this dog that you’re getting. You love how he always indulges you on topics about your flat; you love that he’ll watch a shitty tv show with you and listen to you rant about the characters. You love that when you ask him questions about racing he answers with so much sincerity and interest that you can’t help but want to know more. You love so much about him that you think you might love him. 

No, you know you love him.

><

That’s how you got here, with Max at a shelter picking up a tiny corgi. Max has been carrying the collar and leash and necessary paperwork as you play with the small dog, contagious laughter falling from your lips.

“Think I should name him Charles, what do you think?” You look up from the ground, eyes so bright and happy. The smile on your face is teasing, but he misses the name because it hits him.

He’s in love with you.

He’s unable to answer you with his sudden realization, because the only words he can think of are “I love you” or long strings of curse words. 

You think he doesn’t like your joke and try to back track right away. “I’m kidding, obviously. I’m not gonna name him Charles.” Still Max only stares. “Is everything okay?” You stand up, still holding the puppy in your hands. “I promise I’m not going to name him Charles, but I’m sorry for the joke.” The puppy barks in your arms, snapping Max out of his trance. “What do you need, little one?” You ask the dog, momentarily forgetting Max’s presence. That’s what he needs, just a few seconds of you not looking at him to get his thoughts in line. He can’t be in love with you, because you don’t need a boyfriend. Just friends. 

Except he can be in love with you. Because you make him smile all the time, because you offered your spare bedroom to him so he didn’t have to deal with a shitty hotel mattress, because you send him pictures of cats you meet on the street, and let him over explain when you have questions about races. You deal with his mood swings when Jos contacts him. (It’s more than just dealing. You comfort and distract and do anything he needs.)

And maybe you do need just a friend still, but he can still love you.

It takes 20 minutes for you to finish up the paperwork for the shelter, which Max spends playing with the dog and he decides maybe he could be a your dog person. 

The ride back to your place is short, your minds replaying the same moment when you asked him what you should name the little puppy sleeping in the back. You feel bad, like you've insulted him; he’s trying to come up with a way to tell you what he’s realized.

Nothing happens that night, and nothing happens when he leaves for Monaco the next morning. 

Texts between the two of you comprise of pictures of Denny the corgi, Jimmy and Sassy the cats, and updates on how people liked their presents. It feels off, but you have no idea how to make it feel right.

On December 30th, you plan to catch your flight to Nice, but your father gets into an accident and you can’t leave your mom to deal with everything on your own. You say sorry to Max repeatedly, tell him to wish everyone there a Happy New Year and focus back on the quiet life with Denny. 

On December 31st, you wake up to the smell of coffee and toast. It’s alarming because no one else is here, so why does it smell like breakfast?

You push open the door cautiously, forgetting for a moment that Denny is there, so he sneaks out the tiny crack. “Denny! No!” you whisper-shout, hurrying after the little guy, all regard for your own safety lost. You find him in the arms of Max, licking his face and wiggling his butt with untamed excitement. “Max?”

“Hi, schatje.” His smile is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he is here. You approach the two slowly, grabbing Denny from his arms to put him down. 

“What are you doing here?” Denny paws at you, reminding you that he needs to go out and do his business. 

Max ignores your question, instead pushing a mug of coffee into your hands. “Take this, I’ll take Denny outside.” He grabs Denny from the floor again, making his way to the front where you have his leash hanging up. “Be right back, schatje.” You can only nod at him, watching the two walk out of the front door.

They’re back in two minutes, enough time for you to put out Denny’s breakfast and drink some of your coffee in peace, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Max is here. The door opens and Denny comes rushing in, Max close behind. He hangs up the leash with his keys, then turns back to you with a smile.

Max takes his own mug, leaning his back against the counter to watch you. “Why are you here?” you ask again. 

“You said you couldn’t come to Monaco for New Year’s, so I thought I’d come here.” He says it so casually it irritates you. “Plus, I can take some work off of you or your mom when dealing with your Dad.”

Oh, he’s being sweet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I want to help someone I love.” He says that so casually it catches you off guard. Thank god you didn’t have anything in your mouth or you would have definitely spit it out.

He smirks over his cup, watching you splutter for an answer to his simple confession. “You… you love me?” He nods then puts his mug down. A few steps over to you and he grabs the one in your hands, putting that down next to his own. With his other hand he moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You want to ask what he’s doing, try to stop this before it can even start, but Max is determined. (You’re grateful for that.)

There’s almost no space left between the two of you, just enough really for him to be able to look at your face while he asks if this is okay. A gulp, a breath, and a nod later he’s dipping his head down to yours, closing the distance, and kissing you. 

Your eyes close instantly. Your hands travel to their own accord, reaching up to lock around his neck and keep him close. Your ears ring for some odd reason and your nose can only smell coffee. You can taste red bull on his lips and you wonder how long he's been up.

The kiss is soft and slow and over before you really have a chance to appreciate it.

You open your eyes to see him, his lips spread in a wide smile that has you blushing. “Been waiting to do that for a while.” That has you blush even deeper, but he doesn’t let you dip your head to hide it. “Seriously, schatje. I love you.”

“I love you too.” It’s a whisper, but he doesn’t miss it with how close you are. But even if he had missed it, you’ll say it so many more times in the future that people get sick of it.

[babyangelsky]

BL Boys I Wanted Carnally in 2024 💖✨

Welcome to Babyangelsky's 2024 Wrap Up! To commemorate my second year of watching QL dramas, and my first year of actually talking on my blog, I've compiled a series of lists to celebrate all the QL things I loved this year!

Please feel free to take my categories and make lists of your own and tag me in them if you do!

💜 All the lists can be found here! 💜

Remember this game? I'm bringing it back!

MERRY CHRISTMAS LET'S LOOK AT BEAUTIFUL MEN

♡ Fort Thitipong as Mahasamut (Love Sea)

I wrote a whole post about how badly I wanted to eat this man with a spoon and how stupidly fucking attractive he is because I could not keep it to myself. I WANT TO EAT EVERY LAST BEEFY GOLDEN INCH OF HIM AND THEN I WANNA DO IT AGAIN!

♡ Furuya Robin as Takashi (Love is Better the Second Time Around)

I see Hiro. I understand Hiro. If this man made this face at me, I would also go have a really good shower.

♡ Ngern Anupart as Arthit (Fourever You)

THEY MADE HIM A FOOTBALL PLAYER AND COVERED HIM IN TATTOOS I NEED PART 2 LIKE I NEED AIR *SCREAMS INTO A PILLOW*

♡ Great Sapol as Yoryak (Wandee Goodday)

He's my blog header and blog title for a reason. Putting this beautiful giant ass man in bunny ears and a tail was a gift *specifically* for me. A gift for which I am eternally grateful, bless you thank you P'Golf.

♡ Mark Sorntast as Pie (Battle of the Writers)

I would like to once again thank the cameraman for this very slow pan up Mark's body and I would also like to thank whoever decided that Pie should strip for Ozone because they really blessed us all.

♡ Top Piyawat as Namping/Sian (Every You, Every Me)

I want them both in very different ways which, once again, all the credit in the world to Top both for Looking Like That and for having the skill to portray these two characters so differently.

♡ Pond Ponlawit as Hill (Fourever You)

I don't ever not want Pond carnally when he is on my screen. He was also great and attractive as Third in Century of Love but he didn't get enough screen time and also they didn't show him to us like this:

♡ Joong Archen as Fadel (The Heart Killers)

Style's just like me fr because I would absolutely RUIN my life for this man. I would ruin several lives for this man. I'd beg, borrow, and steal for this man.

♡ Frank Thanatsaran as Atom (The Rebound)

Atom is too sweet and too good and too damn fine not to have gotten his happy ending. I would do so right by him. He'd get a happy ending and then some.

♡ Nagumo Shoma as Arashi (Love in the Air Koi)

No one has ever been more perfectly cast in anything ever than this man. Shoma was made to be the Japanese version of Payu. The daddy dom energy just drips off of him. AND THAT SHOT OF HIS BACK? STILL NOT OVER IT.

♡ Big Thanakorn as God (Monster Next Door)

He's just so unfair. The sweetest, greenest flag of a man ever and built like a goddamn tree it's NOT FAIR!

♡ Lin Chia Yo as Johnathan (See Your Love)

Peace and love to Xin Jia he's just a baby gangster trying his best but I would NEVER let Johnathan leave that bed whether I remembered how we got there or not. NEVER.

♡ Sailub Hemmawich as Oab (This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans)

The long pretty eyelashes and the fuck me eyes and that body I just--ONE CHANCE JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE OAB PLEASE

♡ Yin Anan as Jack (Jack & Joker)

HE HAS A NECKLACE OF MOLES AROUND HIS NECK! HE HAS A MOLE JUST BENEATH HIS SHOULDER BLADE! DO YOU GET IT DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

♡ Jaonine Jiraphat as Latte (Knock Knock Boys)

Of course he's on this list. Do you know how many of his gym thirst traps I've posted on this blog since this show aired? I would like to personally and very sincerely thank whoever styled Jaonine in this show.

♡ Max Kornthas as Tai (Two Worlds)

I'd get distracted too if he was looking at me like this while I drew him. Doesn't matter which version of him it was, I would let him do anything to me and if it was the scarface version, I could fix him.

♡ Poom Phuripan as Joe (My Stand-In)

The way I would give Joe anything he wanted just to see that beautiful face smiling up at me. Congrats to Ming for being rich and everything but he could never treat Joe as right as I could. I would babygirlify that man to within an inch of his life just like he deserves.

♡ Honorable Mentions ♡

I am going to break my own rules a little bit because this is my list and I can so I'm going to include:

Kevin Chang as Ever4 (Eternal Butler)

Like I know the show just started and thus doesn't meet my criteria but I can't NOT include our new favorite daddy dom robot butler because...

...reasons. If I do a list like this for next year, best believe he's gonna be on it again.

Nike Nitidon as In (180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us)

This breaks my rules even more but I watched this show for the first time like a week ago and it immediately landed itself on my list of favorite BLs ever because everything about it is like heroin to me and I NEED this man to be in another BL so desperately like you don't understand giVE HIM BACK TO ME.

[grapenamjams]

End Of Shift

Characters: Bouncer! Togame Jo X bartender! Fem. Reader

Genre: NSFW

Summery: you and Jo leave the bar later than usual after your shift due to you cleaning his bruised knuckles. after he took care of some out of line customers. Although you don’t like seeing him get hurt you should Atleast thank him somehow right?

Contains: aged up characters! bruised knuckles and broken noses mention. Car sex, nipple play (fem. Reviving), riding (m. Receiving), using head on clit, fingers in mouth (fem. Receiving) marking, PNV, mutual orgasm, nick names (Baby doll, doll, angel) soft pleasuredom Togame. Let me know if anything else!

A/N: I hope you enjoy this holiday gift from me to you! 💗

💚🐢Start here 💚🐢

“You’re lucky you can still work here after that.” You let out as a slight scold. the back entrance door shutting behind you.

The parking lot is basically empty say for your car in it’s usual space. The night sky turning early morning had not a single cloud in the sky. the crisp air filled your lungs replacing the musty smell that always lingered during your shifts at the bar.

“I’m doing what they’re paying me to do, Angel” Togame responds simply beside you, matching his steps with yours. His eyes looking around your surroundings. Always vigilant for you. Even when you both arrive to your car.

“Pretty sure breaking clients noses is not in your work description” you turn around, leaning against the backseat door. To emphasize your point, you bring up your attached hands. His Red and bruised knuckles intertwined with yours. The ones You helped clean tonight in the breakroom. when he had gotten back from escorting two guys outside. who were making uncomfortable passes at you and a fellow coworker.

Togame’s lazy eyes glance at his held up hand between you two. secretly loving the sight of his bruised fist in your delicate hand. it was a while since he felt the familiar sting.

He squeezes your hand in his before putting them back down. “I escorted them out and they got violent; I simply acted in self defense” broad shoulders, shrugging. His go to explanation when this sort of thing happened. Prompting a narrowed glare from you He always found amusing.

He steps towards you, placing your hand on his shoulder so he is free to rub your waist with both hands. A gleam in his eyes when he looks down at you.

“People should learn some fucking manners before going out, don’t you agree?” A slight edge to his voice which leaves instantly when you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

Getting out a sigh, “Yeah, I can’t disagree with that” tilting your head to gaze up at him.

He squeezes your waist at your slight smile you give him. “see? Just makin sure they knew too”

Your hand goes up the nape of his neck; finger twirling around a piece of dark hair. “Well I’m sure they won’t forget that lesson. But still…” words hanging with worry for his safety. Togame lips tilt up slightly at your concern for him. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead hoping to smooth out those furrowed lines.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over me. The bar knows I’m the best they have and spoiler, I’ve been breakin noses for awhile”

You give him a small smile, relaxing a little. The expression making his chest bloom with warmth against the nights chill. “Still gonna worry though. but I guess I should give you a thanks, those guys were creeps”

He smiles into the kiss you give him, his hands pulling you closer. “Meant it when I said I’d take care of you” he says against your mouth.

There’s a flutter in your chest at his words making you kiss him again as a response. Togame lets out a sigh. his mouth capturing yours in slow methodical kisses he does when making out with you. His kisses are as if he is enjoying a meal, tasting every single bite.

He presses you against your car earning him a soft Moan. shooting him with an increasing wave of desire and need. “Doll, if you keep this up how am I supposed to let you go, hm?“ his deep voice against you sending a welcomed shiver down your body.

“What? Got somewhere to be?” Pulling him closer by the back of the neck. not wanting to lose his warmth for even a second.

The dark haired man before you lets out a chuckle that rumbles in his chest. A hand going to caress your cheek, taking your chin. “Fuck no” his simple words hit your mouth right along with his lips. Taking you in with a hungrier need. your body humming against him with increasing arousal.

the unlocking sound of your car doors ring right after behind you. practically pulling Togame into the back seat with you. His mouth chasing yours not wanting to lose your Taste. Once he closes the door His body covers yours, pinning you down against the seats under him. an arm outstretched clutching the armrest of the other side door keeping him from fully crushing you with his large frame. Eager mouths never separating.

His other hand trails up your side, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. The sensation of his fingertips on your skin causes your body to shiver. Making Togame own desire spike at your responsiveness to him. Point further made, when your hands fumble with your shirt taking it off.

The fabric cutting the searing kiss for a moment. Togame takes it as a chance to catch his breath. a grin appearing, the same one that always makes your core throb. The green in his eyes only a sliver of color. His darkened gaze rakes over your body; in just a bra and pleated black skirt. You splayed out over the car seats under him is enough to make him groan.

Reaching out a large hand to go up your soft stomach and over your chest. Relishing in your presence. “you’re so beautiful baby doll” his words roll through you. He leans down once more, kissing your jaw and neck. hot open mouth kisses on your skin.

Maneuvering in the limited space makes it feel like nothing outside of you two exists. Each kiss your skin feels like a secret shared in the dark as he worships you. You arch your back. Removing your bra, needing to feel him everywhere. Togame moans appreciatively at your action. mouth moving down to the new exposed area you provided him access too.

He dosnt miss a beat. His free hand cups your left breast, palming it in his hand. his mouth on your other breast capturing your nipple in his mouth, warm tongue going over the sensitive perked up nub before sucking. Drawing a gasp out of you, pressing your chest further into his eager hand and mouth. His finger and thumb pulling at the nipple before his large hand engulfs your soft flesh once more.

He hums contently against you like he has all the time in the world. Tongue moving over and around the sensitive area. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh of your chest. You thread your fingers into his hair, making him moan. You look down at his face as he gives attention to your right breast now. Eyes closed with an expression as if he’s savoring a plate he’ll never get to tase again.

Your breathing is uneven. “feels so good god-your tongue” you complement giving Togame the incentive to suck harder on your sensitive nipple making you yelp. You knew he could stay on your chest all night just the same between your thighs which have been rubbing together ever since you both got inside your car.

As much as that thought sent a shiver of pleasure through you. You needed him inside you. Whispering his name, telling him just that. His heart stutters, you sound so pretty begging for his cock. Lifting his head from your marked up chest, his glazed over eyes take in your flushed face shooting another wave of desire straight south. He can’t resist, not now, not ever. always wanting to give you everything, whatever you could ever ask of him it’s already yours.

He nodes, removing himself from on top of you. Neither wanting to be apart for to long. You both feverishly remove garments standing in each other’s way. You Taking off your underwear, leaving your skirt on and Togame unbuckling his slacks pushing them down his legs.

He sits on the seat hands grabbing your hips helping you straddle him. “That’s it” he murmurs seeing you infront of him.

Chest rise and fall with anticipation. Your hand reaches down and wraps around him. Lifting yourself slightly you guide his swollen pink head to your entrence coating him with your sweet essence before bringing his glistening head-mixed with both of your slick to your clit, Circling the sensitive area.

Togame keeps his eyes on your face, as you continue to use him like that under your skirt. The sole thought makes him twitch in your hand. Your Eyes closing and biting your lip, he drinks in the expression. One of his hands leaves your hips to cup the back of your neck murmuring your name as a plea. His restraint snipping away with each pass of his head through your folds.

Opening your eyes you understand what he’s asking for because you need it too. If the way your heat was throbbing was any indicator.

Your eyes focus on his seeing the way he clenches his jaw, his hands tightening on your hip and hair when you guide him to your entrance one final time before starting to lower yourself on to him, your heat engulfing his aching cock slowly at first. getting reacquainted with his long size.

His head falls back onto the head rest. At feeling your tight warmth once again. It almost makes him want to shoot his load right then and there “I’ve missed you doll-mmh- always so fucking good”

Grabbing his shoulders you seat yourself to the hilt in one final push. making you both let out surprised gasps. Togame’s eyes flutter closed his handsome face etched in bliss. “Go on, Angel use me.” He breathes out turning into a slight whimper as you begin to do just that. Moving your hips up and down to ride him, his cock filling you up move and full. in the way he only could.

The sounds of skin to skin and Moans fill up the car quickly. Your skirt hiding where you are both connected like a lewd secret. You grip his broad shoulders, a hand connecting with the side of his graceful neck, pieces of dark hair already sticking to the unblemished skin. Which you soon correct. Leaning down to kiss along his jaw. With his head back you gain direct access to his throat and neck. Earning gratifying deep groans from him as you leave your light marks on him. Feeling his hand at the back of you head gripping your hair in reaction.

pulling back when you are satisfied with your work. Togame opens his eyes, heavy lidded watching your Hips never faltering as you go up and down on him. “My favorite sight to see” the man before you breathes out. His hand at the back of your neck gliding to your jaw. Admiring you like the work of art you are. “does my cock feel good, Hm?” Voice deep hitting your core feeling your walls tighten around him making him huff out a laugh. Thumb grazing your bottom lip. “Don’t even gotta say nothin. it’s yours all yours” his voice teetering on a moan as you grind against him.

Without thinking your tounge pokes out to taste the pad of his thumb on your lip. Dark eyes lighting up in amusement, togame moves his hand to slip in a slender digit into your mouth. Feeling you moan around it as you accept it. The rest of his fingers grip your jaw and chin. He swore that nothing is sexier than you riding him. But right now, the image of you sucking on his finger, lips stopping just above his bruised knuckle. Was plain on erotic to him that he can’t help but jut his hips up into you. Grinning at your muffled scream on his hand. feeling him hit that soft spot within you.

Togame groans, adding another to your accepting mouth as you swirl and suck on the long digits. “Greedy mouth doll…you love havin it full don’t you?” His hand on your hip tightens. “Just like your tight cunt”

He thrusts up into again making you whine again around his fingers. Your Hips stuttering for a moment letting him take you. His movements determined in Reaching for that blissful satisfaction he knows is on the other side for both of you.

Leaving you A moaning drooling mess on his bruised hand and a soaked trembling mess on his cock.

Meeting his thrusts once more, Togame curses. Bodies moving in a rhythm you both knew quite well now after a growing number of nights where he showed you time and time again he isnt who everyone thinks he is. Showing you the cracks in his ruthless persona he presents to others.

Only for you. He was all yours. You grind your hips harder into him, walls clamping down on him. “Doll!-“ his moans escaping him. As you regain your pace on him.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, eyes wide and pleading. Loving that you can make him a lost for words. Make him Look at you like your the only reason for his being but at the same time the reason for his undoing. Cupping the back of your head he crashes your mouths together, the kiss hot and desperate. Trying to hold onto his snipping restraint at your unrelenting movement.

His hand leaves your head to cup your Breast, pinching the nipple. Grounding himself to your hot body. “I can’t- fuck I’m Close A-angel” he fumbles for his words against your lips. Teeth grazing.

“Touch me” you pant out.

Not needing to be told twice-pushing the fabric of your skirt to reveal where you are both messily connected. Groaning He glides up both of your essences with his thumb and rubs your clit in quick circles. Hearing you curse as your walls clench around him.

Togame fights to hold his control at that moment. Emerald eyes staying on your face as you both work each other to that wonderful edge. “Making me feel so good. Let me come for you, huh? Fuck please let me…” his voice tilting into a whine he didn’t care to restrain. And with that sweet unguarded sound that is only for you to hear.

You come undone above him. Your heat pulsating around him coaxing him into joining you. Not needing more persuasion to fill you up with his hot realase. With your head falling onto his shoulder, your body trembles with the shocks of your orgasm. He grabs both your hips and rocks you into him. Helping you to come down from Your high. His mouth peppering your skin with kisses wherever he could reach on your neck and shoulder.

His mouth trails up to your jaw guiding your face towards him. Your lips meet his lazily, still trying to regain your breathing. He pulls away with a smile, resting his forehead against yours. “Alright?” You feel the warmth and attentiveness in his deep resounding cadence.

You nod, knowing you feel more than alright at that moment, bliss thrumming through your veins. Togame pushes your hair back behind your ear. “You know, for someone who doesn’t want me to get my hands bloody for her. This was a hell of a thank you for it” his chuckle full of mirth and affection when you give him a unserious glare. Wrapping you up against him once more. Warding off the incoming chill.

Outisde, the tress which rustle against the crisp air and the stars that fill up the night sky are a fogged up blur on the other side of the car window. When you both start to untangle from each other with a contagious laugh shared between the two.

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: mentions of blood, mdni

Chapter Three

"We gotta to take her to the hospital."

"You know we can't do that."

"We can because she's fuckin' dying!"

My body felt like it was floating before my focus settled on a steady throb of pain in my lower stomach.

"Butcher, she's not dying. Her pulse is strong, and since I stitched her up, she hasn't bled whatsoever."

"Then, why the hell ain't she wakin' up?"

"Because she's exhausted. She lost a great amount of blood and wore herself out trying to fucking wrestle you in the van."

Blood.

That word caught my attention. I remembered blood and lots of it as it painted Butcher's knuckles a deep red.

"If she's not up in thirty minutes, I'm takin' her to the emergency room, end of story."

"Butcher, you, and I, and fucking Jesus Christ himself, know that if we step one foot into any medical facility, we will be taken into custody. It's not worth the risk."

"She is. She's worth the risk.

It was quiet for either a few minutes or a few hours. Both timeframes felt the same in my hazy state.

A long sigh broke the spell, followed by more dialogue. "Jo is ok, I promise you. Now, I need to grab the bag of fluids that I left in my room. While I'm gone, don't you dare think about running off with her. I am the only medical professional she needs right now."

Footsteps trailed off as my eyes slowly blinked open to take in my surroundings. I was in the basement of the pawn shop, on the couch that I was still convinced had bed bugs.

"Mornin', sunshine."

The Cockney accent drew my attention, and I looked up at Butcher's tired face. His hazel eyes bored into mine, and memories from earlier flooded my brain.

"Here ya' go," Butcher said, offering me a glass of water.

Upon attempting to sit up and accept the drink, I gasped as my abdomen screamed in pain.

"Woah, there. It's a little soon for you to be up and at 'em, doll. Here, lemme help ya'," Butcher said gently as he laid me back down on the couch and eased a hand under my head, propping it up so I could drink.

Grateful, I eagerly gulped the water, finishing the whole glass in mere seconds and earning a chuckle from Butcher.

"There, ya' go. Down the hatch."

He slowly lowered my head back on my pillow and placed the empty glass on the coffee table behind him before turning back to face me, studying my face in great detail.

"You gave us a right scare there, love."

"At least I know you guys care," I shrugged. "Now, when I do actually drop dead, I'll be expecting a funeral with the works—fireworks, I mean. See if you can get Celine Dion, too. I heard she's available."

I expected another laugh from Billy, but instead, he looked more solemn than ever. His eyes trailed down to where my shirt, a clean one without blood, rode up on my stomach, showing the gauze that MM had wrapped me in.

"I thought I had lost ya'," He mumbled.

It was quiet between us due to the fact that I didn't know how to react to Butcher's surprising words.

"I guess I can relate to the feeling," I finally said as my face hardened. "Since you left me for three months with no goodbye. I thought you were dead."

Butcher bowed his head, "Jo, you have no idea how much I fuckin' regret leaving ya'. But I had no other choice."

"You always have a choice, Butcher." My voice grew louder as my emotions rose in powerful waves. "And you didn't leave me. You fucking abandoned me!"

He cupped my face, but I turned my head, rejecting the physical affection. "Don't," I whispered. "It's too late. You can't just walk back in here and act like nothing happened. Like you didn't fuck me, and then throw me away like garbage the next day."

Butcher's nostrils flared as he rose to his impressive height, towering over me. "Now, listen here-"

"Ok, I'm breaking this up," MM called, reentering the room. "Jo is very weak right now, and I cannot allow her to undergo any extra stress."

"I'm not weak," I quipped back, whipping my head to gaze at MM as he leaned over the back of the couch.

Unconvinced, he asked, "Really? Let me see you try and stand up then."

When I didn't move to rise from the sofa, MM shook his head. "You need fluids and rest. Luckily, neither is hard to obtain." He held up a bag of fluids before hanging it on an IV stand next to him.

"Now," he continued, doling out commands. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll check your stitches in a couple of hours."

"But I'm not tired," I argued.

"The bags under your eyes say otherwise."

"Well, this couch is uncomfortable," I grumbled. "It hurts my back."

"Alright, we'll get you to your room then," MM sighed.

Before I could stop him, Butcher scooped me up into his arms, and I protested loudly. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oi, shut your pie hole," he whispered harshly, fanning the side of my face with his breath that stank of whiskey and dominance. "I'm takin' care of you whether ya' like it or not."

I fought an internal battle before closing my lips and fixing my eyes into narrow slits.

"Good girl."

Air was quickly expelled from my lungs as I exhaled, willing myself not to rub my legs together as an ache settled between them.

But it was no use. Butcher knew the effect he had on me, and from the corner of my eye, I could see a smirk plastered on his face as he carried me to my room, full of arrogance after winning our little quarrel.

"Dontcha worry, darlin'. When you're on your feet again, you can beat me up for being the bad man that I am."

I didn't respond because I refused to be baited into another argument with Butcher. Instead, I kept a pout in place and stared straight ahead, thinking of all the ways that I could cause him physical harm. After all, he had just given me permission to, and it was proving to be quite invigorating.

"And maybe when you're all done, you'll fancy bending over and lettin' me enjoy a meal or two. Because if my memory serves me, you seemed to enjoy it last time."

"Well, the last time was the only time," I curtly informed him as Butcher gently dropped me down on my bed. I inwardly chastised myself for falling for his trap when he flashed his crazy eyes above me.

"Mhm, that's what they all say."

"Well, I mean it," I snapped, pulling my blanket up to my chin as if it would shield me from Butcher's snarky words.

"Sure ya' do," Butcher said condescendingly as he patted me on the head before leaving the room.

I was relieved to be out of his company and was disappointed when he returned, the IV stand with the bag of fluids still hanging from it in tow and other needed supplies grasped in his hand. I watched as he prepared the IV tubing before he sat down on the edge of my bed and huffed, "Give me your arm."

"Why can't MM do it?" I sulked.

"Because I'm doin' it," he replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

I grumbled under my breath, clearly displeased. As I reluctantly drew my arm from under the blanket's coverage, Butcher looked at me with a bushy brow raised. "What? You don't think I'm a suitable nurse?"

"Well, your bedside manners leave much to be desired."

"That's funny. All my other patients think I'm perfectly charmin', especially the older ladies. I didn't know I appealed to nans so much," he snickered, running a calloused finger over my arm, searching for an appropriate vein.

"I'm surprised you appeal to anyone."

"I guess ya' should be questionin' your own taste then, eh?"

"Believe me, I am."

Butcher didn't reply as he wrapped a small piece of fabric around my bicep, creating a makeshift tourniquet.

"Don't look, ok, doll?" he instructed, swiping a cotton ball covered in rubbing alcohol over my arm. My nose wrinkled at the strong smell, and I coughed.

"I don't need an IV," I said, trying to negotiate at the last minute. "I'll drink lots of water. Even that gross electrolyte shit MM buys."

"I don't think that's gonna to cut it, sweetheart," he stated, sliding the needle inside of the small catheter.

I bit my lip, trying to resign myself to my fate but failing miserably.

"M'not gonna hurt ya', ok? Just look at the ceilin' so you don't maul me to death."

"It's not like you wouldn't deserve it."

Butcher closed his eyes as I began to tread on his nerves. "Princess, you outta think before you speak that way to someone who's holdin' a very sharp object inches from you, yeah?"

"But you won't hurt me. You just said so yourself."

"Doesn't mean I'm not tempted."

I rolled my eyes and held my breath as I followed Butcher's wishes and looked at the ceiling. I winced slightly when I felt the needle initially enter my arm, but Butcher gently ran his free hand over my shoulder, distracting me.

"Atta girl," he breathed. "You're doin' so good."

My body trembled as I floated down from my last orgasm. I was vaguely aware of Butcher as he pulled me to lay on his chest, both of us panting.

"Y'alright, sweetheart?"

I could barely reply as my eyelids fluttered open and closed. My mind was full of various thoughts, but none of them made sense as my head floated somewhere above the rest of my body.

"Look at me, doll," Butcher said, running a hand through my hair. "Lemme see them pretty eyes."

I mustered all of my strength to peel my eyes open as I looked up at Billy with a lazy smile on my face.

"There she is. Atta girl," Butcher whispered. "You did so good for me."

Even in my delirious state, I keened under his praise, and Butcher chuckled at my reaction.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured as I nuzzled into his neck, nodding off in the arms of someone I loved.

Yes, I loved Billy Butcher.

He just didn't know it yet.

I held my breath as I forced myself to count the questionable yellow spots on the ceiling and not get lost in yet another memory of Butcher pretending to cherish me. I had just reached the twelfth discolored splotch when Butcher sat back and said, "All done, love."

I looked down at my arm and furrowed my brows in confusion when I saw the catheter fully inserted with some tape to keep it in place. Aside from the initial insertion, I hadn't felt the rest of the procedure.

"Told ya' it wouldn't hurt," Butcher said proudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, reading my thoughts, which were clearly displayed on my face.

"I guess you're not the worst nurse in the world," I relented.

Butcher's mouth curled up at the side, and I knew my meager compliment had inflated his already oversized ego.

"Well, ain't that sweet of you to say. But don't tell MM, alright? He prides himself on his medical skills."

Butcher delicately adjusted my blanket, pulling it tighter and tucking me in for the night. "Now you have a little lie-down, love. And dontcha let those manky bedbugs bite."

"Are you going to read me a bedtime story while you're at it?" I inquired.

"The only stories I like to tell aren't appropriate for bedtime," Butcher whispered, winking at me.

He headed for the open doorway before turning around at the last second. "Oh, and if ya' need help countin' sheep, just give me a shout. I'll be on the other side of the wall."

I nodded before curling up on my side, trying not to tug too hard on my IV as the door creaked shut, signaling that I was alone. The light from the living room drifted under the doorway, providing a makeshift nightlight and illuminating the small, dingy room.

Sleep came surprisingly soon, and I drifted off, dreaming of Billy's heartbeat under my ear as he held me in his arms.

༺༻

It felt like only minutes later when I woke up due to the sensation of someone's hands on my stomach, and I flinched as my eyes flew open.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," MM apologized. "I was just checking your stitches," he explained as he pulled the bandage back over my abdomen and quickly did the same with my shirt and blanket.

"How does it look?" I asked hesitantly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"So far, it's holding. But it wasn't my best work with Frenchie going ninety miles an hour and you...evading my help," he sighed.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled sheepishly.

"Hey, don't worry about it, kid. We all have something we're scared of. If I were being held down against my will while someone coughed in my face, I'd have done everything I could to knock their fucking teeth out."

My smile was small as I nodded in gratitude. "What time is it?" I inquired, wondering what day it was as well.

"Noon."

"Noon?" My eyes grew wide as I ran a hand through my matted hair. "Fuck, I must've slept for almost nine hours." Which was rare. These days, I was lucky if I slept for two hours consecutively with the anxiety that ran through my veins and the threats that loomed over our heads.

"Ten, actually. I told you your body needed rest."

I was preparing a comeback when my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting the conversation.

MM rose to his feet. "By the sound of it, it seems you might want some breakfast. Frenchie made you a get-well gift in the form of French toast. Are you interested?" he asked, and my ears perked up at the offer.

"Sounds really good, actually."

He nodded, patting my shoulder. "Ok. Butcher will be in to help you up."

I groaned loudly, and MM couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, kid, but Butcher made us all swear not to touch you. I was only granted special permission on the basis that it was purely medical so I could check your stitches."

"He's being ridiculous," I scowled.

MM regarded me knowingly. "I think I'd probably call it something else."

I rolled my eyes, and MM laughed again as he exited my room, leaving the door open.

I barely had time to prepare myself for Butcher's imposing presence when he glided through the uninhibited doorway with a cheery greeting on his tongue.

"Rise and shine, my love. How are we feelin' this mornin?" His accent was especially thick as he wasted no time in raking my blanket back.

I yanked the fuzzy material back over myself, glaring up at the Brit, but he just retaliated by gripping the blanket in one of his paw-like hands and tossing it across the small room.

I eyed the pile of fabric I was unable to retrieve due to my current injury and whined, "Don't leave it on the floor. I just washed it." But I was soon distracted by the chair that sat in the corner facing my bed. I didn't remember seeing that yesterday.

"Who's chair is that?" I asked, pivoting the conversation.

"Mine," Butcher replied as he carefully pulled my IV out and wheeled the IV stand out of the way. "You'll have to forgive me for bringin' my chair in, but I haven't figured out how to sleep standin' up yet."

"You slept in here last night?"

"Well, I don't have bloody x-ray vision, so how else was I s'pposed to keep an eye on you, eh?"

"Did it ever occur to you that not checking on me at all was a viable option?"

"Not in my book," he responded sharply before changing the subject. "Now, let's getcha up. According to MM, you're fancyin' some of Frenchie's cookin'."

Butcher slid an arm under my lower back and slowly pulled me into a sitting position.

"Easy does it, love," he said as I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed through the discomfort. "You got it."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed so my feet rested on the floor, and I braced my palms on my thighs, trying to steady myself.

"Take your time, ok? I don't need ya' rippin' your stitches under my watch," he advised as he laced our hands together and pulled until I was standing on my own two feet. My vision blacked out for a second as the blood rushed from my head down to the rest of my body, and I teetered forward, falling into Butcher's muscular chest.

"I've got ya' sweetheart," he assured me as he held my unstable frame against him.

I pulled back when my vision returned, and I looked up into Butcher's attentive face. "I'm dizzy," I mumbled.

"S'ok. MM said that's normal," he assured me softly, tucking my tangled hair behind my ear.

I wanted to chastise myself for enjoying Butcher's tenderness, but I simply didn't have the energy as I nodded, trying to turn toward the door.

"Do ya' think you can walk?" he asked, resting a protective hand on my back. I'm more than happy to carry you."

"I don't need a chauffeur. I'm perfectly capable of walking," I said, stumbling forward a few steps. I was determined to do something on my own after being coddled for the past twenty-four hours.

Butcher didn't reply, but he didn't remove his hand either in the event that I should fall again. That only increased the pressure I felt to walk faster and show him I was strong enough to move about without any help.

I finally made it out into the open area of the basement and was greeted by everyone. Hughie, Kimiko, and MM wore encouraging smiles as Frenchie placed a tall plate of French toast topped with whipped cream on the coffee table.

"Pour toi, Mademoiselles," Frenchie announced, and I thanked him profusely.

Under Butcher's watchful eye, I eased myself down on the couch, and he quickly followed suit. He placed a supportive arm around my shoulders, and I would've made a snarky comment about him being clingy, but his arm was the only thing keeping me upright at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut.  

Butcher placed my breakfast in my lap and whispered in my ear, "Do ya' need me to cut it for you, princess?"

I used all my energy to elbow him in his side, and he breathed out a laugh before addressing the room. "Alright you twats. Let's have a little chin wag about tonight."

My head shot up in confusion as I chewed the first bite of my French toast. The wonderful medley of sugar and cinnamon coated my tongue. However, I couldn't focus on Frenchie's superb culinary skills when the group began discussing a mission to which I was not privy.

"Ok, so after a little bit of trouble due to a very annoying firewall, I was able to hack their systems, and I found a blueprint of the building, so we'll be able to locate her office quicker than just going in blindly," Hughie said, squatting next to the coffee table and spreading out the blueprint that he had just spoken of.

"Who's office?" I interrupted.

Hughie looked confusedly at Butcher, who had remained silent beside me. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" I asked skeptically, turning my head to look at Butcher, and he sighed.

"We're breakin' into Raynor's office to have a look around before the CIA cleans it out. Word on the street is that they're doin' it tomorrow, so we've gotta go tonight."

"And you decided this without me?" I asked incredulously.

"You were knocked out, love. Was I s'pposed to wake ya' up in the middle of the night? You're always moaning about how ya' need your beauty sleep."

"Well, that wouldn't have been difficult considering you were two feet away watching me like a fucking peeping tom," I snapped before glaring at the rest of the room. "I'm coming with you."

"No," Butcher said sternly. "You aren't goin' anywhere."

"Yes, I am," I pressed.

I felt Butcher's fingers tighten around my shoulder. "Let's talk about this later, yeah?" he suggested.

"Talk about what later? The mission that I was unaware of or the fact that you won't fucking leave me alone?"

I should've seen it coming, but I was still thrown off when Butcher suddenly stood from the sofa, leaving me to crumple against it without his support. He then stomped to the other side of the basement, only stopping when he reached the corner and sneered at me. "Is this better?"

"Expanetuily," I bit back, clutching my abdomen as it tensed up under the new strain as I stood as well, not finished with what I had to say on the matter. I thought I was holding up well until MM swore, rushing to my side and forcing me to sit back down.

Bemewsed by his behavior, I tried to question him, but when he pulled up my shirt, I saw blood seeping through the gauze, and my heart plummeted.

I had ripped my stitches.

"Hughie, go into my room. On my desk, you will find some supplies. Bring them to me," MM instructed as he made quick work of pulling back the now-damp gauze.

"Fuck, it's worse than what I thought," he sighed. "Nice going, Butcher," he said, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder at his boss, who had remained standing in the corner.

The dig forced Butcher into action as he footed it over to us. "Fuck you. Clearly, I didn't do it on bloody purpose."

"Just get out," MM barked as he accepted the supplies from Hughie.

"No, I'm stayin'," Butcher argued obstinantely.

MM pinched the bridge of his nose. "Butcher, Jo is clearly upset by you being here. So stop being a stubborn motherfucker and get the fuck out."

Butcher's gaze fell on me as lines formed between his thick brows in concern. I knew he was waiting for me to beg him to stay, but I wouldn't do it. His comfort was something I craved like a drug, and it was about time I got clean. Plus, I couldn't deny the sick urge I had to hurt him, to push him away like he did to me when he left for three months.

"Fine," Butcher uttered slowly when I remained silent, "I'll let you other cunts dry this one's tears when she's fuckin' beside herself over a goddamn needle and a little bit of blood."

He pivoted around and swept up the stairs. Seconds later, the old building shook as Butcher forcefully slammed the door.

It was quiet after Butcher's dramatic exit, and MM shook his head, running a needle through a lighter. The deja vu I felt was painfully prominent.

"You ready to try this again, kid?"

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[backtothefanfiction]

Kinktober '23 | DAY 2: The Bet and the Costume Contest

Prompt: RolePlay

Summary: You enter into a bet with your couples costume contest partner.

Warnings: SMUT!! Roleplay, costumes, PinV, upskirt, frat!Peter

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Day 2, here we go!!! I did watch Buffy as a kid but have yet to watch properly as an adult despite it being on my list of things to do but hopefully still reads okay. Also I just rushed the second half of this so apologies if the tense is messed up.

It was just your luck. Of course you would have been paired with him. It was Brianna’s fault really. She was the one who had come up with this whole idea of partnering with your Theta Beta Pi brothers to do a couples costume contest as part of this year's Halloween Bash. All the girls had put their names into a hat and each of the boys took turns picking a name out and of course you had been picked by Peter Parker. You had decided to go as Buffy and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or at least you thought you had until you turned up at the house in a mini skirt, wooden stake in hand and a bleached blonde, leather clad Parker, ran down the stairs and straight into you.

“THERE’S MY BUFFY!” he beamed.

“What did you do to your hair?!”

“I’m Spike. I thought it would be more fun. Plus I figured we’d be a shoe in to win due to my dedication alone.” He said pointing to his head.

“Oh my god!” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

As the night went on you had to admit, the blonde, although it did make him look quite sleazy, was actually quite hot. You also had to commend his dedication to the character and the bit as he kept shouting out Spike quotes the whole night. “AND YOU’RE WHAT? SHOCKED AND DISAPPOINTED? I’M EVIL!” He shouted when the two of you won at beer pong against a pair dressed as Mario and Princess Peach.

“Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got shagged, cup of tea.” he said as he handed out drinks to your small congregated group as you sat sharing a joint in the garden.

“First I’ll kill her, then I’ll save her.” he said, wrapping an arm around you and dipping you over it as he showed off in front of his fraternity brothers.

“PETER!” You squealed.

“Peter? Who is this Peter? There’s no Peter here, my name is Spike.”

He had called you Buffy for the whole night too. “Where has my Buffy gone?” he would cry as he moved through rooms in the house looking for you. “BUFFY? Excuse me, have you seen the chosen one?” he asked one girl.

“What Harry Potter?” she responded. He just bared his fake fangs and hissed at her.

“Yo Parker!” One of his frat brothers, Josh, called to him across the room, directing him back to the group of you sat around the coffee table in the living room.

You budged up a little on the seat, giving him room to squeeze in beside you (he won’t sit anywhere else).

“So Parker, you’re pretty confident about winning this costume contest.” Josh said. He’s dressed up as Sonny, Alannah is somewhere else in the house dressed as Cher.

“I mean, yeah. Look at us man.” Peter shot back confidently.

“You willing to put a bet on it?” Josh taunted.

“Oh we are not winning.” You mumbled from your seat beside Peter. The only thing he’s got going for him is the hair, apart from that the two of you look basic compared to other costumes, there’s a really good Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein hanging around somewhere.

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble with placing a bet then.” Josh drunkenly goaded.

“What and you think you’re gonna win?” You said back.

“Oh no, I know we aren’t going to win. I’m talking about you two. You know Parker’s always had a crush on Buffy.” 

At Josh’s words Peter squirmed a little beside you but tried his best to hide it, eager to see how you’d react.

“Is that so?” You questioned.

“Yup!” Josh said confidently. “If you guys win, Parker gets his dream come true and gets to fuck Buffy.” He throws out.

“Fine. Deal.” Your drunken brain responded hastily. There’s no way you guys are winning. “Okay and what if we lose?”

“Okay, what do you want?” Josh asked on Peter’s behalf. He’s being uncharacteristically quiet for this whole exchange.

“If we lose the contest, which we will,” you reassure, “you guys have to bring a litre bottle of vodka to every party just for me, until the end of the year.”

“Deal.” 

“And by end of the year I mean school year, not just Christmas break.”

Peter and Josh hesitate a sec but Josh is quick to solidify the deal, holding his hand out for you to shake. And that was how you ended up with Peter Parker tied to your bedframe with the tie from your bathrobe. You were sure it had to have been rigged, there really was no way you should have won.

“Peter, I feel silly.” 

“Just go with it, I promise it’s all good.”

“Pete, I haven’t even seen that much of the show.”

“It’s vampires and magic and supernatural stuff, it’s all cool just, make it up.”

‘Fine’ you thought as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been checking Giles’s books and there's only one way to cure this type of evil.” you said as you began to slowly walk across the room to him. He gives you a devilish look and you have to admit, paired with the blonde hair it does make you weak in the knees. 

He watches you closely as you come to a stop beside the bed. His eyes follow your fingers as you slide them up your legs and underneath your skirt, hooking your thumbs into your underwear and pulling them down your legs. He goes to frustratedly moan as you tease him but the moment his mouth is wide enough, you shove your panties into his mouth.

“UUUhhh FuuCK!” his voice mumbles into the fabric as his head lulls back.

You climb up onto the bed, hooking your leg over his hips to straddle him. You reach behind you for the stake, sitting at the end of his bed, running it down his chest. “You need to hold still okay. Do you trust me?” you asked him in character. He nodded.

When your hand trails down to undo his trousers he is hard and he whispers slightly as his sensitive tip brushes past the fabric of his boxers as you pull them down far enough to release him. You reach for a condom, rolling it down onto his length before you lift yourself to hover over him and slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

His eyes watch intensely as his length slips out of view underneath your skirt. With the way he’s looking at you, you have to admit, maybe you were getting more into this than you first thought you would. He moans as you ride his cock, grinding your hips down into his pelvic bone before lifting back off again, his skin dragging across your slit and it feels so good. His cock feels so good as he fills you out. 

You know you told him to stay still but you don’t have it in you to punish him when he starts rolling his hips and thrusting up into you. You quickly realise though he’s close, his thrusts getting quicker as he chases his high. He mumbles words around your panties. You are reluctant to do it but you remove them from his mouth to hear what he has to say. 

“Thank you.” he sighs first and just pants for a little bit between grunts as you continue to ride his dick, your walls tightening with every up lift before you slam your hips back down again. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes Buffy. Fuck that evil out of me.” he says and if it wasn’t for the fact you were actually so close you would have just got off and left him hanging but you are so close now you want your own finish. “Lift your skirt, let me see.” he asks. You raise your eyebrows at him. “Please.” he quickly adds and you oblige lifting up the sides of your skirt so it sits above your hips. “Oh yeah.” he moans. “Touch yourself.” he says and you don’t know why but you do as he says, your fingers moving to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends you over the edge and he cries out “OH FUCK!” as your walls clamp down around him. 

You can feel his hips stutter, once, then twice, then he stills as you feel him fill the condom inside you. 

He lets out a long sigh of relief as you begin to ease yourself off him. “What do you say, Parker?”

“Thank you Miss Summers.” You just roll your eyes.

------------------------

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Run

- you went to a bicycle tournament even if you aren't interested in it. Even a bit. But that day, your friend invited you to watch him race.

(Ik he already have a gf but lets just forget about her and create alternative universe please)

It's burning hot that day. The sun is having fun burning people. Maybe coming there is a bad decision after all. But remembering that your group of friends who come all the way from Busan to the place around you, just for bike tournaments, it'll be too harsh for you not to cheer for them. The match of your friends team is already done. Looks like they won. While you want to go meet up with your friends, you stumble across someone who is really attractive.

You look at him from far. Thinking what should you do to get his information. Then you saw people taking pictures with some cyclists. Taking deep breath, you walk to him and approach him.

"Hey, you look great on race today. Can I take pictures with you?" You said. Trying to be confident. Even tho only God knows how scared and shy you are that time.

The guy's head tilted a bit as if he was questioning you. He didn't say anything, makes your confidence drop. You want to take it as rejection but even before you could walk away, the guy replied , "my team turn hasn't come yet but sure"

That's how you stand there in embarrassment. Maybe it's a price to pay for trying a good looking man. The guy looks around 180cm, with short fluffy black hair that almost covers his eyes, long lashes, eyes that looks dead, and face what show he don't give a fuck of world. Totally your type.

You took some selca with him and left with his insta id. When he leaves, you can see a huge logo printed on his back. A bird with flowers? "Humming bird.. maybe I should stay a bit."

That's how your story starts. Not a beautiful story. From tagging him on Instagram story, to manipulating him to give his phone number. Pestering him everyday.

From what you know, his name is Jay Jo and his uncle is some short of cyclists champion? He is really hard to approach. Dry texter and he is weird. But you can see he try. He replied to everything almost immediately. Isn't that cute?

You never ask about his personal life. So you don't know he really is. Plus you think it doesn't matter. That's what you thought. Until today come.

Today is a hell day. You run away from home after a big fight with your mom. The new day has almost come so there's not much shop open around you. Also you, who leave every personal stuff at home, can't afford to stay anywhere. Yeah you forgot to bring your bag that has your wallet, bike key, charger, etc. You are alone in the middle of the night, at the park, only with your phone. Probably heaven really mad that you fight with your mom, the badluck streak doesn't end there.

Your phone, the only thing you have right now, only has 20 percent of battery. If you use it consistently, for sure it won't live till the next day. You sigh. You don't know where to stay. Most of your friends live miles away from your place. You who don't have a single penny, can't go anywhere. Your friends who live around here, mostly stay out of town to continue studying. So it's just you alone.

You become more restless until you see Jay like one of your stories. A few minutes ago you uploaded a story saying that you might be gone for a while. Well it's directly for the 'fans' of yours. You might be unable to show up on Instagram so you don't want any of them to wonder where you have been. Last time you went without saying anything, the aftermath you got is something you can't handle.

You look at Jay's profile who is currently online. Based on his following, he looks like he knows some of the mutual there. The possibility of him staying around you is also high. Maybe he can help?

You slide to his profile and start to chat with him.

"Hey Jay, sudden request. Do you have an extra charger? Can I borrow your charger?"

Jay is typing...

Pfft. See? He immediately replied.

"Yeah. Are you going to pick it up?"

"Yeah. Where do you live?"

He then sent his location. The reason you don't really pester into his personal life is because he never asks about yours. So you see there's no reason for you to start if. It's inappropriate too for you.

"I will arrive in a bit"

You send the chat before you start walking. It's around 15 minutes walk. You haven't eaten since yesterday so you don't really have energy left. So you walk at a slow pace. Hoping you didn't make him wait long.

You received a call.

"Jay..?" You were wondering why he called you. Did you take too much time? You answer the call. You didn't say anything because you want to let him talk first. But the other end also didn't say anything.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"You take your time. Where you at?" He asked. So cold. You can feel his coldness.

"Uh.. xxxx" you name the place based on the map.

"It's near. Should I pick you up?" He offered. You guys aren't that close and you have trouble so you refuse.

"It's going to rain" he said and immediately hung up.

You just stand there, stunned by his action. You look up and try to confirm his word. But it's the middle of the night. No way you can see the difference. But did he know? Yeah whatever it's not your concern.

In front of you, there's a tall building. "Oh, he lives in a condo". While u are mesmerized by the place, a black cat comes to your leg and meows at you. The cat immediately got your attention. Definitely the cutest cat ever. You squat down to play with it.

"You should've told me if u arrived" a pair of legs stopped in front of you and the cat. You look up and it's Jay.

You stand and look at him. He doesnt look like he is ready to sleep. He's all dressed up like he is from somewhere. In his hand, there's a paper bag. Noticing you looking at it, Jay immediately hands it over to you.

"Thank you" you look into the bag. It's a brand new USB cable and power bank. You look at him confused. "It's new...?"

"Yeah. I don't know if the one I have right now can function properly or not" he bites his lips and looks away. Ah he looks so cute.

"Well if you just let me know, I will just buy a new one for myself you know." You feel guilty. Who doesn't? You definitely trouble him.

"My fault for replying without checking properly. Plus I'm on my way home" he said.

Oh.. I see.

You just nodded. "Well I owe you". As soon as you want to take steps to leave, it starts to rain. You let go of a really heavy sigh. Today is definitely not yours.

"You can stay at my house for a bit" his words stop your steps. You were shocked. Is he for real?

"Are you sure Jay?" You look at him, trying to see if he's telling the truth.

He nodded. "You look like you aren't in a position to say no after all. Why don't I lend some hand?" He added. You moved by him. "I saw you walk means you don't have or take any transport. You must be tired. Plus it's raining. I'm not cruel for letting someone walk in the rain."

Not only does this guy have a good appearance, he only has a good heart. His family raised him well. You hope you didn't judge too fast.

You just follow him to his unit. Jay's condo security system.. you can say it's quite too much. Lobby, then the lif, and even each floor needs an access card. Is he rich? You ask yourself.

"I need to take something at the carpark. You can enter first" he said. He gave you his password to enter his unit. Why did he trust you so much?

You leave that question aside. Maybe you don't have to know. Maybe it's not the time for you to know yet.

You enter his unit and it's nothing like you expected from him. It's dark yet so clean and lacks furniture. It looks cold. There's no coach or place to sit except the food table. It's quite big but it's so.. quite. So you just sit on the floor without saying anything after plugging in to charge your phone.

You zoned out while thinking about the 'curse' you got. There's much more problems you have and the fight with your mom is your last straw. Maybe you should've just gone from the world and stop trying to survive.

You heard someone unlock the door and you can see Jay walking in. The first thing that came to your mind was "welcome home".

He was stunned. He looked at you without moving for awhile. his ears slowly glowing red. "I'm.. home" he said. Trying to hide his face. He put two pieces of plastic on the table. You can smell fried chicken from it. You peak in interest.

"You should eat. You can take a bath either before or after. Up to you" Jay said as he tried to avoid eye contact. You didn't mention it. You were thinking if you should eat first or take some bath first.

"Can I borrow your towel?" You decided to take a shower first. Knowing you'll get cold chicken, you rather eat that than eat with Jay while being smelly.

But your question makes Jay stunned. He bites his lips and slowly looks at you. "Do you mind sharing a towel with me? I forgot to buy a new one"

That's when it hits you. This whole house is his. Everything is his. Only you are yours. Sharing a towel, soap, shampoo, fragrance, everything is an opportunity. You nod to his question. He brings you to his toilet and you take a bath there.

You can hear Jay's doing something in the kitchen. Chopping, blending, tf he doing? Then he quit a bit. Well none is your concern. After a while, you go out with a towel. Outside, he prepared your clothes to wear. How ironic that he is definitely bigger than you.

You are unsure why his clothes look so big on you. He is indeed taller but you guys sizes look basically the same. If anything, it's impossible to wear something larger than yours. It's definitely a scene straight from drama. So cliche.

While you walk entering the living room, seeing Jay already sits on the floor with a mini table open. There's a friend's chicken and friend rice you believe Jay is cooking just now. He looks like a lost child while waiting for you. The mini towel got your attention.

"When did you take a bath?"

"Just now" he answered. Didn't intend to reply more than that. So you just nod and sit in front of him. Maybe you don't have two know.

"You drink?" He asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I want to take the day off tomorrow. Drink with me" he then put a few cans of beer on the table. He just grin while looking at you. He is definitely the cutest.

"Thank you" you took one of the beers and drank it. Jay just looks at you without saying anything. He takes one of the chickens and puts them on a plate that has been served in front of you. You guys start eating and drinking.

He isn't as quiet as you think he is. He does talk. But not a lot. And he isn't awkward or cold. You're glad you can see his new side. He looks so cute this way. You hope that you are the only one who can see Jay acts this way.

"Why did you help me?" That question accident slipped your mouth. Maybe you drink too much. He stopped eating and looked at you.

"Is that wrong? Helping you?" He looks so confused.

"You can just say no" you start bickering. This is definitely why people stop asking you to join for drinks. You start a fight.

"I have a hard time saying no." He replied calmly.

"Then you gonna help everyone that comes to you?"

He shook his head. "Only you. I only have a hard time saying no to you". He said that without looking directly into your eyes. But you can't sense lies from his voice.

"Issit because you think I'm pathetic?" You ask but Jay didn't reply. But he stops eating and looks at you. " It's not because you want to take advantage of me right?"

"You drunk" Jay takes away the beer from your hand. Unsatisfied by how he didn't answer your question, you grab his hand make him pulled to you and almost fall on the table.

"Answer me"

He tries to run his eyes from you but you are irresistible. "If you allow me then I don't mind" he then pecks your forehead before pating your head, then back sitting opposite from you.

That action is enough to make you shut up. He's well aware of your feelings and isn't in the phase of wanting a girlfriend but he also doesn't want to take your feelings easily and he didn't play with you. Maybe he is giving you a chance to grab his heart.

Jay, who just makes you stunned just now, chuckle seeing how you stopped moving and having a shocked face. He feels like you are so cute. He then wants to continue eating but who expects you will stand up and jump on him? He definitely didn't expect it.

You on top of him, holding both of his hands, while putting your weight on his stomach. He grunts as your body hits him suddenly and it makes him fall on the floor. But seeing you on top of him, and your face really close to him, he starts becoming shy. He looks aside and you can see how red his ears have become.

"y/n, what are you doing?" He said without looking at you. You can see Jay red getting red and redder for every second pass you leave his question hanging. He can't handle the quiet atmosphere you decide to give. So he faces you again and you who have been waiting, start to kiss him.

Whoever sees this scene, will definitely judge you for your actions. Who actually jumps on people and kisses them? That's such an immoral actio-- I would.

The kiss starts with your lips touching his and after it, he starts to open his mouth, then leads you with his tongue. You didn't expect how good he is in kissing. The kiss is so sensual that your hand that holds your weight almost gives up. Noticing how your hand starts shaking, Jay easily breaks from your prison.

You fell on him and it makes all your body weight on him. You can feel every breath his take, how fast his heartbeat is and how hot he is right now. Jay wrapped his hand around your head before sitting and it makes you sit on his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear to see you better.

His eyes linger on your face as he is just massaging your neck then his eyes stop on your lips. You can see how he tries to hold himself from kissing and eat you alive. But you can't take it anymore. You wrapped your arm around his next and played with his soft fluffy hair before pulling his hair closer to you kiss him again. You take the lead. You control his tongue movement and teach him how you like it. He seems to just follow your lead while his hand slowly goes lower and lower then ends up around your waist.

You can feel something poke on your sensitive part down there. You don't have to look by yourself you already know what it is. It makes you feel pure happiness. The guy you like got turned on just by kissing you.

Noticing he accidentally poked you, he immediately panicked. "I need to go to the toilet" he said as he wanted to push you off his lap. He covers his face using his hand and tries to not look at you.

You were confused by his actions. "Was it because of this?" You start to touch his bulge, teasing him. You can see how it's growing and getting harder.

He bit his lips that plumped just by kissing you. He slowly nodded. But you still won't let him go. Without asking, you start rubbing him with yourself and satisfy yourself. You rub your clit with his bulge and move back and forward with your own pace. He tries to hold his voice in that he starts to let heavy breath. He is trying his best to not let any sinister voice out but he seems to fail. He threw his head to the back and only let one of his hands support him from falling while another one covered his eyes. He let out a cute grunt as you try to massage it using your hand.

He closes his mouth with his hand and looks at you between the gaps of his finger.

Omg he is such a baby girl.

"Please don't do this to me" he said. His eyes are lost in pleasure and you can see he is sweating as if he just finished running. His Adam apple moves up and down as he gulps the saliva.

"I.. didn't do anything?" You said innocently. But your hips didn't stop. You close. Really close. But it's not enough. You need something in you.

Jay lost patience as he lifted you up and put you on his shoulder, bringing you to his bedroom without opening any light and throwing you on his bed. He didn't even bother closing the door or locking the room. You can see he's panting as he stands in front of the bed.

"Can you stay here for a while?" He asked nicely. As if he is begging you to not throw and tantrum. But you know if you let him go then there's no second chance. Right now is the time.

"Where did you wanna go?" You lie down and hide half of your face. Acting like you sad when you know damn well most of your skin is exposed by the impact he throws at your bed.

"I need to calm myself down"

"Then how about me?" You asked. Even if you can't see him clearly, you know that he is dead red. As you are waiting for his response, you can see his Adam's apple move. "Same like you, I'm wet down there too"

"Will you allow me?"

You nodded.

You can see Jay a bit hesitant by your words but his hand says otherwise. He tried to reach you but he didn't move.

"We are drunk. You will regret it later"

"Then let's regret it later" you said. It's obvious you can't wait.

He comes closer to you. You can see every step he takes seems heavy. Looks like he reconsidered his decision every step. "Jay.. I only want you because I love you" you give the last shot.

He climbs on bed and topps you. He looks at you with guilt and with lust. You can tell he is fighting himself inside his mine.

"What do you like about me?" He asked. He looks straight into your eyes. He tries to not touch you before getting grasped the whole situation.

You touch his face that's really close to you. "you have a good looking face. Nice body. Tall. Fair skin" you stop. "Fluffy hair" you added.

"All is my type" you said to him. "and I really love the fact you are acting cold towards everyone else. I know you aren't acting. You just don't know how to show affection."

Jay's face softened. Satisfied by your answer. He pushes your hair on your forehead before giving a quick peck on it. He starts kissing you from your forehead, down to nose, then to your lips. His hand trail your face down to your neck then stop on the top of your chest. He looks at you.

You grab his hand and put it on your boobs. Showing him that it's fine to touch you. Not enough, you took off your shirt, leaving you only with bra and undies. You enjoy every moment his large hand gropes your fine toned boobs. You can see that Jay is also enjoying the moment as you can feel Jay's bulge growing bigger than before.

You don't want the moment to stop and leave you hanging like just now. It's very annoying when your climax gets denied istg. You unzip his pants and take out his dick. Maybe because he is athletic, you can see his veins around his cock.

Jay look at you. Waiting for your comment. He is curious whether you like it or not. As he sees your eyes open wide, he chuckles and goes in for a kiss once more. His breath left as you start massaging him. It makes his hands weak. Having direct contact with your skin with his sensitive spot makes him weaker more than him thought.

You feel it cute when Jay tries to hide his moan and starts to breathe heavily. "Ah-" a moan slipped your mouth as Jay suddenly bit your neck.

Why did this man act like an animal suddenly?

"Sorry" he apologizes. Licking the place on your neck that he bit. Jay is bold with lifting one of your legs to his shoulder. Close to his face, he licks and kisses your calves. The view you see right now is to die for. You wish you could snap this pic on your phone and save it as a memory but you have your phone outside.

What a shame.

As he rubs your claves and things, his hand starts to rub your inner thigh, carefully. He plays around your clit outside your undies. He's making sure that you get used to his touch before going for it. But suddenly he flinches and he grabs both of your hands that have been touching his dick. You can see his delicious banana is leaking precum. "Bad hands" he said.

Jay locks your hand and pushes it to the top of your head. Making you can't move. He takes out your pants. Using his own spit, he enters your pussy using his hand. You can feel he playing around inside of you with his finger. He spread your pussy before adding another one. His thumb is playing with your clit to give you more sensation.

You can't keep your mouth shut by letting your pants out. Your eyes start to roll back when he licks and bites your nipple. You can hear he start purring. It's weird for you. But it's cute.

"Jay- stop-" you said. Urging him to stop. You feel something weird. He was confused by your request. "I might pee" you continue. But he didn't stop. Yet his hand starts moving faster as he looks at your face while biting your nipple.

"Jay Jay Jay!!" You repeatedly call out his name but he continues. "Ah-" your hips flinch as you start leaking some liquid from your pussy. Jay's hands are soaked by it. He licks you cum before kissing you.

You, who's still sensitive, start to shake when he rubs your clit once more. Your body is arching making your body touch his. You can feel something is 'kissing' you down there. You try to be calm while biting your lips but jay notices your lips start bleeding, and starts to lick the blood.

"Bite me instead" he let go of your hand and started to touch your face. He then puts his fingers inside of your mouth, doesn't let you bite your poor lips.

"You are so wet yet why are you so tight?" He grunting. You can hear the pain and pleasure from his voice. Every inch you take, you can feel your inside throbbing. And when Jay goes to the last push, you immediately can feel your inside are full.

His bare dick feels so hot as your inside touches directly to his skin. Every curve his dick has, you can feel it. It's too late to ask him to wear a condom. Because if you would, he might run to the convenience store and buy one. And there's a possibility he'll just jerk off and cool down and chicken out.

You tap his hand asking him to take out his finger inside of your mouth. As soon as he takes out, he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to his hips. Your bellow part got lift easily. But seeing you feel uncomfortable, he grabs your hand and pulls you to hug him, making you sit on him.

The weight of your body makes his dick feel so much deeper. As if you can feel it in your stomach. That's what you thought until you can feel the bulge in your stomach.

He easily helps you move and ride his delicious cock with his strength. You can see the bulge also move as you go up and down.

Jay's heavy breath turned to grunts, his sweat smells nice, his body heat makes you calm then drives you crazy, his hand on your waist, supporting you to move. Everything is perfect. Everything feels like such a dream.

"You smell sweet y/n" he said. Licking your eyes. "I want to eat you" he added. You can hear his growling softly. He kisses your cheek, licks your mouth, and ends up eating your mouth again. The whole room is full of sinister sounds that have been produced by you. Licking sounds, moan, whimpers, clapping, everything comes from you alone.

Jay starts using his hips to move you instead of his hands. He leads your legs to wrap you around nicely and you hand to hug him before you start moving again. He can't see your face but every breath you take, every whimpers and whine you make, sounds very clear to him.

The growth of his size makes you crazy once again. "How come you can be bigger and still not come?" You ask while whining like a bitch with every single word you said.

"Because you are too cute"

Jay starts to move faster as he can hear your hiccup. He got the feeling he accidentally poked your gspot and he was correct. The spot he has been poking makes you hiccup and unable to think straight. If there's a mirror there, you definitely can see how many scares you gave him.

You are surprised as he cum inside you and still hasn't grown softer. You offer him a blow job but he refuses. Saying he will take care of it by himself in the toilet.

As if you will let that right? Hshs. You guys end up having round 2 in his small bathroom. Standing makes your knees weak so he supports your weight by himself. Both of your voices fill the bathroom. Jay didn't seem like he would leave you alone after this.

Even when clearing his cum inside you, he still helps you and fingering you. Overstimulation from him makes you cry and pass out at the end.

You wake up with a strong headache. First thing you see is Jay Jo pinching your cheeks with your phone on his hand. He is taking your photo. You were shocked.

"Do you hate it?" He asked. Showing some pics of you and him while you are sleeping. "I take it on your phone so if you hate it, you can delete it later" he then gave his phone to you. "I didn't take any from my phone. So, if there's a pic of us you like, please send me"

You hold your head. Unable to proceed with the information Jay just gave. The hungover is killing you. "I--" your voice cracked.

Jay laughed. "Rest first, I will order food for you" he said, pull you closer and kiss your forehead.

...

So how do you tell him that you didn't remember anything from yesterday? And why is he being so nice this morning? Hshs..

(Notes;)K thats all. Its long ik. Im sorry. I start write this one from two months ago when i went to a cosplay event and i saw Jay Jo cosplayer. No I'm not pervert irl. It just happened this way so i figure it i should write a fic about it.

If yall lucky then i will write ff about König too😜

If you guys like this, then support wooin ff

[moonshine-82]

Max Verstappen x Female driver reader

Warnings - angst, j*s verstappen (ewww i know but he’s too good for angst), swearing, also my first ever fic so woo.

Info - ~ writing ~ means flash back. Also sort of based on lyrics from Taylor swifts out of the woods

Summary - you and max have always raced against each other, but now you are both teammates together at red bull. Untold feelings remain however will they be exposed before the pressure get too much

As you trudge away from the wreckage and through the gravel, you can’t help be look back.

~ Max Verstappen was the one name you would always be able to pick out from childhood. As a girl in karting you faced a lot of obstacles; mostly boys and their fathers telling you you weren’t good enough. Max wasn’t one of them. Surprisingly his father wasn’t either, well not outwardly at least. No the year older Dutch boy always treated you the same as everyone else. It did mean he acted like a spoiled little brat who wouldn’t take anything less than a win but that was what everybody got.

This lack of sexism continued as you progressed through the ranks together. As such a friendship began to bloom. Both of you had your difficulties and critics, one the patriarchy and the other their own father, which helped a bond form. You would regularly be seen talking shop before the race and guiding each other through the emotions after. It was a rare occasion that your pair were spotted apart. In that time, Max learnt just how harsh the world was to a girl in motorsport, that no amount of victories will be enough. You learnt that Verstappen’s sore loser nature came from his father, more specifically the way he treated him.

As you grew up together the connection only got stronger, heading up to the higher levels didn’t change that…~

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINK”

A now painfully familiar voice snapped you out of your day dreaming. Looking up, the only thing in view was the furious stature of your teammate marching towards you. Not the crash of the two highly expensive red bull cars. Not the marshals trying to get you over the barrier. Not even the stand of fans all rendered silent by the events. No, all that you eyes were willing to see was your childhood best friend and love of your life (though you had never expressed that) on a murder path.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING”

Your comment only seemed to make Max even angrier. The second it happened you knew the crash was your fault, but you couldn’t just let him shout at you at by way. As he stalked closer and closer, your original strength vanished. So much so your heart began yo face. You knew Max was capable of a destructive rampage. It was something that you had to witness numerous times. The only difference is that you were never the destination before. Not to say he was never annoyed by you, and especially with the rising tension this season, but never like this. It forced the little girl deep inside of you to be reminded of someone else. A memory that you wished to forget came flooding in.

~ You were staying at Max’s house for what you didn’t know would be the last time. As the two of you sat in his room talking of your latest double podium, a shatter of glass was heard. The second it did you saw the young boys face fall. It wasn’t until the screams were heard you understood why.

The overbearing words of an enraged man echoed though the house. As you looked over at Max, it only confirmed what you suspected. Even at such a much younger age you knew his father wasn’t the nicest man, however this was the first time you saw his true side. As the curiosity got the better of you, you opened Max’s door to go look at the damage. Any attempt he made to stop you were useless as you sat on the stairs staring into the kitchen.

The look on Jos Verstappen’s face was one that you would never forget. It was the look of a crazed, mad man who was willing to kill the next person that dared to even breath next to him.

As you turned to Max, he was meet with your face in tears. The sight hurt more than any words or actions Jos could ever use. He comforted you, took you back to his room and listened as you shook in fear of his father. In that moment Max held your face, looked you dead in the eyes and promised to you and himself that he would never become the monster that scares the girl he cared for the most. ~

As Max finally towered in front of you, he was shook at what he found. Up until now, you would always stand you ground in an argument. Not even recently when it had began to apply pressure to your friendship had you backed down. However he didn’t see the strong women he had grown to love, but instead a weaker shadow of you in tears. To add to the pitiful scene you stood with your arms up in a form of protection.

Max’s original anger at the race ending collision was all but there. His championship dominating attitude faded and all that was left was regret. It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together, and figure out that you state was due to his behaviour. The only time he had seen you like that before was your last ever sleepover. He also couldn’t ignore how much you had brought up the comparison between the father and son in arguments lately. This all however, was long enough for you to turn and run over to the marshals.

Red bulls number one driver was left by what maybe the resting place of his one true friendship. The very scene that you had just escaped. It had all gotten too much. This was the final straw. Much as Spain was labelled the death of Hamilton and Rosberg’s seemingly ever lasting connection, this would be yours and Max’s. Formula 1 had told the world that no compassion survives between rival teammates before, and it was trying to remind it once again.

The walk to the garage was the longest of your carrier. It wasn’t just because of the looming wrath of Christian Horner but overwhelming more due to that which loomed behind you. Max’s constant presence only made the whole situation worse. He was the years of memories that were still trying to cling on desperately. The dread that it had all gotten too much, and things between the two bulls would never be the same. The crushing wait of a heart beginning to crack at what it had been waiting for for over a decade fading out of view.

Finally getting back to the garage, the next hours flashed by. Your mind was too stimulated with stress and anxiety to process any going on. The one thing that got through was the repeating phrase…

“This is it”

Every warning was right. There was no way that you could beat fate. In the history of the world, no friendship has survived the pressure of true competition. Why did you think you would defeat it? Looking back at the day you two agreed to be teammates, you realise just how naive you were. No not naive, you were foolish and arrogant and stupid. You thought you could win a game against destiny, and now you would face the consequences. It was all o…

“Hey, it’s me, can I come in?”

There it is once again that painfully familiar voice broke your train of thought.

“Yeah sure”

In all honestly you don’t know why you say yes, he is the last person you wish to see right now. The reaction must have been a force of habit. As Max enters the medically room, you are both hit with the true weight of it all. He looks down at your stomach, whose scars from the twenty stitches you had had years a ago were visible. They were from a fishing accident, on a fishing trip the two of you went on. Max’s eyes softened looking at them, the memory coming back like one in the million others in the last feed hours. As you both looked up it was obvious you had both been crying.

This shocked you entirely yet not at all. The world’s young champion Verstappen wasn’t one for crying, and he was the one that you had hit the breaks on too soon causing all this mess. However, you knew that your maxie was a big crier. He cares so much about so much, but has the idiotic tendency to bottle it all up till it got too much and explodes.

That’s exactly what the both of you had done and you both know it. Neither wants to admit that the stress of the rivalry was becoming too much however. Admitting would be admitting you were losing, and the one thing your friendship was built on was not being allowed to lose. The consequence of this silence was hostility. Both of you had become more argumentative. It started small, slowly growing to a seeming hatred that all boiled over in todays race. Now both of you are placed in the medical room, red eyes not wanting to say the first words.

The question of wether you would fight past this and back to the childhoods friends, possibly more or if it truly was the end. You’re hearts are simultaneously asking, are we out of the woods yet?

Woooooo, well that was painful. Sorry not sorry. If you have read this I would appreciate it greatly if you would like and please do comment with feed back. Especially if you would like a prequel or sequel to this. Once again this was my first ever fic so probably wasn’t fantastic but I definitely enjoyed it. Thanks for reading !!! Please don’t copy this, not even with credit. Also no translations. Do feel free to reblog.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Catch Me If You Can

Jojo: where tf u at? called u like 10 times.

Me: ik. call you back inna minute, dam. chill out.

Jojo: best watch yo mouth if u know was good for u.

Me: why Jo? Not like you can do shit bout it rn..

Jojo: where are you y/n?

Me: atta party..

Me:

Jojo: lil girl, swear to God. Quit fuckin playin with me. Drop ur location.

Jojo: right fuckin now.

Me: naw, I'm good.

Jojo: Ma, you playin wit fire rn..

Me: catch me if you can.

I slide my phone into the back pocket of my mini ass shorts with an amused chuckle before grabbing Marie and tugging her to the living room to dance. It's dim and humid but fuck if I give a damn bout that while me and my girl roll our hips to the beat. [ https://youtu.be/e5RUsVqX37Q?si=00j1_Xqfpqf5Ov7C]

Whole vibe got me sweatin my edges out as we grind through 3 more songs; it's a miracle that I even see the front door swing open as I'm caressin and windin my body to the beat:

Marie and I make it out the back door by the skin of our teeth, giggling as we run cross campus to the next party. It's pitch black and freezing cold out side, but neither of us care as we fly through the brisk breeze. My booty shorts don't do a damn thing to help contain my ass as it jiggles wildly with each step.

We're both wheezing and clutching our sides for air as we fly through the door and slam it shut. It's cracking in here; place is packed with bodies, booze and laughter. Led lights flash allover the room as the music booms, clearly signaling a more lively atmosphere than the last place.

"Y/n! Marie!" Andre beckons us from the corner of room, sitting with his arm slung around Cate's shoulders as he holds up a blunt.

We make our way over, Marie immediately sittin down criss cross on the floor and explaining our narrow escape from Jordan as Andre lights the blunt. Its dark in here too besides the bouncing lights; the air is smoky as fuck in this corner of the room. No way I woulda seen Dre if he aint call out to us.

He takes a few puffs before handing the blunt to Cate. She takes a soft inhale before givin it to me. Just what I need after all that excitement.

I sit, taking deep pulls from the blunt before passing it to Marie. Blowin out the smoke slowly I cant help dippin back into my seat and closin my eyes as I let the tree go to work. It's so easy to let their voices surround me as I tune out their words. The fuzzy, warm sensation wraps my body in a hug, the welcoming high foggin my brain as I recline and laze into the couch.

I'm so relaxed into my vibe that I barely feel Cate tap my naked knee. I turn my head to look at her slender frame leaned into Andre's side.

"You better not let them know we knew where you are; Jordan don't play that shit. Marie might be screwed already but I'm not takin one for the team on this one." Andre says facing Cate, letting her shotgun his hit.

I smirk and close my eyes again before respondin.

"Fine.. Pussy."

"Oh so you extra tough now right? Huh ma?"

Daddy's voice is a low snarl in my ear as my eyes snap open wide. It's comical how quick my cowardly friends scatter as Jordan comes around the back of the couch to stand in front of me.

"Hi, Jordan. See ya y/n/n!" Marie chirps before disappearing into the darkness.

"Don't forget to come say bye before you guys leave." Cate says, dragging Andre off in the same direction.

I'm dying to escape with em, specially wit how Jordans starin at me. Bae look like she on demon time and I'm not sure if I can take whats comin. Got me hesitant to speak knowin I completely got caught slippin.

"Baby," I start sickeningly sweet. "You're here! I'm so happy. Marie said-"

Jordan's hand flashes out like lightening to grip my neck and pull me close. The squeeze makes each shallow breath difficult but the dark stoic gaze piercing my fuckin soul keep me from movin an inch. I do nothing more than limply hold at her wrist while she steps closer to press us nose to nose.

"Tell me one goddamn word that came outta Moreau's mouth. Go head, I fuckin dare you. You're gonna be fuckin sorry y/n."

I don't think I've ever been so quick to shut the fuck up. The silence stretches for a few momemts, makes me uneasy and I'm sure Jordan knows this. Knows every fuckin thing about me, about my body.

"I went through alotta fuckin trouble to find you, so I dont give a fuck what anybody else thinks, thought or fuckin said."

She uses the grip on my neck to slowly pull me from the couch and put me on my knees, refusing to lose eye contact as the other hand unbuttons her jeans. Full lips upturned at the corner inna smirk, button nose flared.. I already know the plans going through that maniacal mind, know what's comin next. I don't know what's pounding harder: my heart or my cunt.

"You listenin to what everybody else fuckin said but which one of them are here to save you now y/n?"

The cold hard wood floor presses against my smooth brown skin as I shift nervously, watchin as Jordan smoothly transitions. Doesn't even bother to check if anyone's looking as he pulls out his rigid leaky dick and repeatedly taps it across my mouth. Daddy stares down at me lookin absolutely furious, his breathing startin to accerlerate as he makes a mess on my face.

So lengthy and so fuckin angry, tip flushed the prettiest and deepest of pinks. Thick clear strings of precum smear allover my bare heart shaped lips as he humps forward over and over, doin the same to my cheeks. He looks fuckin anguished from arousal, but still so goddamn pretty as he uses me.

"You know how long I've been like this? How much I needed you? But you wanna play fuckin games. What bout when you need Daddy? Don't I always give you what you want?"

I know his questions are rhetorical, that if I continue with my earlier attitude that this only gets worst. Still my pussy clenches rhythmically as I lean into his touch, knowin regardless off my permission he's about to pay me back for my insolence.

"Jo pleeeease." I whine, utterly shamed and hoping he'll take me back to his dorm. "Somebody's probably watchin, let's go to your room."

"Naw, fuck that. Tongue out." He spits at me.

I comply at the drop of a dime, drooling a bit as Jordan slides the tip of his dick in and out of my mouth. My hands lay limply in my lap as he holds the sides of my face. Head tipped back, dark chocolate eyes still observing the prey at his feet as he moans loudly into the air. I know his antics are purposeful, hoping that someone hears and stumbles upon my punishment.

"And somebody- mmmmm, ohfuck, just like that, princess- is watchin honey. Wouldn't you wanna see a little brat like you get put in their place?"

The fluids drip from his cock to my tongue steadily as he uses it as a slip and slide. I curl my wet pink muscle on every pull out tryin to get an extra taste.

Even when they're not bein nice, I just wanna please em. It would be a lie if I said I didn't test his nerves jus to end up like this: pussy drippin wet and at their mercy.

"Know what? Mmm, ooooh baby girl, just like that.. I think you're pretendin you don't like bein watched. Hooooh fuck, think we both know it was just a matter of time before you showed everyone how much you love my cock."

His pace speeds; mean words and assault on my mouth make my body heat and pussy clench. Wetness plasters my thick brown thighs as i squeeze them together repeatedly for just a hint a pressure. If I wasn't in so much trouble I'd see if I could get away secretly fingering my clit but getting caught wouldn't be worth it. Daddy's pissed and I'd be dumb to test that.

"Jesus christ, thas it. Ahhh, fuuu- so good, ma, so fuckin good! Shit, put that snappy lil mouth to good use. Daddy'll show you how to talk to me nice sweetheart."

Jordan slides further inside my wet warm cavern, the slight curve of him makin me gag as I try to relax and breathe deeply through my nose. His balls, sticky with my drool, play a game of hit and miss as they occasionally slap my chin. The hold on the sides of my face graduate to one of his big hands with a strong grip in my hair, keeping me in place.

"Fuckin best lil dick sucker I ever meeeet! Should came back to the room baby. Mm fuck, mighta showed you some fuckin mercy."

The rhythm of him fuckin my mouth is so erratic and desperate. Poor daddy seems a bit distressed as grunts and groans turn to sexy whiny moans. I wanna hold em in my arms from how he trembles from the intense nut he's about to bust. The way he tosses his head back with tightly shut lids makes me a bit sad I can't see the pleasure in his beautiful eyes.

"Dammit, I'm so close ma. Yeeees, ohfuck. Uhn uhhhhh.. Get ready, bout to fill that pretty lil throat up with some cream!"

I refuse to shut my eyes shut and miss the way Jordan stills his hips, continuing to use the grip in my freshly styled hair to fuck my mouth on his dick. My eyes tear up but I struggle to blink them back, hoping to not leave this situation so fuckin messy. I moan at the thought of them ruining me, throat already sore from his treatment.

"Ahhhh here it is pretty.. Haaaah sh- feels 'mazin y/nnnn. Take it, mmmmm ahfuck! Thas it. Fuuuuuck!"

I'm so ready when I get the first thick, heavy blast. Takes an extra swallow but I get it down before the 2cnd gush of cum can choke me. Still, Daddy's shootin like I ain't already take 3 of his loads this morning before class.

His nut leaks from the corners of my mouth as he pushes in more, givin me a shot straight down my throat. Jordan finally looks back down at me as I struggle around him. He looks so fuck yummy: forhead wrinkled and covered in a light perspiration, a dazed stare in his eyes as his chest heaves for air, and a small smile on his slightly agape plump pink lips. I'm sure if they could could they'd be starin down at me with hearts in their eyes right now.

I can't be more relieved when he slides his dick out, wiping the remaining cum off from his tip on my tongue before stuffing himself into his jeans. I savor a few gulps of air as he pulls me to my feet. Daddy kisses my mouth messily, smacking my ass sharply and tellin me to go say goodbye to our friends.

Yeah the fuck right, with sticky tracks of pre cum smeared allover my God damn face? I can barely contain my eye roll as I turn to walk away. Even if my juices are streamin out my pussy down my leg, ima make em work for their next nut. So I'm out. It's so fuckin easy to pretend to head their way before makin a break for the exit.

"Anybody that recorded that, if I see that shit online or anyone talks shit to my fuckin girl, it's up. Bet on that." Jordan threatens nearby party goers before transitioning, taking confident measured steps toward my hasty retreat.

A/N: The link provided at the beginning of the story is to a music video on YouTube; its the song I envisioned while writing the fic. It's not needed to read it, it's just a lil peek inside the authors head.

[jolalibrary]

vi. believe in us

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter six of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. hints at smut. jo-feels. feelings realisation. things are getting deeeeep. Wordcount: 7.1k an: i know people tell me not to apologise for the length, but i'm trying to follow the episodes hahaha. if there are errors, i'm sorry. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who loves these characters as much as me and to @guyfieriii who lets me chew their ear off about them far too much to be real.

series masterlist

“Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re. 

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows. 

“We’re?”

“Having fun.” 

He feels his shoulders shrink, the earlier annoyance melting as if it was nothing—like it was never there. Replaced by something far harder to stomach, something which wrapped around his insides and yet didn’t constrict to hurt, just hung loosely, torturously there.

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

You throw him a sharp look—one made from a mixture of ice and a blade. “It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.”

But, what are we doing? He wants to ask, mouth opening all set to. His hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip, tightening his jaw as he realises this isn’t the time.

Not from the anxious way you’re biting at your lower lip, not in the way you’re hugging your arms close—not in how you occasionally flick your eyes to him, panic swirling, mixing with something he’s not sure he has the answers to help with.

It’s hard not to stare at the cup on your desk. 

The one sitting amongst the mindless chatter that blends with the dull, constant noise of a phone ringing and surrounded by the sounds of tapping—all at different speeds, intensities and types. The sounds circle around the speckles of dust, the ones swirling in with the sunlight, desperate to get in from the outside. 

Light tries, with all of its might, to kiss away the darkness. The one which clings to the walls. The dark wood, the walls—even the blinds. Desk lights are a permanent fixture if you plan to do anything but squint. Not that you mind.

You don’t need the sun to warm your cheeks, just the cup and its implications. 

The one grabbed in between dropping you home and him heading into the office; the one already waiting for you to get in. Your skin is still damp from your rushed shower—your body still sore from spending a night with him. 

It's easy, when it shouldn’t be—sleeping with him, your boss. All casual, fun and no strings but a whole twisted bundle of mess, too. One that would be so easy to worsen or fix. 

The coffee inside that cup doesn’t alleviate any of it. 

Not even as you try to tell yourself it’s nothing. The same way you do when you’re in the middle of something, and your eyes catch his, finding his usually coiffed hair has become frayed at the edges. It makes you want to go in and soothe away whatever has forced him to play with it. But you don’t, trying to hold yourself back—knowing what happens when you usually enter his office.  

“Everyone else has gone home.”“They have.” “So, do you want to have sex on your desk again?” He studies you, eyes dark, thumb tracing his jaw as you slide the fabric of your skirt up. Catching his brow raising, feeling your way up his tie, his body subconsciously moving between your legs. “Let you do it from behind this time,” you whisper. He turns you, running a hand up the back of your thigh, the other gripping your hip.“You thought about it… fucking me from behind, leaning over your desk?” His lips curl, breath along your cheek. “Every time your eyes look at me through the fucking blinds.” 

It had been messy since he’d showed up at your place, even if Javi hadn’t come to your house again. Instead, it’s his place—the office becoming risky. Even if the memories remain, to the point you’re unable to even be in the file room without some reminder flashing behind your eyes or hearing him whisper into your ear, Anyone else made you moan right here, cariño. 

The coffee had begun appearing on your desk when he dropped you off at home before heading in. A pretence, a suitable cover story. Arriving in two cars, leaving in two—no one knowing he drives to yours half an hour after he’s left to pick you up. 

You rarely have to miss the way he buries his nose close to your ear; how he lets his lips whisper silk into them—his broad chest hugging your spine. You barely have to think about his mouth between your thighs, you get to experience it. Not nightly, but close. 

“You gonna be quiet?”You pause, silence blanketing the two of them before you whisper, “No.”

You’re in too deep, that much is known. 

The house of cards the two of you had poorly built, were waiting to fall and crush you. The line having become so blurred and so knitted with emotions, you’re suddenly worrying why you’re not desperate to run from them.

Because you don’t want serious.

Having continued this because he never seemed the type. Wouldn’t have let it get so far if he did.

Now, you were finding it hard not to let yourself slip. Not just because he cared or because he toed doing right and wrong, or even because he was handsome. But rather, that there was something undeniably easy about him. It’s more than simple charm and grit—more than lingering eyes across a room and a feeling that blooms like wildfires in a field of nothing. 

You wonder if he knows, senses it: your unease. The way you flitter between letting him and banishing him. It’s why you stare at the coffee, unsure if today you should drink it. Reading the label, seeing no note—knowing there never is one. There not needing to be one. 

You know who purchased you the coffee. The same one who you sense behind you before he speaks, the one you stand up and turn to face—grabbing the white cup in your palm as you stare at him. 

Letting anger bubble to the surface, replacing the other emotions, the ones you spend far too much energy fighting than resolving. 

“I know what you’ve done.” 

Javi has the decency to look taken back. 

Even if you know each microexpression—having become literate in Peña, both the faux and the real. 

Stepping back, he cocks his head. An invite into his office, as if you ever needed one before. But, you follow—perfectly in step, able to read his body as if the two of you were back under the sheets. 

“What have I done then, cariño?”

“Don’t butter me up, Peña.” Lifting the cup in a demonstration, halting his smile before it grows into a smirk—half-wondering if you’ve been added to the list of women who have. “You think I wouldn’t hear about the phone tap?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening. “Stoddard…” 

“I know shit, Peña.” 

Stepping closer, you take a sip of the coffee. Instantly, you hate him for how good it tastes. That you know it’s from the place near yours, the one you foolishly told him about and now keeps going. 

Shaking your head, you sigh. “Stop hiding things from me.” 

“I wasn’t… fuck, you’re good.” 

“I know. Wish you’d stop being surprised by it.” 

His smirk always meets his eyes. Spreads across his cheeks—smoothing out worry lines and creates ones of beauty in its place. It’s hard not to notice, not with the way his eyes shimmer and how his lustful gaze wraps you in honey.  

“I’m not.”

Narrowing your eyes, you exhale. Loudly. Moving around him, staring over his desk—the many more files added onto the pile he hasn’t cleared, taking another sip.

“You are, and it’s deeply upsetting. I can’t take bullets for you, if you don’t tell me we’re going to be shot at.” Your hand picking up a file, shoving it into his chest. “Do I make myself clear?” 

His thumb swipes over his bottom lip, not hiding the way his eyes look you up and down. Slowly. Almost trawling them up and down you, lighting you on fire in the same way his tongue did last night. 

“Maybe I should have sent you to Cali? Have the rest of them caught before they know what hit them.” 

Your lips curl, a coldness falling over you—a twist in your chest, one you can’t fault him for, knowing he couldn’t be to blame. 

“Javi, you’d stop me before I even got in the air,” you bite back, the tease evident but the usual tone removed. “You’d miss having something to fuck other than your fist.” 

Sometimes, the day drags on, and others it hurls nothing but surprises. 

Today, you arrived to find both a coffee and a piece of fruit—making you smile so broadly that even Stoddard noticed. 

You blame that for the reason you don’t stop him from taking you by the elbow hours later—the first sign which should have rang alarm bells. Javi pulls you with him, saying nothing—feeling warm fingers along your elbow that make your heart skip a beat.

He leads you right through his doorway, your file clutching to your chest. It’s not until the door slides shut behind him do you realise all your thoughts are diluted, muted. His presence doing that. That and the fucking scent of him. The one you’ve come to despise washing from your skin the moment he drops you off, so the two of you can continue the story that he doesn’t spend random nights of the week fucking you into his mattress. 

The scent of him clings, a fixture. One which mixes so easily with the air, your nose becomes desperate to take it all in, as though if you don’t, it’ll all be wasted. 

You wait for him to shut the blinds, and enjoy a stolen moment, but find you watch as his hands slide to his hips. An unsettling feeling unwinding from a dark corner. Knotting, needling into you as you try to level your breathing. 

“Javi…” 

“Is Stoddard’s job meant to be yours?”

You notice his eyes don't move. Paying attention, fixated on your micro-expressions. 

“The day you first spoke to me. I asked you what they—“

Running your tongue across your teeth, you straighten your spine. “You asked what they gave me.” 

They cut, your words. Slice straight through whatever it is he’s implying. Halting whatever else was due to fall from his lips, stopping him from speaking as his lips clamp together, pinning him in place.

He lifts his chin, a hand coming to brush over his jaw and neck. “Were you offered Stoddard’s job, cariño?” 

You swallow, somehow able to keep your face unchanged even if your fingers twitch, your back relaxing, before you shake your head. It's easier to look away, the festering acerbity doubling as you turn your back to him.

“Yes.” 

He snorts. It's loud, quickly followed by the sound of his shirt moving as he likely runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Fuck. Why—why didn’t you… you should have told me. You fuckin' lied—“

You don't bother to smother the fury in your eyes, you throw it at him, burn him with it. “No. I didn’t lie, Peña. You asked what they gave me, implying I took it. I didn’t take it. I declined it, I resigned myself to shitting desk duty and let him have it.” 

His face doesn't change, not even under your stare. “You should have taken it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re fuckin' good, you’re… you do the right thing, you know everything that goes on in this place, cariño—“

“I’d have taken it. If I had earned it,” you spit, looking him up and down. “I’d have ripped it out of their goddamn hands and plastered my fucking name on that desk. But, it wasn’t offered to me because I’m good, because I know what I’m doing. It's a trap, a way to get me to stop... pushing, stop finding things. And you know it. You must do. Read all about it in the fuckin' file you have on me." 

It’s instant, the way his stare softens, panic spreading in his eyes. The way your words make him lose his breath, the tension shifting and transforming into something wounded—uprooted from the growing rage and apparent injustice he felt he’d faced. 

Smirking, you lick your own lips. "Yeah, Javi, I know about that too.”

He drops his arm, moving towards you, with no emotion in your eyes. “I don’t know shit because you won’t tell me.” 

You stare, coldly. Taking a second, a moment. Already knowing he can tell you’re rattled, stressed. You’ve allowed him to get close enough to be able to tell. He knows what makes you tick, what undoes you—what makes you go from one to a hundred.  

Transferring his skill at reading people to you, likely creating some encyclopaedia solely dedicated to just your micro-expressions. In the same way, he has written mental papers about what a flick of his tongue or a nip of his teeth can do. Never mind the little things that make up your mood. 

“Lemme guess, Stechner?” you ask, folding your arms as he nods. “Maybe you should ask him why they wanted me to take the job, Peña. Because I’m not the one who lied.” 

He sighs, nothing being said as you slowly swallow. 

“I can’t tell you shit—I… I thought I made that clear.”

“You can tru—“

“It’s not about trust, Peña.” 

It comes out harsher, more like fire than ice. 

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms… whimpered pleading, panicked breaths. Blood-splattered walls and shredded bedding…

You sigh too, softer, less loud. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I may not tell you everything, but…” You roll your lips, staring around the glass room. “Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re. 

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows. 

“We’re?”

“Having fun.” 

The words hurry out, even if you hate them. They’re not the right descriptors, but you’re not sure which ones would be better. Not now. Not when it had gone too far. With true having already slithered its way through openings that shouldn’t exist. Having moulded itself into creating something less carnal and more needed. So much so, the list of excuses are running short, finding only reasons why you keep letting him in then why you should keep him away. 

The truth of it all is so easily there, simmering and ready. Yet, you don’t allow them to escape, not needing to show him your hand—to let him see how easy it has been to weave under your walls and layers. Especially when you’ve spent so much time keeping him out. 

Then you see his eyes, how they’re wide but hardened, his lips clamped together, tight. Your walls are threatening to quiver and fall at the sight. 

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

“It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.” 

You watch as his mouth opens, but no words come. Just his hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip as his jaw tightens—sliding from side to side.

Shaking your head, you banish it—what his words would have been, what they could have been. The back of your hand against your forehead. “Shit…”

“What?”

You laugh. More hysterical, more out of surprise and acidic emotions as you process—slower than normal, going as far as to pinch your forearm to see if it’s real. 

“He has me over a barrel. One wrong move… it all comes down.”

Javi steps closer to you, fingers on your cheek, lifting your eyes to his. “Wait, what?”

You don’t mean it, the look of disbelief, but it flurries across your face—unable to mask it quickly enough. “C’mon, Javi, you don’t think now if you defend me, if you argue with them, ask them for anything related to me, they won’t think it’s because I snaked my way into your bed? Because newsflash, that’s how things work, Javi. Women—good women—get plastered with only being half as good because of the company they keep.” 

You run a hand over your mouth as you pull away from him, slowly sinking down into a chair as you bury your face. 

For a second, you can hear him not move, just breathing. A sound you’re so used to finding calming as night blankets his room. When you’re frozen out of fear of waking him. Now you’re frozen because you're unsure what to do. No plan B. No get-out clause you’ve created for yourself. 

“Cariño…”

“You don’t get it, Javi. You haven’t dated someone in your workplace and had them gossip about you like women have. When you fuck around, you’re a hero. If I do it, if women do it….” His jaw tightens, all noticeable, running his own fingers over his chin. “It doesn’t matter if I’m good, I’m not a man. It’s why I was the one gossiping about when things ended with Chris, when I got back from Cali and was deemed unstable. Now, sleeping with you?”

“Hey—“

“You know, if he fucked his way through the department, no one would bat an eyelid. I do it, I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

He moves, crouching before you, pressing his hand over the top of your knee. “But you’re not.” 

Smiling, you sigh softly, leaning back into the chair. “No. No, I’m not.” 

He tightens his hand on yours. 

“You have places to be...” 

He looks at you through his lashes, whispering your name. Making it sound gentle, nice.

Blinking, you harden your face. Tightening your jaw as you lift your chin. “I don’t need your pity, Javi. I… I’m a grown woman, who I choose to fuck shouldn’t matter, not when it’s nothing serious—“

“—Look—“

“—I just need you to do your job, Peña.” You stand, his hand falling from your knee, face void, empty. Expression wiped from all corners of his face. “Because all of this, between us, isn’t worth undoing all the work we’ve done—you have done.” 

Your feet move you to the door on shaky legs, hands almost trying to tremble by your sides—clamped down firmly at your sides to stop them. Thinking of Cali, thinking of her.

Graffiti-covered walls; scarlet clinging to matted curls. 

He says your name. Calls it louder than he should—the one he whispers when he’s holding you in place on top of him, the one he groans against your ear when you’re pinned under his weight. 

It’s different hearing it here—with a vulnerable tinge to it, a pleading one. It’s why you don’t stop..

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms…

You hate yourself—that you let it merge into this, let it develop, twist and mature. 

Leaving before he finished a meeting, heading home and turning out the lights as wine soaked your throat in the dark. It was easier, you lied to yourself—feeling the hole opening up inside of you as you tried to sew yourself closed. 

He doesn’t avoid you, like you try to avoid him. 

Involving you, pulling you in to listen to the wiretap as though you’ll have some added opinion on it—an insight they’ve not thought of. Your argument-not-argument mouldering in the corner, Stoddard blissfully unaware. Either that or he’s become a good actor.

Your silence is telling, not meeting his eyes is a further statement. 

A slither of you mad that instead of admitting he means something, you try and convince yourself it’s the exact opposite. Further worsening it when you allow him to leave, to go—on some inane advice that has been drilling a hole in your chest since the moment he left. 

“Where are you off too?”“Gonna give something a push.”It drops, plummets—your gut. Lands right at your feet in a mess you’re not sure how to clean up. Shuffling the transcripts in your hand, you paint a smile. Having become a professional at it, well-taught, well-practised. “What?”You must give him a look, one which screams volumes because his expression softens. Plus, he’s lingering. Shifting his weight, brows slowly dipping, that same line appearing. —and now he knows we’re…We’re?Having fun.“Do that thing with your tongue…” you say, voice cracking, but you hope you style it. Even if he’s narrowing his eyes as he looks you up and down. Even if it takes all of you to force your lips into a grin. “It would get me to talk.”“You’re—““Wonderful, amazing—brilliant?”“Frustrating.”You hand him a transcript. “Clockwise, then anticlockwise. Have a good afternoon, sir.” 

He’s been back an hour. 

Hiding in the shut-blind room with Stoddard, fighting all temptation to go in there even if you’d been invited. An excuse flows from your tongue before you stop it, dipping your head to drive it home—feeling the hole widen to a crater in your chest.

Choosing to sit in the sidelines—more than you already do—rather than listen to the ways he got the information needed, even if you’re the one who pushed him to begin with. Especially when you’re aware of his past. 

It’s why it grates—peels. Finding yourself standing exposed and fearful, afraid he can see through it all and knows that you care. Something you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let happen. 

You’re so lost in it, your apparent failure—your confused feelings—you don’t notice the shadow over your desk until the mug is placed down in front of you. Barely able to blink, staring at it before looking up at him. Tapping your pen, scrunching your lips as you narrow your gaze. 

“What’s this?” 

“A peace offering.” 

Leaning back, you sigh. “We’re fine, Peña.”

He smirks—knowingly. As though he’s rifled through your mind and found all the evidence attesting how much of a lie that is. 

You’re usually better. Harder to read and less easy to predict, but then, most people hadn’t snapped your underwear from your thigh and pocketed it before they made you come undone on their sofa. 

“Fine, I need a favour.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes. “Here we go.” 

“Do you fancy calling the SLS?” 

Your brows lift, smirking. “I do not.” 

And he knows it too. Which is why he’s standing—smirk present, delicious brown eyes softening just the amount to make him look cute and docile. Like a fucking puppy. 

“You fancy sharing the number?” 

Snorting, you glance down at your papers. “You don’t fancy asking your deputy for that information?” 

Resting his palms on your desk, you still hear him lick his lips and catch the sight of it just as you look up. “Please, cariño.” 

You should torture him. Make him wait. 

For no reason other than to grasp some form of control over the situation. Everything unravelling, things mixing and blending where they shouldn’t be. Emotions which should be firmly out of this, very much in the centre, doubling, tripling—

“Fine,” you groan, grabbing your notebook of numbers and a scrap bit of paper. 

He smirks, almost grinning. “I could kiss you.” 

“I wouldn’t. Had garlic for lunch, and… you’ve likely had your fill for the day. Right?”

“Jealous?” 

Yes. Your face blanks, hiding the answer which hurries its legs to your tongue—the one which has been burrowing a hole in your chest since he’d gone earlier. 

The one, you suspect, is the reason most people are avoiding you today. The very thing which is forcing you to carve the tip of your pen into the paper and almost through the desk. 

Leaning, you tap your pen against the desk. “Only if you did the tongue move on her, Javi.”

“The one you suggested?” 

You snort, handing him the piece of paper as you stand. 

“Is that all, Peña?”

His smile drops, soft at first—just at the edges. And then, all at once. It falls from his eyes, concern weaving into his forehead and brows as you stand, grabbing some files, not even sure which ones, as you begin to straighten them on your desk. 

You should smile, smirk. Laugh it off. But, it’s balling up in your throat—tasting like acid and regret, getting heavier and heavier as it trickles down to your tongue and the back of your teeth. 

“Remember I’m leaving early today,” you announce, more clinical, more formal. “So if you require further help, Neil can help.” 

You almost wince, almost. Able to stop yourself as Stoddard’s first name falls from your tongue. The one you never use. The one which doesn’t suit leaving your lips as you step around your desk. 

And you pray he doesn’t grab you, doesn’t place his palm on your forearm or cup your elbow. You hope he doesn’t lead you to his office, force you to talk until you’re cracked open and wading in feelings you’d rather bury.  

He doesn’t. 

Stepping back as he nods. Firm. Detached. 

Exactly what you want… yet it hurts. It wounds. It nicks tiny cuts into your skin so it stings in the office air and bleeds you slowly.  

Usually, you hate being home. But tonight, it’s lively.

Almost like it once was. It's all bathed in music, laughter and steam. So lost in it, the freeness of normalcy, you don’t expect it to be him when you send Matías to open the door. 

It doesn’t even cross your mind until you hear Matías greeting the male voice, the one your body knows quicker than your mind, feet carrying you to the hallway for his eyes to land on you. 

Eyes that find you over the bare, shirtless shoulders of Matías—the dish in your hand almost toppling as you take a breath, throat dry. Suddenly racking your brain, all lightheaded, wondering if the two of you had made plans that you’d forgotten about. 

“Javi?”

“Hey, I was—I should—”

Matías turns, staring at you. 

Giving you that look, the one you normally are able to shut down but find difficult with the evidence presented in front of you. Aye, you’re not interested in complications, huh? 

All you can do is narrow your eyes. Please, do not make this more uncomfortable. 

He wants to—you can tell. The same look on his face that you used to see on another. One that almost mirrors it, reminding you of game nights and far too much alcohol you still don’t know the name of. Thankfully, he takes pity, not pushing, turning back to speak to Javi directly. 

Your boss.

“Matías…”

He’s not listening. Explaining he’s going—that the two of you are done anyway. His Spanish is so quick, it takes a second for your mind to translate, making it too late to interject. 

Not that you can think—not as Javi’s eyes drag up and down your legs, suddenly very aware of the short-shorts and the amount of thigh on show. How it looks bad. All of it. 

You’re aware of it. 

Even if there’s no reason to worry, this is nothing. A lie you don’t believe but continue to hum to yourself like a tune you can never get out of your head. 

You feel Matías kiss your cheek, soft, hand on your shoulder as he does. “He’s cute. Be good, senorita. You deserve good.” 

His words take a second, the Spanish flowing into your ears as he takes the dish from your hands—the one which has warmed your palms to almost burning. His t-shirt draped over his shoulder, looking far too smug for someone who doesn’t know how to cook anything. 

It’s not until he walks past Javi do you move, do you unfreeze and find your feet can move from their position on your tiled floor. 

Running the back of your hand against your forehead, you sigh. “Hello?”

“Hi.” 

You snort. “Come on in.” 

Even though he’s been here before, it feels different. It’s less sad and pathetic, wine in your glass for a reason not to bury the day but rather energise it. The air is humming with scents, spices and the sound of upbeat music playing from some distant corner. Your lights are on, and low, adding an ambience to your place that could be seen as odd for two friends who have been merely laughing and cooking. 

You spot him taking it all in, eyes dragging across walls, ornaments and photo frames he clearly didn’t take in last time. A smile threatens to spill out until he lands on the half-full wine glass and the very much empty one.

You move, heading into the small kitchen, moving things, tidying. A need to keep busy as you throw a cloth over your shoulder. 

“So—” 

“He’s my neighbour, Javi.” 

He relaxes—you hear it. From the soft exhale through his nose to his muscles practically untightening from his bones.. A part of you sighs in relief that he believes your truth. The jealousy falls from the air as though it was never there, to begin with.  Javi points at the sink. “You want a hand?”

It’s the way he looks at you that undoes you. His eyes are all soft again, so genuine. No ulterior motive currently. Not here to talk about work or have any discussion to do with drugs, money laundering or death. 

Smiling, you shift your weight on your legs. “You any good?” 

“I do alright.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughs, and it shouldn’t be the sweetest sound—but it is. Especially like this, lighter, more heart filled. “My mama raised me well, bonita. I know how to take care of a home—grew up on a ranch, actually.” 

“You’re a rancher, huh?” 

He smiles broader as you lean against the counter, blocking the sink. 

“Damn straight.” 

“Not your current profession, though, is it? Because I know that’s currently being a pain in my ass.” 

He nudges you, stepping around you as he dips a finger into the water to check its temperature, splashing your skin with parts of it as he gets close. “I can be a pain in your ass, cariño. Just say the word.” 

You smirk, grabbing a towel trying not to watch as he rolls his sleeves up, your throat drying again—but for completely different reasons. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Nodding, he mumbled a quick, “You got it,” one quickly buried under a held-back laugh that slowly leaves your lips. It partially merges with a breath, the rest falling into the air, settling. 

The first dish handed to you, taking it from him with far too much ease, as though this is normal. As if him being here is normal. 

It feels it as the drums fade into piano keys. As you take a bowl this time, drying it until you place it down, another laugh emerges in your throat that greets the air. 

“What?”

Shaking your head, you take the next plate from him, glancing at the bubbles which slide down the porcelain surface. “Javi Peña is washing my dishes. And it’s not even a euphemism.” 

He has a beautiful smile. One you’re sure by now you count paint with your fingers if you were any sort of artist. You’d thought it was nice the moment he first let you see it. But, you find it's his smirk that does the most damage to you—undoes something in you. 

He searches for the next dish in the steaming water, bubbles sliding around his wrists and forearms, hairs clinging to his skin as you try not to let your ears burn as he keeps glancing at you, noting the implication—the realisation. 

“I can bet my entire next paycheck that you’ve done a lot of things in women’s kitchens, but not done the dishes.” 

His eyes glint under the lights, holding your gaze as you feel your bare cheeks warm under them. You know that look, it’s the undoing of all your sensibility. It quiets the voice that says the two of you should stop, not needing to create more mess, more complication. 

One you usually banish away with your lips. 

“I like my kitchen sanitary,” you comment, nudging him. “Eyes on the dishes, Peña.”

“So, the neighbour?”

“A friend of a friend—who lives across the street. So, partial-neighbour.” He nods, but you know that’s not what he wants to know. Can tell, slowly finding him so easy to read. “And he’s surprising his boyfriend with a cooked meal—I offered my kitchen.”

Javi smiles, brushing the sponge over a plate. “You do cooking lessons then?” 

“No. But, he looked out for my place, when I was…” Your eyes drop to the glass in your hand. “He’s a good guy, and it gave me something to do other than fucking my boss.”

“Sounds like a professional boss.” 

“Got a great moustache, though.” 

The two of you not saying anything more until you're done. Occasional glances, tension thrumming, vibrating. Some threads of it want to abandon washing and kiss him; other threads want to ask him why he's here.

The thought recurring as you eventually hand him a drink, watching him sit down on your sofa, as you join him. Purposefully sitting a seat away from him. 

You’d chosen something less uptempo, more gentle as the air fills with piano keys and soft lulling voices. It follows the same ambience as the lighting. A perfect match—a solid blend. The room bathed in warm yellow and pretty gold, his red shirt standing out, but he’d stand out all the same. 

Even if it feels normal—usual. 

Javi always shines a little bit brighter in your eyes. 

Each gesture, each expression always noted—your eyes struggling to break from him. It’s why you notice his fingers gesturing for your legs, studying you as you smirk and throw them up, drinking from your glass of red as berries stain your lips. 

All you can think about is him tasting them—sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip until your spine is pressed into the cushions of your sofa. You’d not ruined your sofa with him, hadn’t had him between your thighs here. 

From his quietness, he’s thinking something too. 

Something which makes him drag his eyes up and down your legs, makes his hand go from drawing a shape to sliding the tips of them up and down your calf. 

“You think loudly, you know that?”

He laughs, and it’s beautiful. Nothing held back, letting it flow from his throat to your ears. 

“First time I’ve been told I think, cariño.”

It’s easy to smile around him. He halts the thoughts which run so free and wild in your head, only somewhat deafened when he’s not. 

“You need to talk about work or…” 

He snorts, taking a long sip. “Talking about anything would be good for me, cariño.” 

You feel guilty for it. How you use him—even if you’re sure he’s been using you too. Both running from something, both trying to dull whatever it is living on both your shoulders. Although, you weren’t sure if it was the same now. 

Foolishly, you had ruined it, tampered with it in his office. Changed things. Began pulling on the thread until you toppled it all over days ago. Now you worry he’ll want more than you can give him. Need more from you than you have spare to share with him. Not at all sure how you allowed emotions to slip through the net. How things having gone from simple fucking to wanting to have your legs over his lap—to him washing dishes and drinking whiskey in your glass. Whiskey you bought for him, even if he never really came here. 

A just-in-case purchase. 

“Okay… you tell me one thing, and then I tell you one thing.” 

You think of Van Ness, of the many ways he had tried to get information out of you as you lay vertically in bed, unwilling to sleep and refusing to eat. A game he presented, frustration stitched into his forehead, but a determination fermenting in his bones. 

Dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, he nods, half-smiling. “Alright.” The tip of his fingernail tapping against your lower leg. “I’ll bite.”

Swirling your glass, you eye him over it. Thinking.

Trying to unpick why it’s normal, why it doesn’t feel odd that he didn’t call, that he just showed up and fits in all so well. The answer there, hanging in the corner—the evidence hammering against the walls you force yourself to throw up. 

You know why; you know how.

“Tell me something you’re ashamed of, that I wouldn’t already know.”

He sniggers, looking down, staring at the melting ice cubes in his glass. “But, you already know so much about me and my past mistakes.”

“Yeah, well,” you add. “You’re a fascinating read.” 

From the way he’s not lifted his chin, there’s something.

One big thing he’s thought up instantly. One that makes his broad shoulders tense and his jaw tighten. A secret, a regret, that likely comes out when he’s stuck in traffic—which has kept him up at night. A thing which makes him as reserved as you. 

“I almost got married once.”

“Yeah?”

“Left her… I left her at the altar.” 

You look at him, not moving your leg from over his lap, continuing to sip the wine. Not wanting to move, not wanting him to stop—

“Saw her. Before coming out here. Made me glad I did it, y’know? She’s happy—got a husband, kids.” 

His fingers strum against your leg. 

Clearing your throat, you place your glass down on your thigh. “You should be glad you didn’t marry her because you clearly didn’t want to.” 

“That too.” 

You add nothing more. Silence wrapping its heavy hands around you both as he begins to lightly tap quicker against your leg, taking the smallest of sips, waiting for you.  

“If I were her, I’d be embarrassed, but grateful.” He lifts his chin, staring at you from the side as you tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t want someone to marry me because of obligation—I’d want them to choose me because they wanted me.”

His lips twitch, likely turning over your words, really considering them before nodding. It’s quick. Enough to make a piece of hair he’s been playing with fall over his forehead.  

Then, he relaxes, shoulders meeting the back of your sofa as he slides his fingers in softer, slower circles on your leg. 

“Your turn.” 

Smiling, you lean back into your cushion. “What do you wanna know?”

It dances in his eyes: Everything. 

Likely wishes to crack you open and see all of it. All the things not in his piss-poor file and the things not whispered around the office. 

Probably what happened in Cali and why you have resigned yourself to a desk. Why you entered his office that first day, why you’re— 

“Why’d you and Fiestl end things?” 

“That’s what you want to know?” 

Javi shifts his hips under your legs, licking his bottom lip. “I don’t want to ask something that you’re not willing to share. Want you to trust me.” 

You chew that, whatever words you had been rearing and desperate to say wilting away. Instead, you place your glass down on your coffee table. Clearing your hands. 

“Wasted question, but okay. I think, if we were honest with one another, we weren’t happy before I left for Cali. We’d… argued quite a bit. Even moved some of my things back.”

Swallowing, you stare off a little. Finding the scuff on one of the stools against the kitchen side. The one which had gotten caught on your bag one day, having flung to the floor and been scuffed against the kitchen tile. 

A reminder—a slither of something to show it was all real, and not make-believe. 

“Sometimes things heal when you leave them alone. Sometimes they worsen—the crack deepens,” you continue. “Ours was the latter. It’s hard when you’re competing—when you’re all trying to stand out—to get the good jobs. Cali to him meant more, but it was me who was sent. So…” 

You’re aware of his hand stroking up and over your knee. Waiting, letting the pieces of your story knit together like a puzzle he’ll unravel later. One you used to try and figure out, nights bleeding into day and still never close to solving. 

Further shattering when Cali took any chance of salvation. 

“You also don’t…really come back the same. Do you?” 

He waits for a beat, one which makes it feel all that much worse. “No.” 

You let out a shaky breath, reaching back for your glass, draining it. Removing your legs from him, considering curling them up under you as you try to smile.

It’s too much—him, being this close. 

Knowing if he looks hard enough, he’ll see all the imperfections covered so well with nice clothing and a hard stare; he’ll see the parts of you that have healed wrong, and the wounds which are still open. 

Yet, you want him closer. 

A part of you—the one without sense and any semblance of worry. The part which calls to him, that worries for him, that has begun to care more than you should ever have done. 

It’s why you take his glass before moving over him, leg on either side of his thighs, staring down into his eyes and allowing him the chance to stare into yours. 

They’re always soft, and warm—sometimes with a darkness that you hope sweeps over you, sometimes full of sparkles and lust. Other times, they’re wired with energy, almost vibrant as his mind turns and his brain concocts. 

It’s why he’s a good agent. Why he thinks ahead, why you know he’s not going to stop. 

You trace up his neck with your index finger, finding yourself being studied all over again.

“Why’d you come round, Javi?” 

Your lips are so close to his, the scent of whiskey mixing with the spices from the food you’d been cooking earlier, hanging all heavy in the air around you both. 

Slowly, he places his hands on your hips. “Think it’s my turn to ask a question, cariño.”

But, you don’t say anything. 

Watching him, sliding two fingers along his jaw, holding his gaze, watching his resolve screw up like a piece of paper. 

“I wanted you to know that I didn’t sleep with her. Didn’t take your advice about my tongue.”

You don’t move, fingers halting on his cheek. 

A thread strummed inside of you, forcing your lips to slide into a smile and your eyes to hold his. 

“That’s an odd thing to tell your secretary.” 

“You’re not my secretary.” 

You grin, and you can tell he wants to kiss it. About the same amount as you want to press your mouth to his and your body against his until you only hear your name. The one he says so often. 

“Are you trying to tell me I’m the only one, Peña? Is that it?”

Flicking your eyes over him, he slowly licks his lips. Your hips are desperate to roll, your body needing friction as he flicks his eyes from your mouth to your eyes, before placing his palms on your thighs. 

They’re warm. Soft. Slowly and torturously fanning each finger out over the skin as you lightly inhale—loud enough for him to hear. 

“Maybe I am.” 

It’s thick, the tension. Both of you are waiting, staring, unsure who’ll snap first. 

So he adds, “I’m not sleeping with anyone else, cariño.”

He watches you, and how his words land. See something flicker in his eyes, something pleading—something you want to answer but find the words can’t come. 

It’s just you, too. 

You will them. Almost want to shout them, but instead, you offer, “Kiss me.” 

“You sure?” 

Your eyes close, sliding your palms up his cheeks. “How long till your flight?”

“Few hours.” 

Opening your eyes, you burn the words into him. It’s just you, I hate it, but it’s you and only you. “Please kiss me, Javi.” 

And he does. 

chapter seven ->

[f0point5]

controversial: Antonelli is overrated and nowhere near as good as Max is. everyone keeps sayin "yo, he's Verstappen re-born"... guys. this boy was held by hand by Toto Wolff since karting and his way to Formulas was cleaned from any stick or stone so he wouldn't God forbid stumble. Max had to fight it hard way, plus his dad obviously didn't make it any easier (not saying I hate Jos for that, I just don't agree with his parenting style). if Antonelli comes the next year to Merc because TW is so desperate to show everyone that he no longer cares he lost Max cause he made his own, the performance expectations from Antonelli will be so high that him being freshly eighteen, growing up in the pressure of social media... it will destroy him. this is the example of not rushing things otherwise you can damage them before they could show their full potential.

Well. WELL.

He is obviously nowhere near the level Max is now, but when Max entered F1? Idk, probably not, but also, you don’t have to drive like Max to be a phenom. Max was 1 in a million and maybe this kid isn’t as immediately polished, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the stuff to be an incredible driver.

I don’t know about Kimi’s karting record but by all accounts is extraordinary. No, he’s not setting the world alight in f2 but having watched some f2 this year I’m not about to base all my opinions on that.

It depends what you mean by Max didn’t have it easy. He didn’t have barriers to entry to the sport, he didn’t have parents who wanted anything different for him, he didn’t have parents who weren’t committed enough to drive him around Europe. He had a team of people around him from day 1 who grafted like hell for him and made sure he was not a victim of snake oil salesmen and people who wanted to make money off him or would have pushed him around. So no I’m not saying he had it easy from a personal development side but he did get to make racing his whole life from a very young age, and he had people around him who only had his best interests at heart. Not everyone has that. I can only hope Kimi has the same strong unit around him.

From what I understand, Max advanced as quickly as he did because however much he needed to do to win, Jos was pushing him ten steps further. Max learnt to ignore the noise because Jos was making most of it. It seems that Kimi has grown up differently. But let’s not forget that Kimi’s dad is also a racer, it’s not like he’s just been catapulted into the sport straight from Toto’s laboratory.

I don’t think having had Toto’s support and not having been forged in hellfire means his success or talent isn’t valid.

That being said, I do hope he has a good support network and they insulate him from the media chatter as much as possible. Because yes that will ruin him very quickly.

I think more than anything what will ruin him is not going to F1 too early, but going to the wrong team. I think those with talent will swim, because at the end of the day with enough testing you can learn how to drive the car and if you’re talented and you’re fast you’ll be fine. But what you don’t want is an 18 year old kid being pushed and pulled from pillar to post by a TP who expects a well rounded driver from day 1, and who will allow the kid to be brow beat by overzealous stewards and bullied by other drivers in track. Imo Toto will not stand up for a young driver in the way he will need to and that is what will damage a kid’s confidence and career prospects. So yeah, there’s an argument for leaving him in F2 until he’s had long enough to not make the mistakes that come with being an inexperienced driver. But I’m not sure if any amount of F2 can really prepare you, look at Logan (I could go on because my beef with f2 is REAL).

All this to say, I don’t know if he’s overrated. I think the comparison to Max is not helping him but it also doesn’t invalidate his potential. Max has really fucked the curve for young drivers I think. But I do think that the worry about ruining him is a bit uncharitable the way it’s often presented, especially in a climate where the fear around young drivers is really causing a bottleneck getting into F1. I think the right team wouldn’t ruin a real talent. I don’t think Merc is the right team but that’s just me.

[todayisafridaynight]

//trying to remind her what sawashiro's name is//

'ok ill give you a hint his name's involved with my favorite joke'

'balls?????'

theres a joke here about how thats not right but also topically correct but point is im going to shake her

Dumbass friend just compared nanba to shadow the hedgehog the prophecy is fulfilled

[galatially]

❝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 x 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — my gaze lingered, waiting for you to notice me; how far would bucky barnes go to get the attention of his favorite tutor?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 3.5K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, thigh riding, oral (fem receiving), idiots in love

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — my old page did not deserve the fics i had written for it, lol. because this was fucking cute

“…hello? James?” 

Fingers snapped in front of his line of sight. He blinked and saw your brown eyes in front of him, your full lips fixed into a frown. 

“You asked me here, remember? I have my own midterms to study for.”

Bucky smiled, broad and smug. “You know you love bein’ around me, Y/N/N.”

“Please stop calling me that. Only people from home call me that.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “Can I call you sugar?”

You gave him a flat look. “You can pay attention to this study guide I spent all night drawing up for you.”

Bucky blew out a breath, turned to the notes in front of him, and studied. For ten minutes. He looked over at you. The tip of your tongue peeked from between your plush lips as you scrawled out notes with one hand and flipped through your textbook with the other. 

When had he ever been so entranced by someone before? 

“Looking at me isn’t going to help you pass your Calculus II midterm,” you chided. 

“I’m hungry. You?”

You set down your pen, a thick brow arched. “If we break for food, will you let me study?”

A wolfish grin stretched across his face. “Among other things.”

“Fine.” You slammed your textbook shut and gathered your things. “Meet me at Daly’s in fifteen.”

Bucky nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. “See you in fifteen.”

Fridays at Daly’s were your least favorite nights.

The small pub couldn’t have held more than one hundred people but everyone seemed to want to pack in like sardines. Whiffs of cologne, floral perfume, and body odor intermingled with the smell of bar food and alcohol. 

You sat at the bar, nursing a glass of pear and apple cider, eyeing the door for signs of Bucky. You raised your phone and surveyed the screen: half past eight. 

He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago! 

You sighed and took a sip of your drink. 

“Hey, Y/N/N.” 

Your childhood friend, Steve Rogers, took the stool beside you, his blue eyes bright. 

“Hey, Stevie,” you said, smiling. “What brings you here? I thought you had a study group tonight.”

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re taking a break to get some food and then heading back to my dorm. What about you? You not tutoring tonight?”

“I was. But my student wanted food and now he’s late.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”

“You even got dressed up,” the blond remarked. 

Your face warmed. “No, I didn’t!” Compared to what you normally wore, your fitted black jeans and lacy crop top were dressier. And maybe you dusted your favorite highlighter along the apples of your cheeks and swiped some of your trusty lipgloss on your lips. 

You didn’t do it for James Barnes. Far from it. 

“I just felt like getting a little cute, Rogers! Is that so bad?”

He put his palms up, a smirk on his lips. “I’m just saying you look mighty fine for someone you view as just a student.”

You took another sip of your cider. “I don’t think anything of James.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. “James? As in Bucky Barnes?”

“Why does everyone call him Bucky? That’s such an odd nickname.”

“It’s short for Buchanan,” a voice answered. 

You and Steve turned and saw the man in question standing behind them. His brown eyes were hard as they looked between the two of you. “It’s my middle name. Everybody calls me Bucky.” He tipped his chin to Steve. “‘Sup, Rogers?”

“Yo,” Steve said, throwing him a two finger salute. He stood up from his barstool and turned to face Jo. “Text me later, okay? Let me know you got home okay.”

“I can get her home just fine.”

You shot Bucky a glare. “Yeah, okay, Stevie. Have fun with your study group.”

Steve pressed a kiss to your temple and gave a short nod to Bucky before disappearing into the crowd of coeds. 

“You and Rogers, huh? Didn’t peg you for the type,” Bucky said.

You narrowed your eyes. “And what type is that, James?”

“The girl that falls for the blond-haired, blue-eyed, all-American type.”

“Not that it’s any of your business who I spend my time with, Steve and I have been friends since grade school. He’s practically my brother.” 

His face softened. “I’m sorry, sugar. I didn’t know.”

You shrugged. “You never asked.” You knocked back the rest of your drink and slammed a ten dollar note on the bar. “Good night, James.” You slid off of the barstool and pushed past him. 

A hand gripped your wrist. “Y/M, wait. I’m sorry. I know I’m late but I can explain.”

You didn’t need an explanation, you didn’t care. Why should you? You weren’t even really friends. Glorified acquaintances at best. But despite yourself, you turned to face him, a dark brow raised. “Well? Spit it out.” 

“I was nervous.” Under the dimmed lights, you saw his cheeks turn red. “Can I be totally honest with you? I don’t need your tutoring.” 

You frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I signed up for your study sessions to get closer to you.” He took hold of your hand and threaded his fingers between yours. “I’ve been trying to find a way to get you to notice me and I figured that getting your help with a class was a good way.”

“Why go through all of that trouble, though?”

“Y/N.” Bucky looked you up and down. “I like you.”

Your jaw went slack. Did you hear him right? “You…like me?”

He tugged your arm and pulled you into his chest. His right thumb skimmed along the curve of your bottom lip. “I was pissed when I saw Rogers talking to you. Looked like you two were close.”

“We are,” you said, your voice hoarse. 

“Closer.”

You shook your head, your earrings hitting your cheeks. “Steve’s like a brother to me and I’m a sister to him. He’s dating a girl named Sharon from back home. She’s a Sociology major.” 

“Good to know.”

Bucky’s touch scorched your skin. When did his his free hand go to the small of your back? You couldn’t remember the last time a guy’s touch made you feel this way, if ever. But here you were, in James Buchanan Barnes’ arms in the middle of a dingy pub. 

“James, I — ”

“Have I ever told you I love when you call me James?” A slow smirk made its way onto his lips. “You make it sound so sensual. Sexy.” Your mouth dried. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, dazed.

“You’ll see.”

You had never put much thought to how Bucky’s dorm would look but you were surprised to see that he and his roommate were clean and organized.

Before you could say anything, his mouth slanted over yours. He buried his fingers in your curls and lightly tugged. The moan that left you was swallowed by the kiss. You fisted his shirt collar and yanked him forward. His kiss was sloppy, teeth and skin and tongues clashing together. 

“James.” His name was breathy as it left your lips. Your eyes flicked between his eyes and his mouth and that turned him on. Your chest rose and fell in exaggerated breaths. “What are we doing?”

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago.” Bucky kissed you again, harder than the first time. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you onto his lap. Your clothed pussy ground against his thigh, your wetness dampening his pant leg. 

“You all wet for me, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, your voice husky. 

Bucky groaned and scooped your up into his arms and carried you to the bed. “Call me sir again and you won’t be able to walk for a week.” 

Your jaw went slack. You’d never heard him talk to you like that. So rough and authoritative. You put a hand on his chest. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

Your brown eyes searched his. “If we do this, we can’t be just friends. You know that, right? Everything changes.” 

“Oh, Y/N/N.” Bucky stroked the side of your face. “I’ve never wanted to be just friends with you.” He kissed you again. Both pairs of hands fumbled to remove their clothing as you ground your wet mound against his clothed thigh. “Gettin’ eager, huh, sugar?”

You pulled back, a half smile on your lips. “Are you even Southern?” 

“I’m an army brat,” Bucky answered, “But I spent more time in Kentucky.”

“Huh.” You smiled. “You should tell me more about your childhood sometime.”

“Sure. But right now, I’m fuckin’ desperate to be inside of you.” His eyes lingered on your plush mouth. “And I’m curious to know how many times I can make you cum.”

You made a guttural sound in the back of your throat. Your head was spinning; no one had ever spoken to you like this before. From your few sexual encounters in university, you found that most men advertised themselves opposite of how they were. You’d find yourself left unsatisfied and had sworn off of flings in lieu of tutoring and classes. 

You’d been sitting on Bucky’s lap for mere minutes and you were ready to give yourself over to him tenfold. 

“Well?”

You blinked. “What?”

“How many times do you want to cum?”

You rested your head into the curve of his shoulder. “You can’t just ask me questions like that, James.” 

A shudder rippled through Bucky. “Why not? I want you to feel good.”

You nipped at the skin peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. “I want you to feel good, too.”

He groaned and flexed his thigh. The friction made you throw your head back and a loud moan to spill from your mouth. “Fuck, baby, you sound like sin.” He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of her neck. He nipped and licked at the satin skin, chuckling when you hissed in pleasure. 

“Fuck.” 

You ground your wet cunt against his hard thigh, your grip on his shoulders tightening. Bucky’s hands found your hips and helped your build up a rhythm. Your breasts bounced as you rode his thigh and soft grunts and groans jumped from your honeyed mouth. You started moving faster, signaling you were close. “Fuck, James, I’m going to cum.”

Bucky tightened his hold on your hips. “You gonna cum from ridin’ my thigh? I haven’t even been inside yet.” He held you still and you whined, your brown eyes glaring and blown out. “I want to taste you.”

You eyes widened some. “What?”

He flipped them over and made quick work of your skin-tight jeans. His rough hands trailed along your hipbones and pelvis, tracing light circles in her skin. Your eyes screwed shut and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. His lips replaced his fingers and you sucked in a sharp breath. You fisted tufts of his hair when you felt his warm breath on your cunt.

Bucky kitten-licked your sensitive bud and you arched your back off of the bed. He loved how responsive you were. He looked up at your writhing form and chuckled. 

“Your pussy’s weeping for me, sugar.”

“Stop teasing me,” you whined. He licked a stripe up your slit and you yelped. “James!”

“Keep saying my name like that, sugar. Let the neighbors hear.”

Neighbors? You were so far gone you didn’t care if the whole campus heard you. You just needed his mouth. Your head was spinning and your body tingled. 

“I swear to God, Bucky, if you don’t fuck me — ” 

Your words left on a moan as his tongue dove into your creamy center. You’d never gotten head like this, fast and hard. Bucky pinched and rolled your clit between two fingers and you gasped, squeezing his head between your thighs. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, yes!”

His laughter vibrated against your pussy. He’d been dreaming about what you’d taste like. His fantasies did you no justice. You were sweet like honey and he couldn’t get enough. He threw your legs over his shoulders and took hold of your hips to still you. Your moans were frenzied and throaty, echoing off of his dorm room walls. He felt your belly tighten and added two fingers as he sucked and lapped at your cunt. 

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m cumming!” A broken mix between a sob and a moan left your mouth and you went limp.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to catch your breath,” he said, smug.

You threw an arm over your face. “I can’t. No more.”

Bucky moved up your body. “Oh, baby. We’re going all night.”

Bucky had woken alone many times in his life. But waking up beside the imprint of what was your body burned something hellish in his chest. 

“Yo, Barnes!” His roommate, Sam Wilson, pounded his fist against the door. “I need to get changed for my next class! Tell your guest to find her own room!”

Bucky groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Come in, you idiot! ’S just me.”

The door opened with Sam’s head creeping around it. His brown eyes gave a tentative scan of the room before pushing the door and striding into the room. He looked his roommate up and down. “What’s that on your face?”

“What?”

“That look. Like somebody just kicked your damn dog in front of you.” Sam threw his shirt over his head and went to rifle through his wardrobe. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said on a sigh. 

“Bullshit. I’ve never seen you so hurt.” Sam draped a towel over his shoulder. “What, your little flavor not like you in the daylight?”

Bucky threw a pillow at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What! I’m just askin’ a question!” Sam turned to face him, shower caddy in hand. “Whatever that girl did to you last night wasn’t what you needed.” He rolled his eyes and left Bucky alone in their room. 

“It’s what she did this morning,” Bucky said to himself. 

After not hearing from you for two weeks, Bucky had gone to the tutoring center to question you. Why were you ignoring him? Was the sex too far? Why did she leave him that morning?

He knocked on the glass window and saw Maria Hill, the librarian and director of the tutoring center, sitting at her desk. Her bespectacled blue eyes found his, a wide smile stretched along her lips. “James! I haven’t seen your name on the sign-in sheet in a while. What’s up?”

“Hey, Ms. Hill.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you heard from Y/N? I don’t have her number but she’s been ignoring my messages and I was getting worried.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought she put the bulletin on Blackboard.” Bucky raised a brow. “She’s been sick the past two weeks. Her roommate, Wanda, has been getting her coursework for her.”

“Oh.”

Ms. Hill gave him a small smile. “If you want to check on her, go talk to Wanda.”

Bucky nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I’d find her, would you?”

“I’m sorry, no.” She pursed her lips in thought. “But I think her friend Steve would.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

There was no plausible reason for Bucky to have disliked Steve Rogers as much as he did. Well, he knew the reason. From what little Bucky knew about him from you and Sam, he was a nice guy. He was the football team’s running back, he tutored like you did, and vice president of Lambda Kappa Tau. Though he was too boy next door for Bucky’s taste, they could be great friends if they’d spent a night at Daly’s together. 

The local diner, Rusty’s, was quiet this afternoon.  Bucky had seen Steve on shift a few times he’d come in with you for breaks but they rarely spoke. “Hey, R — Steve. I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re at work.”

Steve waved him off, a broad smile on his face. “No problem. What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve heard from Y/N lately.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Last I heard about her was a Snapchat message from Wanda last week. Said that she was banning contact to Y/N until she got better.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ve texted a few times since when she’s awake but I haven’t seen her, no.”

Bucky hummed. “Well, at least I know she’s not ignoring me.”

“Ignoring you? What’d you do?”

“Nothing!” Steve raised a brow. “We just — we had a thing. A moment, really, last Friday.”

“After that night at the bar.”

“Yeah. I mean, I thought we were fine. But thinking back, maybe I came on too strong.” Bucky put his face in his hands and groaned. “I fucked up.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, “I can’t speak for Y/N but I’ve known her since fourth grade. She’s not someone that runs away from issues or people.” He chuckled. “Besides, she never fakes being sick. She’s too much of a workaholic.”

Bucky snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard from some of the guys on the team that she was worse than some of their hardest professors. Though I don’t know why you were one of her tutees.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re in my buddy, Piet’s, STAT301 class. From what I’ve heard, Biostatistics is no walk in the park.” 

“If you’re talking about Maximoff, tell him he owes me coffee and a new notebook.”

“I will,” Steve said, laughing. A blonde came up beside Steve and motioned to the table across from where both men stood. “Let me finish up here. Thanks, Nadine.” He turned back to Bucky. “I’m going to give you Wanda’s number. Text her to see if Y/N willing to have visitors.”

“Thanks.” The right side of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. “You’re an all right guy, Steve.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Bucky. Maybe after you and Y/N figure your thing out, we can all hang. Me, you, Y/N, and my girlfriend, Sharon. It’d be nice.”

Bucky clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I’d really like that.” 

“Y/N/N?”

From beneath your duvet, you poked your head out. “Yeah?”

“You’ve got a visitor. One of your students.”

You groaned. “Tell whoever it is that I’m indisposed, Wanda. Give them the number of my replacement.”

“You hiding from me, Y/L/N?”

Despite the pounding in your head, you jolted forward at the voice. Leaning against your doorway stood James Buchanan Barnes in all of his sexy glory. Suddenly, you were aware of your own state of dress: bloodshot eyes, oversized bonnet atop your head, and a low cut tank top with no bra. 

You squared your shoulders and narrowed your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to go through three people to find you,” he said. “You had me worried.”

Your face softened. “You don’t need to worry about me, James.” You gave a weak chuckle. “I’m just a little tired, is all.”

“Your roommate said that you overworked yourself.” He crossed the room and turned on your bedside lamp. In the soft glow, his brown eyes were soft as they took you in. His large hand cupped your forehead. “You still have a bit of a fever. Have you eaten today?”

“I just woke up,” you admitted. 

“Have you been drinking water?”

“There’s a water bottle in front of my side dresser.” You put your hand over his and moved it to your cheek. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Bucky smiled. “’S fine. I like taking care of you.”

You chuckled. “Don’t count me out just yet. Before you came, I was awake for three hours.”

“Bravo.” He moved his hand away from you face. “I want to talk about last Saturday. If that’s okay.”

You pulled your brows down. “What about it?”

“You left. No note, no text. You just left me alone.”

Your eyes flicked to your bedroom door. “Can you shut the door, please? This sounds like a private conversation.” 

He nodded and strode across the room, closing the door. When he turned to face you, you’d pushed your duvet off of your body and moved to the middle of your bed. 

“Come sit down.”

“Sugar — ”

“Please, Bucky.” He sighed and moved to sit beside you. “You told me that you liked me and I never answered.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I do. Like you, I mean. I don’t know why I never said anything.” You smiled at him. “Though the sex solidified it for me.”

“So to clarify: you like me, too, and you weren’t avoiding me?”

“Why would I avoid you? You’ve literally seen me naked!”

Bucky threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! I thought that I did something or that you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Of course I like you, you clown.” You rested your head against his shoulder. “So much.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple. “Enough to go on a real date with me?”

“Are you going to be on time?”

“For you, I’ll be early.” 

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i'll say it once, i'll say it again: brown 👏🏽 eyed 👏🏽 bucky 👏🏽 supremacy 👏🏽

[saucerfulofsins]

https://www.tumblr.com/saucerfulofsins/755751308382945280/lou-has-publicly-stated-multiple-times-that-he-is

before like where put private on twt we where able to found that he liked pro trump and pro life tweet

also one of his stans was followed by him and she was very very happy and decided since he was following her to make a video presenting him a go fund me for a family in gaza that needed help she said that since it’s something very important to her it would be wonderful if he could’ve made a donation

he then unfollowed and blocked her

also on his ig profile there was ableist, sexist, racist, xenophobic and fatphobic meme posted by a 30 yo man and also he took pics of women at the gym and posted on his ig

he deleted the photo just now after being dragged about this thing

and let’s not forget how he told how tommy behavior towards chim and hen was just silly corny and teasing

Yeah I didn't wanna say anything I couldn't back up with sources, but I don't think any amount of sources about LFJ's personal issues could make me like this guy. Big ick.

And like. These are choices he is making! This is the way he chooses to present himself! And I know I keep coming back to this, but it's his focus on his own masculinity that I find most fascinating. It reminds me of a text I read for my BA thesis (which I did on representations of masculinity in 3 Middle English romances):

Experience indicates that the masculine gender is fragile and tentative, with weaker biological underpinnings than the feminine. It requires strong social support to maintain fictions of superiority based solely on a measure of physical strength. (Jo Ann McNamara in Medieval Masculinities, p.3 (1994)).

And it really feels like he feels superior because of his physicality/masculinity, when personally I find that quite threatening? I don't think there's anything inherently cool about it either, and most of all, I don't think that is the message 9-1-1 as a show is telling. It's completely out of tune with the show's message of talking, opening up, being vulnerable, letting people in. His "edgy humour" is also doing the opposite, it feels very late 2000s youtube, completely lacking any sort of moral compass or empathy. (I hate it enough that I've ended friendships over that kind of bullshit).

I think the reason I keep circling back to masculinity is because I think everything he does is filtered through it. It's the first thing he says about Tommy, and he clearly sees Tommy as more important than Buck, which I suspect is because he considers Tommy more masculine. And I hate it! I fucking hate it! Because if masculine masculinity is the epitome of cool, and that's admired by him, then everything else is automatically the OPPOSITE of that and therefore weak/not good.

[katsukikitten]

@kingkatsuki sorry not sorry mate

Jo I swear I tried VERY hard to pick the perfect guy for you. Someone who could keep up with your wit and handle your bants and I was stuck between two candidates but ultimately I know the gruff seasoned pro hero Bakugou Katsuki would be the only man who could handle you.

He insisted he picked out the date and that I just helped arrange his demands so remember Jo I only did what I was told. I have nothing to do with what happened tonight.

Absolutely nothing to do with you sitting across from your date staring at him through plexiglass holding an icepack to your face while the officer takes their sweet time counting the cash for his bail.

I'm getting ahead of myself! Let's recap the night.

You were dressed to the nines as per Bakugou's gruff request in his very dry text to you.

Wear something nice woman.

Not even a single hair was out of place in your dark fringe bangs as you nervously smoothed down your dress. It was a good thing you got ready early considering a car was waiting by the curb to take you to a very, very fancy place. We're talking top floor restaurant, the elevator ride to the top is five full minutes fancy.

The food was absolutely to die for and Bakugou knew the chef personally, so the two of you are sat by the window that looks over the water and where the sun will set exactly as your dinner comes out.

Or well it was supposed to but now it's been a full hour since you've arrived and still no date. Not even a damn text mate. You knew he was a hero and you tried giving him the benefit of the doubt but a girl can only drink so much wine and have so many free bread sticks before she calls it a night.

Sorry mate guess you got stood up.

But just as you're about to leave a lean body in a nice suit slides in across from you. You're met with mischievous brown eyes and perfectly messy brown hair.

He grabs onto your hand and kisses your knuckles.

"Shindou Yo. Most people call me Grand."

You've heard about Grand, he was your second favorite hero, plus you'd heard rumors about what all his quirk could do. Little did you know he was my second pick for your date!

And he over head Bakugou telling Kirishima this morning about how he had a hot date tonight. Saw Bakugou showing off pictures of you to his friend and well that got Shindou to scheming.

Maybe the dark haired man was the reason Katsuki has had back to back to BACK villains today, maybe not. Maybe the universe changed his route last minute and Shindou just got lucky. Knew when the date was set for and where, deciding to be your knight in shining armor.

The date goes well, the two of you having light banter and laughs exchanged over the food until a hulking frame comes to stand at the side of the table.

Bakugou Katsuki himself, still in his hero uniform, reeking of sweet smokey caramel that gets stronger the more he looks at you two. He's got flowers in his hands, a beautiful and huge bouquet that goes up in flames from the heat of his palms.

He's still covered in grime, dirt, and is that blood Jo?! Is that even his! Doesn't matter it's freckled across his face and part of his chest where his uniform ripped.

"Fuck are ya doin? Agency said yer ass was sick." He growls looking at Shindou before he puts two and two together, "Imma bout to make ya swallow your fuckin teeth!"

Grabbing for Shindou who just barely ducks Bakugou's punch but Yo's body weight against the table makes the plates and wine fall into your lap ruining your very expensive dress. You stand quickly knocking into a waiter who's passing by only to get even more and now even hotter food spilled onto you ruining your makeup and perfect hair! (Jo I'm so sorry I promise I didn't hex this date!)

The two men squabble before Bakugou has him pinned and when he looks to you soaked in soup, salad and someone's chocolate cake dessert, his heart falls into his stomach.

Falls further still when he's too slow to react as you reach down for your purse only to come up and be met with an elbow to the face from the passing staff trying to help you.

Tonight was the worst date ever! (Not my fault)

Bakugou is quick to his feet, trying to usher you to the bathroom, pushing his mask up exposing his forehead but Izuku and Kirishima have come to detain him after hearing about a fight in Tokyo's finest!

Both men get detained at the station right outside, you should have just gone home, should have just taken the world's hottest shower and made a date with someone else another day.

But instead something in your gut pulls you to go to the station, to bail Katsuki out who IMMEDIATELY sends you money to your account, plus more, and promises you the second date will be so much better.

"Are you taking the piss?! A second date?! Look at me you prick! Stood me up, got me covered in wine and food and then got into a fight! I should block your number!" (Jo I won't let you bakugou is too hot for that)

"But ya didn't." He's cornering you, pushing hair out of your face and letting his thumb slide across the bruise on your cheek, his voice softens, "Ya bailed me out ya must like me, woman."

Of course the moment is fleeting before his smile turns wolfish leaning in to whisper in your ear as he pulls a piece of lettuce stuck in your hair.

"Don't pretend I don't know that I'm your favorite pro hero. I know all about your little fan account on Twitter and what my forehead does to you, sweetheart."

Tipping your chin up with his thick gloved fingers, looking straight into your eyes leaning in to give you the most tender hesitant kiss of his life! Oh is he in love (and I'm so fucking fired somehow?!)

See I knew it would all work out! You can hook me up with his hot coworker Izuku as thanks 🖤

[raccoonfallsharder]

yo. wsp. sooooo i been writing some thoughts lately and i need help with something

HOW THE FUCK DO I WRITE GOOD SMUT? like i tried once and it was fucking BAD lollll. i seriously need help and you're the only person i can actually ask because you. are literally. the best at that. so pleassse send help

bb i love you and you are a sweet little raspberry pastry. i am so flattered to be asked something like this. i don’t know if i am the best but i do think any success i have is from learning from the best! im not great with advice but here are some things i believe have helped me.

the most important thing i can tell you is this: WRITE “BAD” SMUT! who cares? no-one has to see it?? write bad smut, and then write more bad smut, then go back and reread your og bad smut and decide what you would change so you enjoy reading it just a little bit more. then write some more bad smut. the first time you ever wrote a sentence, was it an ivory tower example of academically flawless grammar, punctuation, and spelling? was it an evocative and award-winning piece of revelatory poetry inspiring massive social change on a global scale? no way. you probably didn’t even have all your letters facing the right direction. WRITE BAD SMUT OR YOU’LL NEVER WRITE GOOD SMUT.

also write bad smut because it’s fun honestly and who cares how good it is?

next most important piece of advice: i think you gotta start by asking yourself what you like best when you’re reading smut. nono wait back up. first you gotta read A LOT of smut. no, more. however much you’re thinking, probably more. then you gotta figure out what your favorite parts are and why.

now. on a more individual note. every author’s smut is different and personal because everything author’s writing is different and personal and smut is in some ways even more personal, right? (don’t stop making plums) so what you’re writing will always look different. but here are some things that have worked for me and maybe they can provide a good space for you to start exploring how you want your smut to look. (warning for late-night first-draft rambling ahead)

for me, there are two parts to what makes smut satisfying (again, this is personal preference).

the first is when the smut is very rooted in an emotional core — specifically, the characters and their motivations. what does each character want? if it’s only an orgasm, why is it only an orgasm? if it’s more than an orgasm, what is it and why? and what does that look like?

sunshine-reader in sunshine wants a playful one-night stand but is incapable of not offering warmth. rocket in the same narrative wants connection because he’s rocket and never feels connected enough. their connection is warm and open because (they think) it’s low-risk and short-lived.

pearl-reader in wyndham/cicatrix wants to exercise autonomy for once in her damn life. rocket/“the monster” in wyndham/cicatrix wants revenge-sex. both of these two are grappling with their own versions of grief and that shows through in their motivations too (at least id like to think so).

in window, sex between jo and rocket looks different when it’s their first time versus when rocket’s trying to coerce her into taking up more space versus when jo is spiraling as they head back to terra, because the goals and motivations are always different.

knowing your characters’ motivations for sex, the way they’re trying to communicate with each other, and their outside-the-bedroom neuroses can also help make sense of kinks, too. in my imagination, rocket always has control issues (especially mcu rocket tbh) because of his historical lack of control and what it means for him to be under someone else’s power. (but i also see him with a complicated/conflicted praise kink a la adorations because he wants to believe nice things about himself while also not believing them, or not believing compliments are genuine).

all of the above is the philosophical part of smut — the emotional core that makes smut more satisfying for me personally as a reader. after that, we get into the technical writing-shit. i think, much like actual sex, the pay-off is better if you savor the journey. so at least for me, that means writing beyond just pinched nips, grinding, penetration. it means taking time to explore the way it feels to be touched in even the mundane parts of our bodies: different textures, pressures, etc.

for example, a claw prickling over the inner flesh of the forearm is not explicitly sexual but. i mean. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ or is it. you know?

another thing for me is to focus on detail. when our senses are overwhelmed we tend to focus on very specific details: the light coming through the window, the stroke of the back of the knuckles on your shoulder, the scent of the pillow. you could say “then she reached orgasm” or you could say “she squeezed her eyes tight. the crackle of electricity in her abdomen snapped taut, and then broke apart in a shower of sparks.” you could say someone was spanked, or you could say there was a crack in the air, and a stinging heat bloomed on their asscheek. don’t just say what happened — say what it felt like, what it looked like, what it smelled and sounded and tasted like. (i mean sometimes you gotta just say what happened or the scene can get too dense…but overall, i opt for relying on sensory description over exposition).

the rest imo is window dressing. are there certain phrases or words you particularly like to read or hear? are you someone who loves or hates the word “pussy” or “dick”? would you rather avoid explicit terms all together, or use them often? or sporadically, for impact?

anyway. like i said these are just my initial late-night first-draft thoughts so they might be rough and they ARE just things that have helped ME (everyone has different thoughts/ideas on this!) but i hope maybe this is a helpful place to start??? also if any of this did not make sense i apologize i am sleepy just lmk and i am happy to expand/clarify

also you are a precious little cherry tart, a springtime crocus, and i love you. please write more smut and allow yourself the freedom of enjoying it. ♡♡♡