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[pucksandpower]

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

[rafesfavgirl]

not like you — r. cameron

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. sorry this took so long y'all, school's been kicking my ass :')

❝ get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to thе backseat no onе's ever had me, not like you ❞

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

context: after a few dates with rafe, he finally asks you to go midsummers with him as his girlfriend.

words: 2.9k+

warnings: jealous!jj, bitchy!kie, jealous!rafe, alcohol use, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral m receiving, pretty fluffy, SMUT with a cute little plot bc soft!rafe is soooooo bf material

"so… i've actually been meaning to ask you something," rafe pulls his truck to a stop in front of your house and turns to look at you.

it was the middle of the night and the two of you had just gotten back from getting froyo, after he texted you asking whether you wanted to go with him to get some on his way home from topper's.

"what's up?" you ask, eyes scanning his face, which donned a look of apprehension.

was he nervous?

a chuckle escapes his lips as he glances down, hand fiddling with yours on top of your thigh. "well, we've been going out for a few weeks now…" he started.

"yeah?" a small smile comes across your lips—never in a million years did you think you'd be making rafe cameron, of all people, act like this.

"and you've met my friends," his eyes meet yours, blue irises twinkling. "and my sisters…"

"rafe, what is it?"

"i was wondering if you'd consider going to midsummers with me," he says, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "you know… as a couple."

you tilt your head to the side, and kink an eyebrow. "rafe cameron, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

he shakes his head at your teasing, and playfully rolls his eyes, thumb rubbing against the top of your hand. "depends, are you saying yes?"

"i don't know," you shrug. "i mean, you're a kook, i'm a pogue. we come from totally different worlds. not to mention i just got out of a year-long relationship and…" you trail off when the look on his face turns sour, clearly thinking you were serious.

"oh, i'm just kidding," you chuckle, nudging his arm.

"you're not funny," he tells you, but you know by the way his eyes light up again that he's relieved.

"i'd love to go to midsummers with you," you smile.

"as my girlfriend?"

"yes, baby," you nod, leaning in so your lips are just hovering above his. "as your girlfriend."

rafe closes the distance, lips meeting yours in a way that make all the butterflies flutter in your stomach, as his other hand comes up to tangle in your hair.

"come inside for a bit," you smile against him, lips only leaving his long enough for you to get the words out.

"your parents won't mind?"

you shake your head, "they're sleeping."

—

“y/n!” sarah immediately comes up to greet you when rafe opens your door and helps you step out, making sure your dress doesn’t snag.

“hey, sare,” you return her hug, but your eyes linger behind her head to john b’s parked twinkie in the parking lot.

…what the hell?

“hey, y/n,” when he rounds the twinkie, dressed nicer than you’ve ever seen him dressed, and comes over to stand beside sarah, it clicks in your head.

“no way,” you shake your head, eyes shifting between them when you break your hug with sarah.

sarah shrugs with a smile, hand intertwining with john b’s. “way.”

“but i thought you were with topper,” you say. “how did-“

“a’ight, as much as i’d love to hear about my sister’s love life, we gotta go,” rafe interrupts you, hand sliding across your exposed lower back, making your head turn towards him, as a chill runs down your spine, your weight shifting from one leg to the other.

“right,” you nod, his intoxicating presence completely making you forget about sarah and john b.

he gives you a small push towards the club and begins to lead you inside, sarah and john b trailing closely behind you. 

once again, you’re caught off guard when you follow rafe outside with your hand in his, the back garden of the island club decked out in twinkling lights and hysterias like it was pulled straight out of a fairytale.

"holy shit," you mutter, causing rafe to look at you with a smile.

"you like?"

"are you kidding?" your wide eyes meet his, as you both descend the steps of the back porch. "this is insane."

"come on," he nods his head to the side, and begins leading you toward his dad, rose, and wheezie. "you can meet my dad."

while the two of you had been messing around for about a month now, and you had even attended a brunch at the club with him two weeks ago, he'd been apprehensive to officially introduce you to ward. not that you thought it was a big deal—everyone in the obx already knew who he was.

"dad," rafe greets him with a smile; you glued to his side. "this is y/n."

"so you're the girl i've been hearing so much about," ward smiles at you and holds out a hand. "ward cameron."

you place your free hand in his for a quick handshake, relief washing over you when you realize he isn't the monster you thought he was—at least, if he was, he surely hid it well with that friendly smile.

"y/n y/l/n," you tell him. "it's nice to meet you."

"you too," he nods. "nice to finally put a face to the name. you kids enjoy yourselves."

"thank you," you reply, as rafe pulls you away towards kelce and topper by the bar.

"well, well, what do we have here?" topper smiles at the two of you and sips on a glass of what you assume to be whiskey. "is it official?"

"something like that," you smile back, leaning into rafe and tilting your head up to look at him, his eyes twinkling as they locked with yours.

"y'all want something or what?" the sound of jj's bitter voice pulls you out of your haze, when he walks up behind topper and kelce and leans his hands against the bar counter.

there was just no escaping him.

his eyes meet yours when top and kelce step aside to give him a full view of you and rafe, dressed in matching colors with your hands intertwined.

a smug smirk comes across rafe's lips, realizing just how quickly the tables had turned. though he'd never admit it, he'd always had a thing for you ever since he saw you waitressing at the wreck that one time you agreed to help kie with the lunch rush. a part of him always hated that jj got to you first, but that didn't matter now. because he was the one standing beside you tonight. not jj. 

"just a glass of whiskey for me, man," he says, before looking down at you. "anything for you, doll?"

"i'll take a glass of wine," you nod at him, pulling your eyes away from jj. rafe was the guy in your life now.

"you heard her," rafe tells jj. "and make it white wine. the most expensive kind you've got."

you playfully roll your eyes at his antics—he clearly just wanted jj to know how much he liked to spoil you—but don't argue when he hands you your glass.

"i'll be back," you whisper to him. "i'm gonna go find sarah."

"okay, baby," he nods, leaning down to place his lips on yours. "save me a dance, though."

jj rolls his eyes behind the bar and scoffs, tongue poking at his cheek as he poured another drink for kelce.

you choose to ignore him, and smile up at your new boyfriend instead. "you got it."

—

"is this a pogue reunion i see?" you couldn't help taking a detour from finding sarah to walk up to pope and john b by the grill that pope was working.

"maybe for you," pope shrugs, and john b agrees, pointing the neck of his beer bottle towards you before taking a sip. "we're together everyday."

"alright, touché," you nod, a hand reaching out to bump john b's chest. "i didn't know you cleaned up so well, dude."

"look who's talking," john b says, eyes trailing up and down the baby blue dress you're wearing. "you look more like a kook than anyone here."

you roll your eyes and shake your head. "shut the fuck up."

"i'm totally serious," he chuckles. "you look good, y/n. happy."

you sigh, not being able to help the smile that spreads across your lips. "i am."

"good," he returns your smile. "that's how it should be."

"and what about you?" you tease, nudging his arm with your elbow. "mr. sarah cameron… how the hell did that happen?"

he shrugs, "i don't know, it kinda just did."

a small laugh leaves your mouth. "hmm. who would've thought, huh? you and me with kooks?"

"definitely wasn't on my list of things that would happen this year," he shakes his head, chuckling.

"where is she, anyway?"

"she went to go find you, actually," he says.

"damn, i should go find her then," you reply. "but text me, yeah? i've missed y'all."

half-engaged in conversation with topper and kelce across the garden by the bar, rafe's eyes focus on you, as you throw your head back in a giggle at something john b and pope had said, his grip on his glass tightening. his tongue moves to poke at his cheek when you throw an arm around john b in a hug, and then pope, the ugly green monster inside him threatening to make an appearance, as he brings the glass up to his lips and downs the rest of his whiskey.

"face it, man," jj tuts, refilling his drink when he sets it down on the counter. "she's known us longer than you. it's not gonna last."

"just fill up my glass and shut the fuck up, a'ight?" rafe throws him a glare. "no one asked you."

—

you enter the bathroom to pee after failing to find sarah again—where the hell could she have possibly gone?—the two wine glasses you had finally catching up to you.

"you've got some nerve showing your face here," kiara's voice fills your ears when you move towards the sink to wash your hands.

when you look up at the mirror, you find her standing behind you. "you're one to talk," you turn off the sink and reach for some paper towards to dry your hands, as you turned to look at her. "weren't you against all these events because they're so ‘tone-deaf'?"

she scoffs and shakes her head. "you're pathetic, you know that? taking jj from me, dumping him for rafe…" this psycho bitch. "then turning him, john b and pope against me…" wait, what? "i mean— seriously, y/n, are you really that desperate for attention?"

you let out a sigh to keep your composure—she wasn't worth the energy it took to stoop down to her level. despite what she and jj had put you through, you were happy. she wasn't taking that away from you.

"i hate to break it to you, but if the boys aren't talking to you, it has nothing to do with me," you tell her. "maybe they just realized who you really are." you shrug, taking a step towards her. "you're a shitty person, kiara. you can try and blame me all you want, but you dug your own grave."

"you—"

"lie in it," you cut her off. "and while you're at it, leave me alone."

you don't allow her to get another word in before walking away, leaving her alone in the bathroom with her own thoughts.

damn that felt good.

—

"hey stranger," you lean down and snake the arm not holding a glass of wine around rafe's neck, your hand landing on his chest, as he sat at an empty table with a glass of whiskey, sulking.

"done talking to your other boyfriends?" he asks, raising his glass up to his lips.

you tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing. "what?"

"i saw you flirting with john b and pope," he says, setting his drink down on the table, as his eyes finally met yours.

they didn't look angry though, more like… sad?

"you thought i was flirting?" you ask, moving to sit in the seat beside him. "they're my friends, babe. i haven't seen them in a while, we were just catching up."

"didn't look like that when you were giggling and hugging them," his eyes avert to his glass on the table, his finger tracing along its rim.

"oh my god," you chuckle, half-amused by his behavior. "are you jealous?"

"why would i be jealous?" he shrugs you off, still refusing to have his eyes meet yours again. "if it's them you want, that's cool."

you sigh, and place a hand on his. "come dance with me."

to your surprise, he doesn't resist when you take his hand in yours and stand up to lead him towards the dance floor, as the band began to play an instrumental rendition of taylor swift's you are in love.

your hands lock behind rafe's neck, while his hands snake around your waist, pulling you close to him, as the two of you slowly began to sway along with the music.

"you're crazy, you know that?" you ask, fingers entwining with the hair on the back of his head.

"how's that?"

"for thinking i'd flirt with someone else when i'm here with you," you say.

"they've known you longer than me," he shrugs. "it's not that crazy."

"i guess,” you shrug. “but you’re forgetting something.”

his eyebrows furrow. “what?”

“they’re not you,” your lips pull together in a smile. "i mean, sure, i've known them longer. yes, we're friends, but they don't hold a candle to you, alright? no one's ever made me feel the way you do."

and it was true. your entire relationship with jj, there was always an uneasy feeling in the depths of your stomach that made you feel like there was always someone else—and it was right, because there was kie. but with rafe? he made you feel like the only girl in the world. it was healing.

"not even jj?"

you chuckle and shake your head. "not even jj."

"and how do i make you feel, doll?" his head tilts to the side, an amused look on his face.

a smirk comes across your lips, eyes locking with his. "how 'bout i show you?"

—

"shit, baby, what's gotten into you?" rafe smirks against your lips, your body rolling against him and your fingers entwined in his hair.

the two of you were now in the backseat of his truck, tongues dancing together while his hands roamed over your body.

you shrug, jokingly. "wine."

"damn," he muttered. "should get you wine drunk more often."

without your lips ever leaving his, one of your hands trail down his body to slide over the hardness under his pants, eliciting a groan from him.

he pulls away and shakes his head at you, the look in his eyes hungrier than you've ever seen them. "don't tease me, pretty girl."

"i don't plan to," you smirk, hands coming between the two of you to begin unbuckling his belt.

you pull away from him and he leans back on the seat, as you position yourself on your knees, hands working at his belt to pull down his slacks and boxers. his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your fingers around it, rafe's hand landing on your ass to give it a squeeze.

you slowly lean down to take him in your mouth, your mouth swirling around his length as you cupped his balls with your hand.

"fuckkkk," rafe groans, hand trailing up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. "just like that, doll."

you lick up his length and swirl your tongue around his tip, making his head tilt back as he began guiding your head to bob up and down.

you feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you gag, only making rafe hotter.

you release him from your mouth, and tilt your head up to look at him as you began stroking his length up and down. "you gonna cum for me, baby?"

"uh-uh," rafe shakes his head and grabs your hand to stop you, before grabbing you by the waist to sit up so he could untie the back of your dress and pull it off you, until it's lying on the floor of his truck. "come ride me, pretty girl."

he guides your hips to move over him, and you place your hand over his shoulders, your soaked center hovering right above his length.

he doesn't give you the chance to tease him, and immediately pushed you down, his entire length sinking into you and making you throw your head back.

you begin rocking your hips against him and he groans, one hand moving up to grab your tit.

"oh rafe," you moan, your orgasm inching closer and closer as you tangle a hand into his hair and lean against him.

his lips connect to your neck and begins trailing wet kisses, his fingers pinching your nipple and heightening the pleasure you were already feeling.

"so close, baby," rafe whispers against you. "you gonna cum with me?"

"mhm," you nod, barely coherent as your high washes over you.

you tremble when rafe shoots his load and keeps you steady, his head falling against your shoulder.

"did that answer your question?" you pant.

you feel his smirk on your skin before he picks his head up to look at you. "oh yeah."

"and how do you feel about me?"

he brings a hand up and pushes you hair back, eyes scanning every inch of your face. "you're everything."

anddddd that concludes this little series... i think. i've considered writing an epilogue but it'd take place several years after this, so let me know if that's something y'all are even interested in. but until then, i'm very excited to start working on some new fics, so stay tuned :)

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[rosiesmuts]

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

[imaginaryf1shots]

Rival? Friend? Lover | Max Verstappen

WC: 1.8K

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

Summery: (REQUESTED) You and Max have been rivals for so long but does that mean you hate him, did you ever hate each other.

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Getting into F1 as a female was always deemed impossible, only on the basis that you are a female. The mostly male sport was never welcoming to different people who do  it for their mould, doesn't matter how many videos they do or empty words they say. However, that didn't stop you from trying. Driving in F1 has always been your dream, you didn't care about other motorsports, you wanted to be a part of the pinnacle of motorsports, to race in the best and fastest cars in the world. Getting there wasn't easy, the road was filled with blood sweat and tears and  ups and downs, more downs than ups, but nonetheless here you are today the first female in over 30 years racing an F1 car. And so is your rival Max Verstappen.

It's a well known fact between everyone who's into F1 that you don't have to be enemies to be rivals, as evident by all the friendships on the grid, but you and Max seemed like you're enemies. Since you've been in your karting days and you've always been against each other, always trying to best the other. So many edits of your rivally from Karting to F1 have made their way online.

*

“Max is right behind.” your race Engineer says through the radio.

“Really? I didn't notice.” You day dryly focusing on defending from the number 1 car behind you. He's all over your mirrors. “What is wrong with him? The track is too narrow for this shit.”

“Just focus on defending.” The RE says and you would've rolled your eyes if it weren't for the fact that you're racing at a high speed. 

“Please stop talking!” You're stressed, Max is about to get DRS on you. You're turning the corner before a straight, and what do you know it seems your years of racing together affected your driving because you both went right at the same time and he had DRS on you, causing his car to slam straight into yours. The world stops for a moment, you let go of the steering wheel and hold your breath. You hit the wall once and stop, not a second later Max’s car slams into yours. Red flag is instantly issued and you breathe. Both cars are damaged with bits all over the track.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your RE asks and you take a breath before saying you're okay. Adrenaline is rushing through your body and you lean back going through your limbs seeing where it hurts.

The moment Max’s car stops he gets out of the car and rushes to your car, he doesn't see you getting out making his heart beat in his chest as dread washes all over him. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Max shouts going to your car, you look up at him through the visor, his visor is up so you can see his worried eyes looking at you. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so.” You say and take out your wheel and slowly stand up, Max has his arms in the air to help you if you need it. The Marshalls are arriving and you jump out of the car, Max has his arm on your back as you get your balance back. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” He asks, seeing how out of balance you are.

“Yeah, just a bit shocked.” You mutter not sure if he heard you or  not. But the safety car is here, and a Marshall leads you to the car to be taken to the medical bay.

You're out of there in no time, walking out you find Max standing near the entrance.

“Did you get hurt?” You ask the Dutch driver, he looks up at the sound of your voice taking you in, your hair is loose and the suit is by your waist. 

“No.” 

“Why are you still here then?” You ask him frowning.

“What, you own the medical bay now?” He says and you scoff, shaking your head at his tone and words, you show him your middle finger as you walk past him. Max curses himself and looks at your figure walking away asking himself the million dollar question ‘since when do I care about this nuisance Well being?’ 

Later on Max is with Lando after the race at a club, with a few drinks in each they're both feeling the effects of the alcohol.

“You know with the crash today, if it was anyone other than y/n you would've had their head for the crash.” Lando says and wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at the RedBull driver.

“No I wouldn't, that's old me.” Max mutters while taking a sip from his drink.

“You literally had a fight with Ocon a few races ago because he clipped your front wing, mind you, you still came first.” Lando points out and Max says nothing. “Also a birdie told me you stayed at the med bay to check on her.”

“Huh, and who might this birdy be?” Max asks and Lando does the motion of zipping his lips. “ you know if you keep saying things like this i'll go find someone else to drink with.”

“I'm sure you'll find y/n somewhere around here.” 

Lando laughs as Max leaves him in the direction of the bar.

*

At another race week, y/n is in the media conference after a race at your home race.

“Y/n, tell me it's been a tough getting past the RedBulls and especially Max, it's been a while since you got a win and some had their hopes on you today, and a lot of the fans are upset and are saying that its become boring now with Max winning every week, what's your take on this?”

“Uh, I feel like it's a bit unfair.” You say looking at the interviewer, Max is literally next to you on the sofa, sometimes you wonder what the interviewers expect to happen when they ask things like this. “It's unfair to hate on someone just because they're winning, you can't expect someone to lose when they can win, if I was in his position I'd give it my all and try to win as much as I could as well.” You shrug. “So all the booing and the hate makes no sense to me and frankly it's unfair.”

“So you don't want to win?” They ask and you frown.

“Where did I ever say that, of course I want to win, I wouldn't still be driving if I didn't think that, this is my home race of course I wanted to win but that's besides the point.” They open their mouth to ask something else and you roll your eyes before cutting them off. “Thank you, next question and to someone else please, I'm not entertaining this any further.”

You place your microphone next to you and take one out of Lewis's books and put on your sunglasses, you're clearly unamused. 

It takes everything in you not to look at Max and wish for this to be over already.

Later on you're walking with Alex and George. “You know I thought you and Max are like the biggest enemies in F1 history.”

You roll your eyes at Alex's words and say nothing.

“Me too, but did you hear her at the conference?” 

“Piss off both of you, I mean I barely said anything, I just don't get how so many people hate on him just for winning, yes I'm tired of the RB dominance but you can't hate an athlete for just winning. How is that girl?” You ramble a bit not realising the looks the taller drivers shared.

“I don't think you realise how you and Max aren't enemies any more.” You scoff at George's words and cross your arms.

“He's still annoying and stuck up.” You mutter frowning.

“You're convincing no one.” Alex says and you sigh.

“Okay whatever, see you later losers.” You say and break off from them to head to your motorhome.

You hear them laughing and flip them over your shoulder. Making them laugh even more.

*

You blame luck, honestly why is your luck so bad? What are the chances of you and Max staying in the same hotel, and what are the chances for you to be in the same left at the same time. AND what are the chances of it breaking down.

“What the heck?” You ask once the left stops moving, you were looking at your phone since you got on. Your eyes fell onto the other rider, who you just realised is Max.

Max presses the floor numbers before pressing the help one. Nothing. 

“Press the help button.” You say.

“What do you think I just did?” Max says frustrated you unlock your phone only to see no signal.

“Do you have a signal?” 

“No.” 

A few minutes later you're sitting on the elevator floor with Max sitting on the other side. You've been silent for a while before Max broke the silence.

"You know, someone said we would make the perfect team." He said out of nowhere. 

"Eww! No!" Was your natural response.

"That's what I thought." Max said and you fell into silence once more. 

“Why do you think we wouldn't make a good team?” You ask Mqx curious about his answer.

“You literally said no too.” Max replied.

“I know… but why do you think that.?” 

“I don't know, we've always been rivals, to be teammates and work together it's just… it's weird.” Max says and you hummed. “What about you? Why do you think we wouldn't make a good team?”

“It's the same I guess.” You shrug and look at your fingers, thinking it over you don't know why, being Max's rival has been all you know for so many years, it's like second nature to you, but thinking back you don't think he's ever done anything to warrant the hate that you realise is not there anymore. You're not sure if it ever was. You whisper. “I'm trying so hard to hate you.” 

“why?” Max asks and you look at him only to find him already looking at you. 

“I have no idea, you've been my biggest rival since we were kids and it's ingrained in me to not like you, but, I don't think we have to hate each other to be rivals.” You say not to overthink the words coming out before you say them. “I just realised that I have no reason to hate you and I don't think that I ever did.”

“To be honest we were kids and then teenagers, lots of unbalanced hormones there.” Max points out and you agree with him, there's a long moment of silence before he says “I don't think I've hated you for a long time as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It takes another ten minutes before the left is working again and you're out. Later that day you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number

Hey its Max

I got your number from Lando

Y/N

Hey it's okay 

What's up?

Max

I know it might be weird but

Do you want to go out with me?

Y/N

Like a date?

Max

Yeah

Y/N

When and where 

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.1

pt. 2 , pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again.

word count : 1K+

watch it : mild fluff, heavy on the angst, situationships, toxic relationships, Jude is kinda an ass in this one sorry, not very happy ending

happy valentines day LOL

—--

you and Jude have a complex history, complex relationship. 

you aren't officially together but at the same time you are exclusive. it's odd, but it's what works at the moment, (even if you wish he would just grow the balls to make you his already.)

you get he's a busy guy, top player both club and international. you aren't going to force him to choose you or make him get with you while his career is soon about to peak. 

your wishes for more soon fade into the background as he presses gentle kisses into your skin. he called you a few hours prior, wondering if you wanted to keep him company while he binges movies and orders you a pizza. you said yes, maybe a little foolishly. but it's hard to stay away from him. 

he's addicting. maybe it's a rush of being with someone whose whole existence is so grand. maybe it's the fact of knowing you have what millions of others crave for. you don't know, you try not to read into the intricacies. bad habit. 

so here you are, face pressed up against his chest while you lay side by side on this stupidly large couch, action movie playing, your pizza done, belly full and body warm. 

"what are you thinking about love?" he mumbles. 

"you." you shrug.

"me ?" he chuckles. 

you hum, wiggling deeper into the pile of blankets. 

"i've been thinking about you. and us." he confesses, almost shy. the movie playing in front of you has long fizzled out of your attention. 

hey might as well rip the band aid off. 

"me too," you hum, "why aren't we official again?"

you feel him sigh dramatically, "because my career."

you squint. there goes the same lousy explanation. "you could put more i don't know, thought into us."

he shifts under the blankets , "valentine's day is coming up. dont worry love i have it all planned out." he assures you. 

"oh yeah ?" you tease

"just you wait, the best valentine's day ever." he kisses the top of your head soundly.

—--

worst fucking valenties day of your life. you don't remember being more livid a day in your life. you cant remember the last time so much pure rage burned through you, hot enough to hurt. you didn't think it was humanly possible to clench your fist so tight youve dug into your palm hard enough to draw blood. 

your head hurts, your legs hurt, you think your arm is starting to bruise from where you were shoved into a table on "accident" but what would Jude know. he was so busy taking pictures with models and laughing at corny jokes while you kept yourself company. texting and calling didnt work and he didn't even try to give you any attention the whole night, you can't keep doing this with him. 

"you can't just run off-" Jude shouts from somewhere behind you. 

"or what Jude. or fucking what." you seeth, not bothering to face him, storming out into the night. 

It's your fault for trusting him all those nights ago. your fault for falling for the same shit over and over. 

he sprints to catch up to you, "i don't know why you're being like this."

you stop dead in your tracks, "oh i don't know, let's think. you didn't tell me your escorts would be there. and to top it all fucking off they have to nerve to be on my ass the whole night, not letting me get anywhere near you even through we walked in together?"

he doesn't respond and you half the mind not to punch the shit out of him, walking further away from the club you just came from, heels clanking against the sidewalk so hard it hurts, pulling on your dress so you dont trip and fall. maybe you should let it go so you can fall flat on your face. that would be a better ending to the night than seeing his face. silly stupid you thinking this would work. 

"happy fucking valentines day huh Jude. you take me to a damn club, you ignore me the whole night, and you spend all your time surrounded by other women who might as well just suck you off right then and there." you yell, hell if anyone hears. you want them too, you want him to be as humiliated as you feel. 

Bellinghams date thrown away the moment you step inside, ignored and tossed for some common whores. oh you can't wait to see where your face ends up online after tonight. you can see the headlines now. 

he grabs your arm, making you face him, "love listen-"

"no, you dont get to fucking do that anymore. you cant keep sweet talking your way out of things when you fuck up. why can't you just pretend to care" your voice shakes, you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.

"i'm not trying to talk my way out of it, i'm trying to explain." he tries.

you yank your arm out of his grip, "i'm not listening anymore, im done. all i asked was one day for us, just valentines day to make things work. and you showed me you dont care enough for that." 

"please, let me fix this." he pleads.

"its too late."

"i wanted things to work so fucking bad, and you humiliated me Jude. i imagined a nice dinner, hell i would have settled for take out and a few kisses. that's how bad i want things to work, that's how bad i wanted you." you tremble. 

"please my darling. let's talk about this. come back inside and i'll show everyone that you are mine," he holds a hand out to you, waiting. silently pleading with each breath he takes. 

the street lights dance across his skin as for a moment you almost believe him. for a moment you think about stepping back inside with him. you can't do that to yourself, not again. 

"no, iim done. don't follow me, don't call me dont text nothing. i want nothing more to do with you." your firm, final. swallowing the lump that builds in your throat, youd be damned if he sees you cry after this fucking shit show.

he stops in his tracks at this, not bothering to try and stop you. 

it hurts more than it should to leave him behind you, but you honest to god can not keep up with his lifestyle. 

all those articles and rumors were right you suppose, he's an arrogant stuck up bastard with too much money to know what to do with, too cocky for his own good and destroys anything good that comes his way. you hope he's happy without you. 

[doitforbangchan]

Honeyy, requests still open? Can i ask for jealous reader believe a fake rumor about hyunjin romantically going out with another idol who is about to work with, so reader becames the last romantic and appears on his door late at night, to fight for his love since he's her man who isn't her man, but still is her man ❤ (pls, let the girl win his heart and the D too 🤧)

Requests are indeed open bestie!!

I hope you like this and it's what you were looking for!!

Never want to wake up - Hyunjin

Pairing : Hyunjin x reader (afab!)

Warnings: Fem! reader, Smut, unprotected sex, cursing, angst, pet names, slut used negatively, friends to lovers. Not proof read :)

WC: 2.4k

MDNI 18+

Your body was frozen, the news headline staring right back at you from your phone. 

‘STRAYKIDS’ HYUNJIN RUMORED TO BE DATING ITZY'S YEJI’

This can’t really be true, can it? Hyunjin was your best friend, and had been for years before he was ever an idol. Surely he would have told you about this? 

Then again, he has been reeaaallllyy busy lately. Too busy to even answer your calls. That would certainly explain why he’s suddenly dropped off the face of the earth from you. 

It all made sense now. Still re-reading the article you could not stop the tears that fell from your eyes. Truth is, you’ve been in love with him for years. He is the only guy you’ve ever really loved. None of the other guys could even hold a candle to him. That's also the reason none of those relationships ever worked out, they weren’t him. They never treated you as well, never were there for you when you cried, never took care of you like he had. 

It’s not like you could really blame Hyunjin for going for a girl like Yeji. She was incredibly gorgeous. And you were…. Just you. As you always had been 

“Fuck this.” You hissed clutching your phone, closing the article. You couldn’t just sit here in your pity, missing him like you had been for weeks. Time to take your mind off it. Maybe by being under someone else. 

Your back met the wall of the grimy club, the guy in front of you attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, his hands roaming your ass. He was cute enough. Not Hyunjin cute but really no man will ever be. It’s that thought that keeps you hesitant to reciprocate, even though it was you who flirted with him first and initiated this interaction. The man, San, had his hands wandering under the hem of your short dress, clutching your rear and forcing himself into you. 

This was quickly becoming too much; the hands on you, his mouth on your body, the smell of this guy. He wasn’t Hyunjin. 

You put your hands on his chest, trying to lightly push him away from you.

“San, stop” You mumbled, now becoming more forceful when he doesn't move from you.

“Hmm?” His mouth was still on your neck. 

“I-I’m sorry but I..I can’t do this.” You manage to get out. He pulls back from you to peer over you, disgust now filling his eyes. 

He scoffs, “Oh I see what your little game is. You’re a fucking tease. Acting like a slut then running away at the last second. Well not with me.” He turns and walks back to the bar not sparing you another glance. 

Feeling your shoulders drop at his words to you, the reality of what you had done was setting in. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I become this person?’ The answer was clear. 

Hyunjin was what was wrong. 

Your mind was running a million miles an hour, and before you could stop yourself you collected yourself and ran out the exit. You had to see him. Had to speak with him. 

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

Hyunjin woke with a start, the pounding at his front door seeming to never end. He blearily looked at the time on his alarm clock. Who is trying to come over at 1 am? 

Heaving himself out of bed and to the front door, he was ready to chew out whoever was disturbing his sleep, until he opened the door and saw you standing there. In the skimpiest dress he had ever seen you wear, makeup messed up and arms wrapped around your body. 

“Y/n?” He asked, confused.

“Uh hey Hyun.” You could see he was clearly fast asleep when you disturbed him. “I really didn't mean to wake you. I’m sorry I’m just being stupid, I’ll go. Sorry again.” You turned to leave, humiliated now, when he reached for you by your arm to stop you. 

“No, what's wrong? Are you ok? Did you just come from the club?” He really had no idea what was going on. All he knew is that you looked like you needed help. He would always help you. 

Your shoulders were shaking, the nerves coming back at you full force now that you were here in front of him. You took a deep breath before beginning, “I just…. I was out at that shitty club downtown, and there was this guy…” 

Hyunjin held his breath waiting for your next words. Did he hurt you? Take advantage of you? Hyunjin would kill anyone who would do that to you. 

“A-and the thing is.. He wasn’t you, Hyunjin. I tried so hard to forget about you and Yeji but your face was all I could see when he was kissing me.”

He tried to interrupt you “Y/n I-” 

“No! Let me finish! It’s taking all I have to even get this far so please let me finish.” He nodded at you to continue. 

“I know I could never hold a candle to her. Yeji is beautiful. And talented. And everything a man could want. You guys really do make a handsome couple. But that doesn’t mean it’s not killing me inside, to see you together. The truth is. I’m in love with you Hyunjin. I have been for literal years. For me it’s always been you. I know you don’t feel the same I just had to tell yo-” 

Hyunjin cut you off, crashing his lips into yours and cradling the back of your head. Before you could even register what happened, he pulled back from you, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“I love you too, Y/n.” And he brought you in for another kiss. This time you reciprocated it. He could taste no alcohol in your mouth so knew you were sober.

This definitely wasn’t how you saw this interaction going. You thought for sure he’d tell you to leave, to never come near him or his girlfriend again. Oh shit, Yeji! 

Finding his chest with your hands you shoved him off slightly. “Hyunjin, you can't. What about Yeji? I’m not a homewrecker!” 

He laughed at your statement. “You’re right, in order for you to be a homewrecker there has to be one for you to wreck. There’s nothing going on between Yeji and I.” 

Huh? “But I saw the article, the picture of you both together. I thought…” 

He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “We’re working on a performance together. We are dance partners, that's all, sweet girl.” 

Dance partners. That’s all. You felt so stupid. You brought your hands to your face, trying to cover your humility. He grabbed your hands, prying them from you, “Hey look at me. It’s okay I promise. I know I’ve kinda been unreachable lately. I have so much to prepare for, I really haven't had any time on my phone. I should have reached out though to at least let you know what was going on. I am so sorry for keeping you in the dark. I never meant to do that to you.” He held your face with both of his hands, looking into your eyes. 

“You have no idea how much I’m in love with you.” That was all you needed. Launching yourself at him, mouths colliding. The kiss was everything you ever wanted. You could practically feel his love in that kiss. 

“Come on,” He mumbled to you, “let's get inside before my neighbors see what I’m about to do to you.” He hauled you into his home, mouth hands never leaving you. 

You felt a tingle at his words, and let out a little moan. The noise certainly didn't go unnoticed by Hyunjin, “Unless you want them to see you a mess for me? I always knew you were dirty.” He teased you.

Shaking your head no, “Uh uh. Want you to take me to your bed.” 

He closed the door behind you and led you into his room. 

“There's my little romantic. You really are perfect for me.” You melted at his words. 

Hyunjin flicked on the low lights in his bedroom, there was no way he would let your first time together be in the dark. He wanted to see all of you. 

He pressed your mouths together again, standing at the end of his bed. He let his hands fall to your waist, then to your exposed thighs, rubbing small comforting circles. 

“If you don’t want this, you have to tell me now. I don’t think I could let you go once I have you.” He whispered, giving you breathing room. 

You circled your arms around his shoulders, mouth finding his ear. “I want this more than you know. Want you so bad, Jinnie.” 

He groaned at your words, moving to slowly remove the dress from your body. He wanted to savor every moment. 

You let him pull the garment over your head and throw it to the side. You saw the exact moment he realized you weren't wearing a bra, this particular dress not needing one. His eyes widened, giving you a cheeky smirk as he pushed you onto his bed back first. He crawled over you slowly, mouth trailing kisses up your body until his mouth rejoined yours. Hyunjin let his hands find the soft skin of your breasts, fingers circling and pulling at your nipples, causing your hips to buck and grind on his growing erection. 

“Jinnie” He seriously could listen to your whines all day, “ Please Jinnie. Need you.” 

You reached your hands down to the waistband of his pj pants, sticking one inside the garment to grasp him. He let out a gasp at the contact, giving you a slight grind into your hand. His dick was so soft. 

One of his own hands traveled down your body, finding your panties and tugging them off your body, letting his fingers find your clit. When he made contact with you you arched further into him, whimpers falling freely. 

He cooed at you, “So wet sweet girl. Who made you this wet, huh?” Continuing to give you light fluttering touches, sweeping his fingers up and down your pussy. 

“You. You Jinnie always you.” Your words made his eyes roll back into this head. Your hand stroked over him, the movement from your grasp remaining consistent. You felt one of his long fingers run over your opening, before he inserted it into you, drawing a long moan form your mouth. 

“Fuck, so tight around my finger, Baby. I wonder what you’ll feel like around my cock.” He gave you shallow thrusts with his pointer finger, adding his middle finger to join the one that was stuffed in you. Your hips were bucking, the grip on his dick tightened and he hissed. “Easy sweet girl, you gotta be gentle with it.” 

“M’ sorry Jinnie. Just need you so bad. Need you to fuck me.” You looked up at him with glassy doe eyes. Fuck me eyes. 

“Ok baby. Ok.” He removed his fingers from your hole, and brought the fingers up to his mouth giving them a lick. Your taste alone could have had him busting in his pants. “But I wont fuck you. Not tonight. Tonight I am going to make love to you.” 

You wanted to cry at his words. You removed your hand from his member, and helped him push the fabric down his thighs revealing his cock in all its glory. And it was glorious indeed. Long and pale, head red and leaking ready to take you. He reached over to his bedside table to pull out a condom but you stopped him. “I have an IUD and I'm clean. Just wanna feel you raw.” 

Fuck you were perfect. 

Hyunjin positioned himself above your entrance, giving himself a light squeeze before he lowered his tip into you, breaching your walls. 

The sound you let out was straight pornographic. Never in your entire life had you ever been filled so deliciously. Hyunhin was feeling the same way, your body taking him completely in one thrust. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Your pussy was made to take me.” He let in a grunt of pleasure. 

You nodded dumbly, “Uh huh. Please move, Jinnie. Please pleaaassseee” Arms once again around his shoulders. 

He mouths at the skin on your neck and gives you another thrust. You were impatient though and brought your hips up to meet his, craving the friction. 

Sensing your impatience, he throws one of your legs over his hips and begins to drive into you. 

If he thought you were loud before he had no idea. He was sure he would have an angry note on his door by the morning. It was all worth it, though, to see your pleasure. To be the one to give you that pleasure. 

He could hear the sound of your wetness with each thrust, giving him another sign you were enjoying it. 

Your nails were running down his back, leaving red marks in their wake but neither of you cared. The feeling of him was too good. You knew you weren't going to last long. You had wanted this for literal years. 

“Jin. I'm gonna cum.” You warned him. His fingers returned to your clit and rubbed tight, quick circles over it, trying to help you get there. 

“Cum for me, my love.” That sent you over the edge, a sob leaving your mouth at his words. He held you close to him as your body shook with your orgasm, whispering about how much he loved you and how lucky he was that you were his now. His thrusts didn't slow even as he himself reached his high, filling you to the brim with his sticky essence. His moans of pleasure almost made you cum again, it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard. 

Only when he heard your soft whimpers of overstimulation did he stop, giving you a sloppy kiss before pulling out. He watched his cum leak out of you, feeling another wave of ecstasy course through him at the sight. 

He curled you into him as he laid next to you, rubbing up and down your stomach sensually. 

“I really love you y/n. I’m so happy you feel the same way.” He dropped a kiss to your head. 

“I love you Hyun. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. This feels like a dream.” Your voice was raspy from your previous moaning. 

Hyunjin chuckled at your words. 

“If this is a dream then I never want to wake up.” 

[shaunamilfman]

Lucy MacLean x Wastelander R HC's

you start looking at her in a new light after she sets off a grenade that takes out a room full of enemies. you're so impressed with her that she doesn't have the heart to tell you that she just accidentally tripped into a row of shelves and knocked an old grenade on the floor. 

“you want the head?”/ Lucy, love-struck “i mean if you're offering.” a pause, thinking over what you just said and looking disappointed. ”wait– did you say the head?"

most shocked look ever watching you loot bodies. on her high horse talking about “stealing is wrong” till you agree and say you just won’t be able to have dinner that night then. suddenly she’s willing to make exceptions to her morals, go figure.

whenever she starts talking too much, you start describing the most horrific looking monsters you've fought. she's following silently behind you in horror for a good mile before she manages to shake that description off and starts talking just as eagerly again. the silence was nice while it lasted. 

Lucy pretends to not know how to do things so that you’ll teach it to her as an excuse to talk to you but takes it way too far. you’re like, “what do you mean you don’t know how to open a can?” while she looks visibly upset that you don’t wrap your arms around her to show her how like she’s seen in those pre-war movies.

uses your rations to try to tame herself a pet while you're camping for the night. you’re looking everywhere for your last box of sugar bombs only to find a shameless Lucy feeding it to the ugliest animal you’ve ever seen as she tries to entice it to do tricks. She insists that she doesn’t understand why you’re mad about it but you can’t help but notice she never uses her rations for it. you end up getting so mad that you can’t even speak to her, which turns out to be the most effective punishment you ever could have come up with. she’s sitting there and begging you to talk to her because she's going crazy without human interaction (it's been five minutes).

you’re surprised and a little sad to see that Lucy isn’t in the camp when you wake up the next morning but it’s fine. You don’t need her anyway, right? You try not to look relieved when she trudges in halfway through taking the camp down covered in soot and grime and collapses in her cot as she holds up a pristine box of sugar bombs she spent all night searching for.

Lucy sees you smile one (1) time and will not get over it. “you have such a pretty smile, you should really smile more. you know it really lights up your face and…” on and on for like ten minutes. The type to grab for your face to pull the sides of your lips up to make you smile. You’re still visibly frowning, just with your lips pulled up at the sides. Lucy’s so frustrated with you mostly because she realized you’re actually really nice to look at when you aren’t glaring at everything. 

Lucy would call you lover unironically. goes through a million different terms of endearment before finally deciding on that one. it was one of the least embarrassing ones that she suggested so you wearily let it happen. walking for miles with Lucy trying them out initially like "honey. baby. teddy bear. big teddy bear of death? murder bear? no, okay, got it. sweetie. babe…” 

pretending not to know about things Lucy is referencing to see how long it takes for her to realize you’re messing with her. she's talking about her book club and you’re like “book? what's a book?” and she’s spiraling trying to explain the concept of written word to you

no concept of flirting. give her your absolute best lines and she's like “haha… okay?”. got to be as blunt as possible. tell her you want to fuck and she's like “oh yeah, sure.”

[melefim]

Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Fuck

Overview:

Fuck was said a total of 90 times, in all 8 episodes and by 15 different characters.

Uses Per Episode:

Fuck is said in all 8 episodes of the show, one of only 4 words to do so.

Episode 1: 7

Episode 2: 5

Episode 3: 13

Episode 4: 5

Episode 5: 8

Episode 6: 13

Episode 7: 16

Episode 8: 23

Uses Per Character:

Fuck is said by 15 different characters, more than any other word.

Edwin: 2

Charles: 5

Crystal: 20

Jenny: 18

David: 12

Esther: 6

The Cat King: 6

Tabby Cat: 2

Calico Cat: 1

Litty: 8

Kingham: 5

Brad: 2

Hunter: 1

Twitchy Richie: 1

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): 1

Percent of Total:

Fuck is used 90 times, which is 27.9% of cursing in the show.

Variations:

There are 7 variations of the word used in the show, with the most popular being Fuck, which was used 42 times.

Fuck: 42

Fucking: 37

Fucked-up: 7

Fucked: 1

Fucker: 1

Fuckboy: 1

Mindfuck: 1

Rankings:

Total Uses: Fuck comes in first for total uses, being said 90 times.

Number of Episodes: Fuck is one of only four curse words that is said in all 8 episodes- the others are Shit, Ass, and God.

Most Uses of a Word in a Single Episide: Fuck holds 5 of the top 11 spots.

Most Uses of a Word by a Single Character in One Episode: Fuck took the title here as well, being said 10 times by Jenny in episode 8.

Total Characters: Fuck comes in first for number of characters to say it, with 15 using it throughout the show.

It is one of only two words said by the main trio of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal, the other being Damn.

It is one of only four words said by both Edwin and Charles—the others being Damn, Bloody, and Bloody Hell.

Favorite Word: Fuck is the favorite word of 7 different characters: Jenny (18), David (12), Litty (8), The Cat King (6), Kingham (5), Tabby Cat (2), and Brad (2).

Curse Word Variations: It comes in first for most variations, with 7.

Lines:

Episode 1:

Charles: Edwin, hurry the fuck up!

David: I'll fucking gut you! (x2 while possessing Crystal)

Crystal: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Tabby Cat: Fuck you. I'm not telling you nothing about that house or the witch inside.

Crystal: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Edwin: Police don't know what to do with a fucking witch!

Episode 2:

Litty: Little ghost fucker!

Litty: I'm gonna tell you something, because I think you really need to hear it, okay? You should go fuck yourself.

Litty: You know what? You can take that sweater and you can shove it up your ass. Do you have any clue how powerful we are? We are fucking gods!

Kingham: You better hope we never get out of here or we are going to fuck you up, like 'brass knuckles and mace' fuck you up!

Episode 3:

Jenny: It's a super fucked-up story so I'm gonna need some coffee

Crystal: What the actual fuck?

Calico Cat: At least we don't have to go inside. This house is fucked up.

Crystal: Just what the fuck is it?

Litty: Looks like they left you behind because you fucking suck.

Litty: They're all gonna fucking die.

Litty: We were fucking kidding, can't you take a fucking joke?

Litty: Stupid fucking bitch!

Charles: I'm just sick of watching this asshole kill his family a million times for no fucking reason. Tried it your way, and it did nothing. Sod it. Let's try mine. (x2 due to time loop)

Charles: His dad was bad, Edwin. Royally fucked-up bad.

Crystal: I am done wasting my energy on your fuckboy bullshit.

Episode 4:

Jenny: Ok, so you're what? You're just, you're not gonna leave until I explain this even though it's private and go the fuck away?

Tabby Cat: Fuck off. The kid had a sardine.

Crystal: You fucked with my head, I'm gonna fuck with yours.

Charles: Every day, I'm fucking smiling.

Episode 5:

Twitchy Richie: The fuck is this?

Jenny: Oh my fuck.

Crystal: You walk around acting like the sun always shines, and then you lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse. Edwin and I are walking on eggshells around you instead of just saying 'what the actual fuck?'

Jenny: What the fuck, Maxine?

Hunter: Oh, fuck that, you whiny little bitch.

Brad: It's a fucking tragedy that we died, okay?

Brad: What the fuck does that mean?

David: I'm a demon! And I always get what I fucking want!

Episode 6:

Crystal: I want to keep this demon the fuck out.

Jenny: Just like whatever the fuck I am doing is none of yours.

Crystal: It's like he's fucking haunting me.

David: Oh no, I'm so fucking scared.

Charles: Don't listen to him Crystal, it's just some sort of a mindfuck, innit?

David: Why the fuck do you smell so weak?

David: What the fuck did you do?

Crystal: I gave up my powers, OK? I got you out of my fucking head.

David: Now, she's just another fucking terrified lump of human flesh!

Crystal: I am nothing special, So why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?

David: Did you really think that you could beat me with a fucking cricket bat?

The Cat King: Do you hear me? I will stop fucking playing nice!

Esther: Teeth Face, what the fuck?

Episode 7:

The Cat King: Why the fuck are you here?

Esther: I know you blew up Monty's spot, you little fucking snitch.

The Cat King: I don't give a fuck, OK? End of audience.

The Cat King: That was my third life, you bitch. I only get nine. Would you fuck off? Fuck!

Crystal: Fucking bullshit, like I can't help.

Crystal: God, that's fucking insane.

Jenny: Fucking kid.

Jenny: What the fuck?

David: Why the fuck would you even want that?

David: What the fuck did you do? Where are we?

David: Maybe I was just fucking with you.

David: Fuck! Fine, you got your memories back.

Jenny: What the fuck was that?

Esther: You, you.. you think that you're the only one who's ever been screwed over? You're not. I fucking deserve this!

Edwin: That is so fucking stupid, It's unbelievable!

Episode 8:

Girl in Crystal’s Memory 2 (Club Fight): Get your fucking hands off my boyfriend, you slut!

Crystal: Oh, my God. Oh, I'm a fucking awful person. Oh, God, I'm the worst.

Jenny: What the actual fuck?

Jenny: And why the ever-loving fuck is my hair braided?

Jenny: Fuck that! That is bullshit!

Jenny: No fucking way.

Kingham: "No fucking way" to you. "No fucking way" to that side braid. What the fuck is that?

Jenny: Fucking fuck!

Jenny: Screw it. I'd rather know my own life, no matter how fucked-up.

Jenny: Jesus, fuck!

Crystal: Fuck! (Esther has the boys)

Jenny: I figure a meat cleaver can cut up a witch, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

Crystal: Because whatever fucked-up little thing you have going on with Edwin, you must care about him a little.

The Cat King: Fuck me. Did you even listen to my story?

Esther: Oh my God, my own sacrificial knife? I'm impressed. But I'm not fucking around that you're also gonna patch that wall before you die too.

Esther: Who the fuck are you?

Esther: What the fuck? Hey hey hey no! What did you just do?

Jenny: God, that sounds so fucking procedural.

Crystal: I don't have to give up my new fucked-up life while I'm trying to sort out my old fucked-up life.

Notes:

Not included:

In episode 1, Crystal flips off Edwin in the malt shop.

In episode 2, Litty flips off Charles, Edwin, and Crystal with both hands, and then later Kingham and Litty both flip off Edwin.

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

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by Episode

Swearing by Character

Swearing by Word

All Swearing Posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detectives ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 5

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

I'd really appreciate it if anyone who likes this series could leave a comment or reblog with a GIF.

Could you let me know what your thoughts are? Reblogs and comments are the main things that keep me posting new stories. ❤️❤️❤️

"Oh my god. Oh my god. What am I going to do?" You paced back and forth, your mind racing with worry.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk replaced with a concerned frown. "Why are you the one stressed out?" He assured you that you wouldn't have to deal with dirty work.

This was the first time Bucky had seen you lose your composure.

You grabbed his collar, desperation evident in your eyes. "You don't understand, the last person I want to deal with is my stepsister."

Returning home, you realized that if there was an investigation, your job profession could make you a suspect, too.

Trying to calm you down, Bucky suggested, "For the alibi, if anyone asks, just say that you were with me."

You scoffed, feeling frustrated. "Like they're going to believe that I wanted to spend a day with you."

Everyone in your household knew how annoyed you were with Bucky. On numerous occasions, they had heard you complain about him to Cedric, the family lawyer.

You were quiet as you picked up the phone to make a call.

"Y/N?"

The sound of his voice brought a sense of calm over you. "I need your help."

"I'll be there."

A few hours later...

Bucky chimed in with his usual teasing tone. "Ooh, so you choose him over me?"

You rolled your eyes while Eddie checked on you.

Eddie interjected, "Her family will believe me if she spends the night with me."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words.

"But there's something missing," Eddie continued.

"What?" you asked.

"They won't believe it if you only say it was a sleepover," Eddie explained.

"What are you trying to say?" you inquired.

Bucky caught on. "Hangover."

Eddie nodded in agreement. "You have to make yourself look hungover. That strengthens your alibi."

"Right," you acknowledged.

Bucky rolled his eyes, realizing that he had suggested the idea first, but you were only listening to Eddie.

"Perfect. I have plenty of alcohol here. What do you want to drink?" Bucky offered.

You replied confidently, "Start with the strongest."

"Yes," Bucky agreed.

After downing three shots of vodka, you started to lose yourself in the night. With the alcohol, the music, and the vibrant atmosphere of Bucky's club, you found yourself enjoying the moment and forgetting about your troubles.

######

As you awakened, the sensation of your stomach churning made you groan. It felt as if your insides had shifted, causing discomfort to spread throughout your body.

Slowly, you managed to sit up, only to discover that you were sprawled atop Eddie, who was still fast asleep and holding you close. Relief washed over you as you realized that both of you were still fully clothed.

However, the memories of the previous night flooded back, each one hitting you with increasing clarity.

"You're awake?"

Your eyes widened at the sound of Bucky's voice. Glancing over, you saw him standing nearby, his shirt rumpled and a distinct lipstick stain marking his lips.

A wave of nausea swept over you, prompting you to grab the nearby champagne bucket and empty its contents in a fit of vomiting.

"Urggh."

Bucky's remark cut through the haze of your discomfort. "Well, that hurts my feelings. You see my face and vomit."

"Urrghh," you groaned, the sickness still plaguing you.

Eddie winced, his hand moving to massage his throbbing head. "What kind of drink did you give us last night, Barnes?"

Bucky shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's a new drink I picked up from a celebrity brand."

Eddie chuckled ruefully. "That explains everything."

He rose from his makeshift bed and reached over to pat your shoulder gently. You noticed a faded lipstick stain on his lips, the same color as yours. A blush crept up your cheeks as you realized the implications of the matching marks.

Meanwhile, the incessant ringing of your phone filled the air, causing your head to throb even more.

"Ring, ring."

You cringed, covering your ears to block the sound, but Eddie took the initiative to answer.

"77 missed calls," he informed you.

You grabbed your phone, reluctantly answering the next call.

"Where the hell are you?!!!" your mother's voice pierced through the line.

You sighed. "Mom, don't scream."

"What—? Are you drunk right now? Come home now. Your sister's fiancé died."

You negotiated, "Give me 2 hours."

"One hour."

Turning to the two men beside you, you sought their reassurance. "Do you think they're going to believe me?"

Eddie, suppressing a burp, offered some confidence. "I believe so. You rarely get drunk, and you have a reasonable reason after your fight with Charlotte."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, how do you know about me and her?"

Bucky yawned lazily. "You spilled the beans last night."

You were shocked.

Bucky leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he added, "You spilled your guts about how you missed your stepdad, how your mother missed your birthday for five years straight, and how you had a row with your stepsister."

Eddie chimed in, his expression sympathetic as he confessed, "I did try to stop you."

You sighed heavily, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. "Oh no."

Bucky, ever the opportunist, concluded, "But it supports your alibi, since half the club heard your sob story."

You couldn't help but huff in frustration, feeling the bile rising in your throat once more. "Great."

Amidst the conversation, Bucky's smirk only widened while Eddie wore a more concerned expression, his brow furrowed in sympathy.

Your body language betrayed your discomfort, with tense shoulders and a hand clutching your churning stomach, while your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from the mess you found yourself in.

########

Watching everyone in grief, especially Charlotte, who was sobbing as she watched her fiancé's casket being lowered into the ground. Charles stood beside her, offering what comfort he could.

Susan stood next to you, her voice barely above a whisper, "Give me one thing that would justify your actions."

She sounded grief-stricken seeing Charlotte cry like that, but she seemed oblivious to your own stress.

Wearing sunglasses to hide your red, teary eyes, you replied softly, "He cheated on her."

Susan clenched her fist, her anger palpable. "Good, he deserved it then."

After the funeral, you found yourself face-to-face with Bucky once again. With a roll of your eyes, you couldn't help but remark, "Now I feel like you're the angel of death."

Bucky merely smirked, seemingly unfazed by your comment. "I'm here to meet my client."

Drawing closer to him, you whispered, "You mean the one who ordered the hit on the prince?"

A nod from Bucky confirmed your suspicion, and he subtly gestured towards a woman standing on the fringes of the grieving family.

Your eyes widened in recognition. "Rosie?" Memories of encounters with her during summers spent at Eddie's manor flooded your mind.

Bucky's response was chillingly matter-of-fact. "You know her? Great. She's only paid half. The other half hasn't come through yet."

Your incredulity peaked. "Are you kidding me? Right now?"

You attempted to intervene, but your attention was diverted when you noticed Eddie approaching Rosie.

Bucky's voice cut through the tension with a teasing tone. "Oh-oh. Someone's jealous."

You shot him a glare, cursing inwardly. If even someone like Bucky could pick up on it, then your feelings must be glaringly obvious.

With a dismissive shrug, you replied, "It's just an old crush."

Bucky's smirk widened as he observed your reaction. "Seeing you like this makes me want to tease you more, Your Grace."

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[kimboo-york]

My podcast episode about the writing life, and the value of aiming to write 1 million words!

Inspired by feedback to this and my own work as a productivity coach for writers has led me to starting something new and exciting! A community for authors looking to up their word counts and explore their writing process!

If you thrive on the accountability aspect of writing challenges such as Big Bangs and NaNoWriMo and wish you could find something similar to help you all year long, I got you!

The 1 Million Words Club is launching in January!

More soon! In the meantime, enjoy the podcast! 💖

[wintfleur]

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTE LECLERC PROFILE

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

𐙚 BASICS!

NAME Juliette Celeste Leclerc

BIRTHDAY November 15TH 1999

ZODIAC Scorpio

SEXUALITY bisexual

BIRTHPLACE Monte Carlo, Monaco

HEIGHT 5’7

PIERCINGS 1 in each ear, bellybutton

TATTOOS she has this one on her lower back, and this one on her left arm. She wants to get more!

FACE CLAIM Dua Lipa

LANGUAGES 100% French, 100% English, 100% Korean, 36% Spanish.

𐙚 CAREER!

PROFESSION f1 driver

TEAM Red Bull Racing

DEBUT Australia 2019

TRAINER Gabriel Guerrero

RACE ENGINEER Théo Beaufoy

MANAGER Anya DuPont

ASSISTANT Beatrice Roux

WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 1 (2022)

SPONSORS Gucci

𐙚 FUN FACTS!

Juliette drove for Mercedes in her rookie year, she got four wins and 326 points . . . fans of course were not happy that a female was dominating her rookie year, so of course a nasty rumor was created. The rumor that spread like hot fire was that Juliette was having an inappropriate relationship with Toto Wolff.

Which was false, Toto was like a father figure to Juliette but the fans didn’t care, booing her and trending hate for her on Twitter.

Juliette drove for Redbull for the next season, and is still driving for Redbull.

Juliette is known for being one of the most influential drivers on the grid, for the range of her career.

Juliette has dropped a few albums, some singles and ep’s, she’s a model, an ambassador for Gucci, and she has a YouTube channel with over 10 million subscribers, where she posts all different kinds of content, she’s walked on runways.

The interviewers love her (besides a few) a lot of fans say she’s like seb with how she has the habit of flirting with the female interviewers.

She is quite the flirt, confident with herself

She’s a party girl, in a club or an a yacht, she loves her parties !!

A lot of people assume she’s a bitch because of her resting face, her confidence and the way she doesn’t take any shit, but she’s genuinely a sweetheart.

Besides Lewis she is the driver that has the most celebrity friends

No one is surviving eye contact with her, in the words of lando “she has a really strong gaze, very alluring — like a siren yeah”

The amount of dating rumors lando and Juliette have is insane, but they are simply just best friends !!!

She loves pomegranates and cherries, could eat them forever

She loves swimming, she loves visiting tropical places

Everyone swears she’s a mermaid/siren for her love of the water

She has stated many times that her favorite sport besides f1 is hockey.

She has been seen coming to many hockey games, even having many friends that are hockey players. (Auston Matthews, Trevor Zegras, Cole caufield and more)

She loves baking

She owns several houses all over the world

She is a major passenger princess

SHE IS THE IT GIRL

She hates coffee

She definitely loves going out and partying, but she also loves staying in.

She was such a daddy’s girl

She talks to her mom every single day

She loves and I mean loves running

No matter how hungover she is, she’s always having her morning run.

She loves and I mean loves horses !!

Her dream is to retire, buy her own ranch and just get a ton of horses to take care of and love, maybe her own vineyard.

Her most prized possession is her yacht . . . That’s crazy to say omg.

She has kept all of her relationships a secret!

She loves doing collaborations

A character she’s most like is Blair waldorf

She doesn’t have a favorite color

She’s a very strong woman, but sometimes things really get to her and she just needs space.

She has a bad habit of distancing herself from others when she’s hurt or upset

She’s been to 3 met galas

She will kick anyone’s ass in golf

‘The princess of Monaco’

She is very open about her crush on leighton meester

She’s a switch

She has a great relationship with everyone on the grid !

Her and Pierre have a love hate relationship

She has such a flirty personality, she loves making people flustered.

She’s a fantastic driver, and won’t let anyone tell her different just because she’s a girl.

She has said her grid son is ollie bearman

Yuki loves her sm! They are such a underrated duo

She loves hockey, but she’s a terrible skater

She hates drive to survive, they like to make her and max look like the villain.

She secretly can’t stand one driver on the grid.

She loves sleep sm

She’s genuinely such a family girl

She was the trouble maker of her family

She hates cold feet

Her brother’s friends have always had a crush on her and she loved teasing them about it.

She keeps her music taste a secret from the public

Lewis will always have her back no matter what, she’s his grid kid.

The public goes crazy for post race Juliette

She loves her team, she’s extremely close to all of them !!

She alternates from black to red hair a lot, but her hair is very healthy !!!

Doesn’t go anywhere without a pair of sunglasses

Macaroons are the way to her heart 

A lot of people get surprised by how friendly she is

She loves game of thrones

She is not a lightweight

Is a really good dancer !! Did ballet for a long time

Low waisted pants are her best friend.

The only one who can rock Jorts

Always has red or black nails

She’s a silver girly

Her nicknames are, Julie and lettie.

Has a private Instagram ‘@/lettiesworld’

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( so this is the introduction to juliette !! I really hope you guys like her, omg I’m so excited for this AU !!! I didn’t mention Mat and Quinn because they will have their own profile !!! Oh I’m so excited, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

©️WINTFLEUR

[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. Some fingering and teasing and dirty talk this chap

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8,033 

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name.

Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right?

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2

You have no clue how you have survived these past couple of weeks, of watching Satoru… or Professor Dickhead… walk through the halls, like he owned them, hands in his pockets, dressed constantly like a million bucks. Of him lecturing your class, his eyes catching yours just so. Of his little comments, as he challenged you constantly in every class.

You mull over your day in class as you thumb through a philosophy book in the library.

"Let's consider another scenario.” He looks at you, and you sigh when he calls your name, he frequently gives you the hardest questions.

“Yes, Professor Gojo?” Professor Dickhead.

“Say you are a defense attorney representing a client accused of murder. The evidence against your client is overwhelming, and you even think that they may truly be guilty. However, your client confesses to you that they are innocent, and that the real killer is someone else who will strike again if they are convicted. What do you do?"

The question hangs in the air like a storm cloud, pressing down on you. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart racing in your chest. The class is silent, taking pity on you, as they usually did, since Gojo loved to throw advanced moral dilemmas your way.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I would have to do everything in my power to find the real killer, Professor Gojo. I would gather as much evidence as possible and investigate every lead, no matter how small. Even if it meant risking my client, I would not give up until justice was served."

There's a murmur of agreement from some of the students, but you can also sense the unease in the air. You can feel Professor Gojo's icy blue gaze burning into you, and you know that he's not just evaluating your answer, but he’s evaluating you , looking down your face, your lips, briefly at your chest, heating you up with every second he stands there.

"An admirable answer, I suppose." He says finally, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re bright fucking red on your cheeks and ears now. "But let's consider the consequences of that. If you were to go down this path, you might be seen as an obstructive defense attorney, who is so obsessed with the truth she hurts her client.”

You gulp, hating the way he leans on your desk, how he casually destroys your psyche. “With all due respect Professor Gojo, I disagree.”

He raises a brow, smirking, looking so handsome you wanna smack him. There had been nothing but shared looks for two weeks, you all had crossed no lines, but every move of his makes you ache, so you despise him more. “Oh? You disagree, do you? Explain, please.”

“What sort of attorney would I be if I don’t seek the truth?”

“A shit one for defense. You’re thinking about prosecution.” His voice is mocking, as he leans forward on your desk now. “Even so, what if despite your best efforts, you were unable to find the real killer? Your client's fate rests solely on your shoulders."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. The weight of his words is crushing, and you can't help but wonder if you've made the right choice, being here, you begin to feel those hits of doubt. Professor Gojo's gaze pierces you like a knife, making you feel exposed.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself. "My responsibility as their lawyer is to provide them with the best possible advice and guidance of course, while also upholding my own personal values. I will not put those aside."

The classroom is silent as your words hang in the air. You can feel the tension building, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see how this will play out. You glance over at Professor Gojo, and his expression is unreadable, as his lips then turn up, into a little smirk, shocking you.

“You stand by your convictions, even if it fucks you over? Fucks over your entire career?” His voice raises a bit, that silken timbre hitting hard. You nod, and the bell thankfully rings. “We’ll touch more on that next week.”

The class files out, and so many people go up to him, to his desk, to ask questions or to talk, you slip out quickly, heart fucking racing. He seemed to delight in putting you on the spot, in pushing his experience and authority on you. It was overwhelming. But in a weird way, it gives you some fucking insane thrill, one you question…

***

You peek at your phone, Maki is inviting you to a party tonight. Though at the same school, you all don’t see each other much, in different dorms and different classes. You answer with an ambiguous maybe, sighing when you think of the last time you went out… when that infuriating man made you cum so fucking hard you throb thinking of it.

Fucking Gojo.

You thumb through the book, as a pretty girl comes in, wearing a gorgeous red business suit. She smiles at you, her hair is a dark brown with bangs that gently frame her face, she has a little scar on her cheek that seems to only make her more captivating. She walks to you, smiling.

“Heard Professor Gojo is giving you a hard time, huh?” You flush at that, looking down a bit. “I’m Professor Geto’s teaching assistant. Utahime.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Utahime. I've seen you around.” You stand and shake her hand, which has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Of course. I've been getting started at this new position. But Gojo? He’s a shithead.” You snort at that, and she grins. “He’s a damn good lawyer, and teacher, but he pushes hard. He pushed me very hard, I think I contemplated killing him and being my own attorney.”

You burst out laughing then, you instantly like her. “He’s a challenging professor, which I enjoy, but he certainly is-”

“Fucking gorgeous? I know ladies, you don’t have to go on about it.” Gojo walks in, his Gucci shades on, thankfully covering those ridiculous eyes of his, and his hair is casually falling over his forehead. Utahime scowls at him.

“You fucking wish, Gojo.” He sticks his tongue out at her, she flips him off, and you can’t stop your giggle.

“Something funny, Miss Brat?” He demands, staring at you, and Utahime shoves at him now. He runs around the empty library as she smacks at him.

“Gojo, do not even!”

“What Hime, jealous? Ouch!” She thwacks him good then, and you’re enamored how wild these ‘professionals’ are. In a way it’s kinda fucking awesome.

“Her name isn’t Miss Brat . Get your shit together, god.”

“You’re still sad I didn’t fuck you that night, hmm? After all these years! Ow, shit that hurts! That’ll leave a fucking mark!”

“I never wanted to fuck you, dickhead. Ugh. Anyway, let me know if you need anything…” She says your name, turning from a vicious little thing to a sweetheart, you smile at her, and Gojo scowls.

“I will, I really appreciate that! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Bye hunny.” She waves, scowling at Gojo as she shoves past him, and he huffs.

“Bye Hime!” She flips him off again, storming out, and you’re in a fit of giggles now, until his gaze catches you, pushing down those round shades just so. “Well, Miss Brat, whatchya reading hmm?”

He snatches the book from your hands, and you glare up at him, standing up and trying to grab it, but fucker was way too tall, you end up hopping up as he grins like some psycho, holding it out of your reach. You huff and he peers up at it, pursing those pretty glossy lips of his.

“Hmm… didn’t take you for an Aristotle girl.” He muses, and you sigh, sitting back down, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, and he pulls a chair, spinning it and straddling it, resting his arms on the back casually. You gulp, thinking how fucking hot he looks, shoving that down hard.

“Figured you’d like Plato.  Aristotle is a bit too logical for someone as feisty as you.” He says, flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning over it.

“I can be logical…” He smirks at that. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?” You ask, and he smirks, placing the book down in front of you, leaning across with those stupid long arms. All of him was stupid long… 

Fuck.

“Blushing? From me just near you?” He taunts, leaning closer, you take a shaky breath, inhaling that likely expensive cologne he wore that made him even more delectable to you.

Fuck Fuck.

“No, it's just warm in here.” He laughs at your lie, and you pick the book back up, flipping to the page you were on and trying to ignore him.

“Hmm, I have an idea, Miss Brat.”

“That’s not my name, Professor Dickhead. What’s the idea?” Your eyes narrow as he slides off his shades, those glittering eyes boring into your face.

“Write a ten page essay on this book.” He taps the philosophy book you’re reading, you frown at that.

“I have enough work to do. Why extra, on philosophy?”

“Because you’ll get a reward for it. Something no one gets as a first semester, let alone a first year. What ya think?” You bite your lip a bit, taking a shaky little breath. “You’re tempted, hmm?”

“What reward?” Your eyes narrow, and he throws back his head with laughter, making you flush more.

“Not anything like that, you’re such a pervy little brat.” You scowl, standing then and gathering your books. He grips your wrist, your throat goes dry at the touch, looking down at him and his fucking grin. “Stop, you haven’t even heard me out.”

You exhale, yanking your arm back, hating what every little brush of his skin did to your body. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll take you on a field trip.” He says with a grin, you roll your eyes, snorting, before laughing hard. He glares, yanking your wrist again. “Excuse me, Miss Brat, I am your professor. You’re so disrespectful.”

“Sorry. A field trip? To where, the Zoo, Sir?” You keep giggling, and he stands, shutting them up when he’s just an inch from you with that hard body. You exhale, biting your lip again, and he gently puts his thumb to your lip, easing it from out of your teeth, shooting desire hard through your entire body.

“I wish corporal punishment was still a thing. I’d whip the fuck out of you.” He glares, and you don’t laugh then, because the thought of Gojo bending you over his desk smacking you? Yeah that did insane things…

“Sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You manage, sighing and looking up at him, clutching your books nervously to your chest. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll bring you to the case I’m working on, it’s a big one-”

“The fucking case where where the politician’s son is accused of killing that prostitute?” You interrupt, your eyes wide, he smirks.

“You would know what case I'm in. Stalker .”

You roll your eyes. “Not at all… but of course I know about it. It’s all over the news and everything. I heavily follow cases. How the fuck can I get on that? Like would the school let me?”

“Easy, write the essay. Impress me, and I’ll get the approval for it. You’re a star student already, it should be easy for you to come along. Maybe it’ll help you decide on a major, seeing the real world of law, hmm?” He suggests, and you nod eagerly. “Knew you’d be in for it. One more condition.”

“What, anything!” He smirks at your enthusiasm, and you brush your hair back nervously.

“I need it done by tomorrow. And you’ll read it out to me.” You frown at that, brows knitting, as you think of the work you’re swamped with. “If you can read it proficiently, under pressure, I’ll take you.”

“Under pressure?” You sigh when he smirks again. “Fuck… I mean… yeah, I’ll do it. I can.”

“Exactly what I thought.” He brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, and you tense, eyes locking on his lips. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“Um… yeah, I do a lot.”

“Not face makeup. Usually just your eyes.” You blink at that, wishing you could make your heart stop racing inside your chest.

“Ah… I mean, maybe that’s true. I looked a little pale so I threw on some bronzer.”

“Hmm. You don’t need it.” He backs away now, hands in his pockets, and you can just barely breathe now. How did he notice things like that? “All right, I’ll see you in my office at five pm sharp with it.”

You fidget, peeking at your watch. You had less than twenty hours and that was with no sleep. “I will be there with it.”

“All right Miss Brat, hop to it.” He winks at you as he walks out, so casually, and you sink back down into the chair, fucking breathless. The scariest shit? You were just as excited to spend time with Satoru as you were to see this court case, what the fuck did that say about you?

You pull out your laptop, getting to work, the library isn’t busy at this time, so you can focus on the essay without distraction. As you write, you can’t help but think of Satoru, his touch, his smell, his voice. You shake your head, focusing on the words in front of you, you could do this, you could totally knock out a ten page essay for a chance at this.

***

The next day you’re fucking drained, going through each lecture exhausted, to the point Professor Geto stopped you after class, concerned look on his handsome face, and Utahime also comes to you. She’s frowning, and you hold in your yawn, struggling to smile.

“I’m fine you all, just had an extra credit thing for Mr. Gojo.” Professor Geto smirks then, rolling his eyes, and Utahime huffs.

“Dear god, what extra credit!” Utahime whispers, and you laugh a bit at her expression, shaking your head.

“Not anything crazy. A ten page essay on this book about Aristotle he found me reading.” You hold it up, and Professor grabs it, with his elegant hands, humming a bit to himself as he studies your face then.

“Huh, Aristotle? Would take you for a Plato girl.” You giggle then, so tired you’ve lost it, yawning wide.

“Satoru…. I mean shit.” You freeze, and they both look at you curiously, making you flush red. “Professor Gojo said that too.”

“Mmm, we are best friends, makes sense.” He hands it back to you with a smile, Professor Geto was devastatingly handsome with his angled features and long hair. Another model to fuck with all of you students.

He held himself with a quiet allure, confident but not overtly insane like Satoru… Professor Gojo… fuck. You needed to be more careful.

“He shouldn’t be giving her extra work.” Utahime says to Geto, and he sighs, looking at you with chocolate eyes.

“Well, what’s the reward?” You grin at that.

“Going to his court case tomorrow.”

“Well your eyes lit right up.” Geto muses, and even Utahime nods. 

“I’d have done it too.” She comes to you and rubs your shoulder softly. “You’re done with it already?”

“Mmhmm. I have to read it to him though, ugh.”

Geto is just grinning now, and Utahime rolls her eyes. “Satoru is such a little shit, I swear. Just go in with confidence, you’ll do well.” He also touches your shoulder gently with a little smile.

You smile at them both. “Thank you all. Promise I’ll get to sleep tonight! Shit, what time is it?”

“Four fifty.”

“I gotta go! Bye!” You run out of the classroom then, exhaling as you head to Gojo’s office.

You knock on the door when you get there, and he calls out for you to enter. The office is surprisingly neat when you walk in it, a stark contrast to the chaos he brings into your life you think, but his classroom was also impeccable, so it makes sense. He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at you with those piercing eyes, leaning his chin on his hands with a smirk, looking fucking irresistable as ever.

“You’re just on time. Good.” You walk over and place the essay down. “Ah-ah. You're reading it to me, remember?”

You bite your lip, exhaling nervously, taking the paper back, then you squeak in surprise as he picks you up, sitting you on his big black desk. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s gone to lock his door, a loud click resonating, your thoughts run fucking crazy when he’s behind you, taking your hair down out of its bun, bobby pins scattering along the desk.

“What the fuck?” You look up at him incredulously, but he just has a huge grin, his fangs glistening in the soft light of his office.

“Remember I said you’d read it under pressure?” You scowl, as he walks slowly around the desk until he’s in front of you, looming so tall, bending over until his lips are just a breath away.

You clear your throat, tilting your head back to look at him. “What about it has to do with my hair down?”

His grin grows, and he gently places a thumb and forefinger under your chin. “Nothing, I just like your hair down.”

“You’re such a shithead.” He chuckles at that, then eyes you intently.

“What is pressuring is how you feel for me.” Your mouth drops open, and you’re sputtering for a moment, opening and closing it. “You can’t act like it’s not true, just a touch…” He barely brushes a bare thigh, you hold in your moan. “Makes you tremble. And just a…” He leans in so close, breath hot against your lips. “Yeah, it makes you bright fucking red.”

“Does not.” You glare, and he just shakes his head with that annoying smirk plastered on his face, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your body now.

“Your thighs shift when you are watching me in class.” You bite back another moan, struggling to keep still, but you fail, your thighs do fucking move together. “Just like that. Think I didn't notice?” His blue eyes hit yours, and your resolve wavers.

“So my thighs shift… So what?” He leans even closer, and his thumbs brush the sensitive part of your inner thighs, making you fucking wet immediately, and you hate him for it.

“You wriggle your hips when you watch me too. Like this.” He takes them in his hands, pressing you hard on the desk, and you can’t stop the whine that comes from the back of your throat. “Need that friction hmm?”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You whisper, feeling tears prick your eyes then, your breaths coming in little pants. “Why do this? Why push me so goddamn hard, call me out all the fucking time, with some advanced essay request? Do you really fucking dislike me so much-”

“Dislike?” He cuts you off with a glare, and you blink rapidly, swiping the little tears that fell. “You’re not as smart as I thought.”

“And you call me unintelligent! What the fuck even is this?” You go to get down and he holds you there, hands on your waist, so big they nearly cover it, squeezing and making you moan again. “Fuck, you…”

“I push you because I see potential.” He cuts you off then, and you meet his gaze, which has grown serious. “I’m doing this because…” He trails off, easing his grip and sliding his hands down your body. “Because I’m masochistic.”

You sniffle a bit, shaking your head. “You’re pushing me so hard.”

“I know. And I won’t stop.” He tilts your chin again, making you gaze at that pretty fucking face. “Now, the point is, your desire for me makes you unfocused. It’s a challenge. So we use it, and you push through it, can you do it?”

You tremble, hands hot and sweaty. You suck in a breath, shutting your eyes for a moment and focusing. You wanted to deny it, to not admit what was blatantly obvious to this conceited man. But… “Yes. I can do it.”

“Good girl.” His hands brush your hair back as he murmurs those words, in that deep timbre, you…

Fuck.

“Don’t say that.” You hate what it does to you, his words, that shit eating grin when your watery eyes open.

“Now, begin, Miss Brat. Let’s see how you handle this.” His breath is against your neck again, tickling delicate skin, making you shiver. “If you do well, you’re in tomorrow. I won’t push anything too far either, just enough to throw you off. Okay?”

You nod, realizing the challenge he was throwing, and you pick up your papers, reading out loud in the most confident voice you can muster. “Aristotle's idea of natural law holds that certain principles are inherent in human nature. That has helped to shape the development of natural law theory. Mmnh…” Saroru’s big hands brush up your thighs, making you wetter between them, you struggle to focus.

“Continue on, Miss Brat, you’ve just begun.” You clench your teeth as his fingers brush little circles, hypnotizing you, taking over all of your damn senses.

“Aristotle's emphasis on human reason and the balance between individual rights and social order has influenced the development of constitutionalism, far more than his counterparts or teachers. Plato and Socrates for example… unh. Fuck!” He laughs as he kisses your thigh, bent down between you, and your eyes go wide. Just a brush of his lips, you drop the paper.

He bends down to grab it, his breath so close to where you ache for him you feel tears prick your eyes. He smirks as he hands it back to you, leaning in close now. “So that’s what really gets you, does it remind you of that night?” He purrs the fucking words, and you clench your jaw so hard it hurts. “Does it?”

“Yes, fuck. Ugh.” You look away, and you hate it when he’s leaned against you again, as he’s read you like a book.

“Continue on, you can do this.” He orders, so casually, like he wasn't destroying your mind.

You take a breath, struggling to keep it together, when he decides to run his fingers through your hair now, reading more of the essay. You struggle not to just arch your head and enjoy it, but no, you’ve gotta fucking focus. “Aristotle's concept of justice as a balance between extremes has influenced legal theories, especially when it comes to justice as we know it… Fuck… please…”

“Shh.” His breath is hot on your ear, he nips the earlobe just so with his sharp teeth, flicking his tongue on it. You clench your thighs tight, damn near aching with how bad you want him. “Keep going, baby girl. Remember, you’re under pressure.”

You struggle to focus as the words jumble further on your paper. “Ethics is the most emphasis surely, as his focus on human character has led to a greater focus on ethical considerations in decision-making. It brings to light all of the things that make human beings tick and…”

You inhale sharply when he's behind you, brushing your hair to the side with one hand, then sliding off your blazer. “Aww, you’re a whole Aristotle stan, aren’t you baby girl? I’m so intrigued.”

 “Professor Gojo…” You trail off, he has his big hands on your shoulders, burning you through the blouse with his touch.

“You're doing really well.” He praises you, and you are surprised as fuck. “Keep going, pretty. Almost done.”

“Fuck…” You shake yourself out of it. “As for Aristotle's methodology, which emphasized empirical observation and scientific inquiry, it has influenced the development of evidence based decision making in law. It makes… mmm…”

Satoru is in front of you, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek. “No bronzer today hmm?” You flush, shaking your head. “Good, you have a natural blush when around me. Continue.” His face is buried in your hair, then soft lips kiss your temple. You're trembling so bad, trying to hold it together.

“Aristotle's concept of stability and continuity has influenced the development of legal systems as we know it. Without Aristotle's advanced ideas, we may have been much further behind. His ideas… carry…” You're almost done when he brushes his hands down the side of your breasts, blue eyes locked on yours.

“You're so close, pretty. Finish. ” He watches your back arch when he brushes his thumbs over the taut nipples, over your lacy bra and the blouse, you nearly lose it. But you finish. You fucking do it.

“To…to conclude, Aristotle's ideas have had a profound impact on various aspects of legal thought and practice, and they are still shaping the way we think about law today.”

“Good," He says, his voice gruff. "It's good."

You look up at him, your heart racing, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the very room seems to hold its breath, and you can feel the electricity flickering between you. The tension is so palpable you could reach out and touch it, he is unusually quiet and serious, when you lean in slightly, your body betrays you, and he mirrors the movement, his face just inches from yours.

“Was it okay, Satoru? Really?” You whisper, he cups your face, nodding, and you're even closer, your hand is pulling on his tie, you can taste his minty breath, tempting you further.

“It was really good. I wouldn’t say if not. Especially for one day.” His fingers play along the neckline of your blouse, brushing your collarbone, he leaves goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Thank you… I…”

But before anything happens, there is a knock on the door. Thank god, what even could happen between you two that would be anything other than an entire disaster?

“Busy.” Gojo mutters, and they seem to leave. He exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment and resting his forehead on yours, holding your face gently, before pulling back and staring down at you.

“What is it?” You murmur, and he shakes his head, sighing.

“You look so hot on my damn desk. This image is gonna be burned in my fucking brain.” He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

“I…” You trail off, letting go of his tie and looking down. “Sorry, I got carried away a bit I think.”

“You?” He scoffs at that, and leans in again, barring you with his arms against the desk, gaze devouring you. “You get to go. You did a really good job.”

“Oh my god! Really?” He nods, and you grin, throwing your arms around his neck eagerly and hugging him. He tenses, and you ease away, but he pulls you back against him, standing up and holding you.

You’re dangling there in his arms as you hug him tightly, and you bury your face in his neck for a moment, feeling how good that hard body is on yours, his thrumming heart against your aching breasts. How good he smells, you want to inhale his scent forever. How much this reminds you of that night, of the guy you instantly fucking liked and wanted.

You…

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Got carried away again.” You murmur, and he eases you down, hands not leaving your little waist, he looks down at you, so intense, you can see your desire mirrored in him. In his parted lips. In his hooded eyes. “I'm tired and not thinking right.”

“Don’t apologize.” He says, voice husky.

“I’m really excited.” You ease your arms down, struggling to come down to Earth, to reality, which is damn near impossible, as you can hear your panting breaths and loud heartbeat in his quiet office.

“I’m glad. It’ll be in the morning, so just make sure to prep.” You nod eagerly, then turn to grab your things off his desk, and you’re against him again. He hisses, gripping you tight around your hips, thumbs pushing into your lower back.

You look back over your shoulder. “Satoru?”

“Why is your ass so goddamn nice? Especially in this fucking skirt.” He demands through clenched teeth, and you feel his hands tighten further, bruising grip, as he presses you against the desk.

“Fuck…” You manage to cry out, covering your mouth, when you feel his length hot and hard against the small of your back.

“Yeah, fuck.” He mutters, his hands grab your hair tight then, still loose and flowing, and you arch your head back, fucking uncaring at this point. He could fuck you then and there and you’d literally say thank you.

Why did he make you like this?

“Satoru…” It’s a little whine, his name.

“Why does my name sound so good on those fucking lips?” He’s muttering the words through gritted teeth, and pulls your head until you face him. “Do you know how badly I wanna bend you over this desk and feel that tight cunt around me?”

You manage a shake of your head, blinking rapidly, his hands slide your skirt up, and you grind your ass back for more, moaning. You know you all can’t do it, you fucking know, but the thoughts… the touches…  when he pulls the fabric of your skirt as he pulls your hair, and you breathe into each other's lips.

“We… shouldn’t… right?” You manage, his lips ghosting above yours, before easing his grip. He exhales, kissing your shoulder, sliding your skirt down, leaning over you to grab your blazer.

“I… ahem…” He puts on a smirk suddenly. “I know I get you so horny and wet, but control yourself, Miss Brat.”

‘You fucking ass!” You turn around and shove him hard, he snatches you up, wrapping the blazer around your shoulders, laughing.

“Am I wrong? Bet she’s soaked.” He slides his hand back up, and it takes everything in you to smack his hand.

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead.” You huff, pushing past him.

“Wait…” You turn to him, glaring, and he’s got his hand running through that silvery white hair again, messing it up, making this literal perfect man look just a bit human.

“What?”

“Let me take you to your dorm. It’s gonna rain.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “No?”

“It’s not gonna rain. It was nice out…” Thunder claps in the background, making you jump a bit, and he just smirks. You wanna smack him. “I’ll go out in it.”

Now he glares at you. “You wanna be soaked? More than you already are.” He looks down at your lap again, you turn away. “Jesus, you're so stubborn. Will you please let me?”

“Whatever, why?” He walks past you, unlocking the door.

“You gotta be presentable tomorrow, not all sick because you got drenched. Come on, it's not like it’ll be long.” He grabs an umbrella, a long clear one, and snatches up his briefcase as well.

You quietly follow him out of the office, and through the school, until you’re at the door and see how badly it is raining, pouring down and the wind is going insane, making rain swirl around. Gojo opens the door for you, popping the giant umbrella out and putting it on top of you both.

It’s a downpour, soaking everything in seconds, except for the two of you under the clear shelter of the umbrella. You can feel the heat of his body through the fabric as he holds you close, and even with the chill of the rain, it’s like you’re on fire. Every step you take is a battle against the urge to lean into him, to let him consume you, to just say fuck it and epic kiss in the rain.

You can’t.

You don’t.

You keep walking, trying to keep your mind on anything but how badly you want to feel his hands all over you again, a mere tease, making you shiver as you all near his car, a fancy silver sports car likely worth more than anything you’ve ever seen. He opens the door, holding the umbrella still, and you climb in quickly, shivering as he comes to the other side.

Gojo revs up the engine, and the car lights up, you’re trembling as you watch his big hand wrap around the gear shift, putting the car into drive, but he looks at you first, catching your hungry fucking gaze and smirking. 

“Seatbelt, Miss Brat.” You giggle a bit, breathless, sliding it in with trembling hands.

“Sorry.” You manage, and then the car zips through the soaking wet streets. You find yourself enamored by him, by every clench of his jaw, by the way his hand grips the steering wheel.

“Need to take a picture?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, sighing, hugging the blazer around you a bit.

“Should have asked you that with me on your desk.” He smirks at that, his blue eyes catch yours just so, the windshield working overtime as you all sit at the stop sign, waiting.

“I’ve got a whole fucking mental picture I’ll use later.” You feel overheated, your chest tight with his words, fidgeting with your hands, exhaling. The rain is spattering on the roof, and it’s just you and him, together, side by side. No school, no bar, nothing but you and… “You okay? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, just cold.” You lie straight up, shivering more. But you know it’s not the cold. It’s him. It’s the way he makes you feel, full of fucking desire that throbs through you.

“Want the heat on?” He asks softly, you shake your head, smiling over at him, as the car speeds through the wet streets, the rain beating a rhythmic pattern on the windshield, the wipers swiping back and forth in a hypnotizing dance. All of it was making your resolve lower.

“No, it's a quick ride, don’t worry.” You murmur, tensing when one of his hands goes to your thighs then, hot and burning on your chilled skin, goosebumps rising where he touches. You can feel your heart racing, your breathing getting heavier.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He says, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, and you blush harder than you thought possible as you look at him, realizing you all were at a stop now.

“Don’t say things like that, please… you don’t understand what they do to me.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, avoiding that gaze.

“Baby girl… I know what it does to you.” His hand climbs higher, and you can’t breathe, it’s like the car is suffocating you now.

“Then don’t.” You manage to bite out, and Satoru turns back to the road, continuing to drive in the rain, and the car ride is tense, the scent of his cologne fills the small space intermingling with your own scent.

As you pull up to your dorm, you finally dare to glance at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark and intense, watching you, his gaze going down to where his hand is on your thigh. You shift in your seat, internally cursing, slick desire dripping down through your inner thighs even, so close to where his hand was it would only take the smallest inch further to reveal it.

"Listen," he says, his voice low and serious. "This isn't going to be a cakewalk. You're coming to a serious case tomorrow. You need to be on your toes."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I understand. I'll be ready."

“And you won’t be interfering.” He slides his hand fucking higher, and your heart is racing now. “You don’t smack my hand away. Why?”

“You even have to ask?” You bit out, looking at him now, your lips parting, his eyes dart to them, hunger in their blue depths.

“You should smack it away.” He says, husky, and you go to take his hand off you, but you falter, instead you grip it, sliding it up that inch, to where his thumb feels it, feels the sticky wetness on you. He exhales, gripping you tightly, sliding his hand up until it comes in contact with your dripping cunt.

“Fuck…” You curse, when his thumb brushes you over your panties, and he exhales, moaning, leaning over you, and you all sit there for a moment, the rain thundering around you, your heart beating so loud it’s all you can hear.

“Saoaking fucking wet.” He murmurs, swirling his finger again and pressing up, and you fucking lose it, moaning, arching your hips up, gripping onto his business jacket, your lips right next to him.

“We shouldn’t…” You whisper, and then cry out when his long fingers stroke you up and down. “I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t be…”

“Why don’t you let me get you off real quick?” Satoru murmurs, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your panties now, moaning when he fully feels you, and you’re already gushing from just that.

“Fuck… Satoru… “ You hiss at his touch. “I can’t get it out of my fucking head. And I hate you for that.” You mumble, he tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing as he slides a finger up in you, and you throb around it, cries loud in the little car, louder than the pouring rain.

“You hate me, hmm?” He whispers, and you nod, tears pricking your eyes when he crooks his finger now, breath against your lips, you grind shamelessly in the chair, tummy clenching when he finds that spot.

“Yes. Fuck you for knowing my body somehow. And… fuck… mmmn…” Your eyes flutter shut when he crooks up again, hitting the little spot again, you see stars and black dots everywhere, cursing.

“Well guess what?” He leans even further, even closer, brows drawing low. “Fuck you for this perfect little pussy. Fuck you for being so wet.” You’re whining, pathetic now, tears pricking your eyes, as he slides his finger out, leaving you gasping.

“Fuck you completely.” You shove at him, and he scowls, then brings his finger to his mouth, sucking you off him, moaning, shutting his eyes, so fucking sexy. “Fuck you for looking like that!”

“Fuck you for tasting so fucking good.” He growls, and you’re both panting, your wetness is on his full lips. “I thought it was just alcohol, but nope. You taste as good as I remember. Now I think of eating you out while you’re at your fucking seat in class.”

“I think about sucking your dick under the fucking desk. So.” He blinks at that, and you turn insanely red, looking away. “And fuck you for that too.”

“Fuck you for always eye fucking me in class.” He growls the words, yanking your hair back, dominating every bit of your body and mind.

“Fuck you for… just fuck you, Satoru.” You’re crying now, and he’s watching you, smirking at you.

“ Are you crying ?” Your fingers itch to smack him, you shake your head, and you all sit there for a second, the rain getting harder, the windows fogging up with the heat from you two in the car, and you want to fucking kiss him so badly... You want to grab his hair and pull him into you, so he doesn’t stop, so he never stops.

But you don’t.

Because you’re both fucking insane, and you’re in a car, outside your fucking dorm. So instead you sit there, panting, trembling, staring at him, and he at you, as his grip loosens just slightly, as you feel yourself getting so wet your panties are ruined just like the damn night you met him.

“Not crying.” You say, firmly, and he smirks down you, so fucking charming and gorgeous you wanna smack him.

“You don’t wanna get off, baby girl?” He whispers, sliding his hand back down your waist, making you make some pathetic wine he seemed to enjoy.

“Of course I do, but where does it lead? Me fucking riding you in the car?” He grins big then. “Satoru…”

“You can’t just get off? You gotta fuck me hmm?”

“I need to go.” You unsnap your seatbelt, shaking hands fumbling, he slides his hands off you, unbuckling it for you.

“Poor baby can’t function, huh?” You glare again at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Gonna be all horny in the court room, how can you go?”

“I’ll use my rose toy.” At that his eyebrows shoot up, and you cover your mouth, falling back in your seat. “Fucking ignore that.”

“I am going to need a video of that.” You shove him, and he’s laughing at you now, with that pretty grin of his. It sucks.

This sucks.

“You wish, Professor Dickhead.” You go to open the door, peering at how bad it’s still down pouring.

He’s out of the car in a moment, then he’s opening yours, holding the umbrella up high so that you two are back under it together, he’s looking down at you, that white hair just a little wet. You errantly brush it back, then put your hand down, flushing, realizing where you were, who you both were. He takes the hand then, leading you to the doorway, which had an overhang.

“I’ll be here at 8 AM sharp, Miss Brat.” He murmurs, still too close, body still up against yours. You nod, shy suddenly, next to the man that had just tasted you, your fucking Professor. “Want my number?”

“What? No.” He laughs at you, white teeth showing, and it lights up his stupidly pretty face.

“Do you know how many women would die for my number?” You shrug, and he continues to laugh. “You’re such a little brat.”

“Am not. I just don’t want it.” You look down, at his exposed neck, where the knot of his tie had come loose, and your shaky hands go to slide the knot back up, you hear his hitch of his breath, see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“If you’re going to this case we need to keep in contact. I won’t be sending you dick pics, you’re not that lucky.” He winks and you chuckle against your own will, shaking your head and smoothing your hand down his tie.

“Mmm, true. You won’t get any videos either, Professor Dickhead.” He pouts at that, taking his phone out of his pocket then.

“My heart’s broken. But don’t worry.” He leans close, whispering in your ear, tickling it like crazy, making you throb with need. “I remember exactly how that pretty pussy looks.”

“Fuck off.” You whisper, pathetically, you don’t move, and you don’t mean it, though. Pathetic for this idiot professor who was ruining you with casual, silly little fucking movements. “Hate you.”

“I hate you . Hate how good you smell. Taste. Annoying brat.” You pull back to glare up at him, meeting his scowl. “Take my number, brat, and count yourself lucky to have it.”

“Conceited dick.” You take out your phone, and scan his little code, he pops right up in your phone. You giggle maniacally when you change his name in there, and he scowls at you.

“What’s so funny, brat?” You show him his name - Professor Dickhead- and he rolls his eyes, glaring at his phone, then smirking maniacally back, when he snaps a pic of you so quick it throws you off.

“What? Satoru!” You yank and hop up and he finally lets you see the phone, and it’s literally a pic of your cleavage in a top that’s ever so sheer and wet, with the name ‘Miss Brat’. “Dick!”

“Bitch.” You huff, turning away, and he snatches you by your wrist. “Don’t you want a picture of me?”

“Nope, sure don’t. I see you enough and it annoys me.” His laugh is hot against your neck.

“You’re a good liar, that will make you a great lawyer.” You turn to glare up at him, his touch eases, he’s just barely brushing his fingers down your hand now. You ache to hold his hand in your own, to entwine your fingers in his.

“Really, thank you, I am excited for tomorrow.” You whisper, and he sighs, hands releasing you now. You are just standing in front of him in the rain, under the cocoon the umbrella keeps you all in, hearing his breaths behind you.

“You’re welcome, little brat. Maybe if this works out and you bust your nice little fucking ass…” You yelp when he pinches you, whirling back around. “Then you’ll be in line to earn that internship. You’ve got a few months still, but…”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. He shrugs, casually.

“If you can keep up with how hard I’m going to push you.” The words take on something else, your mind is fucking wrecked you realize.

“I can take it.” He smiles at that, touching your chin gently.

“All right, go on in, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You dash inside, and your heart is fucking pounding, when you’re up in your room you hop out of all your clothes, wincing when you slide off the underwear that’s just sticking to your goddamn thighs now. You start the shower, cursing internally as you peek at your phone, at his goddamn number.

You’d been ready to fuck this guy on his desk, on his car…

And you had shit for experience.

You wouldn’t say it, but it made it all even worse, you were so far out of your wheelhouse as it was. You struggle not to touch yourself in the damn shower, to not push this all way further than it needed to be, but you find your clit and lean back against the tile wall.

Images of him fill your head, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes had gone dark blue when he touched you. The way his voice had gotten all low and gruff when he said he fucking hated you. You start moaning out loud, as you slip your fingers in, stroking fast, but it’s nothing like just one of his ridiculously long fingers, you can’t hit that damn spot.

You go back to rubbing your clit because at this point it’s puffy and so sensitive it happens fast. You come hard, gripping the little shower bar and leaning, your knees wobbling, feeling like a damn mess, and it’s all because of him. When you’re done you slump against the wall, panting, so confused what this man made you into.

He’d make fun of you if he knew.

You step out, sighing, drying up and then getting ready for the next day, planning your outfit, planning what to bring with you. This was an insanely serious case, one of the biggest, all over the television, and you had watched Satoru on them, he was fucking the best, not that you’d stroke his ego and tell him.

Your phone lights up when you’re settled down under the blankets, and you see his number and name pop up.

Professor Dickhead: Good night, Miss Brat.

How did something so simple make you nearly tear up again? You exhale, hand shaking as you swipe it up and open the messages. You nervously bite your lower lip, lips that ached for a goddamn kiss, one you had almost three months ago now. You couldn’t get the taste off your mind. You hate this.

You: Good Night… Satoru.

Not professor Dickhead, for some reason, it didn’t fit at the moment.

Well…

Satoru Gojo hearts the message you sent, and you hate the stupid smile on your face that it brings, the smile that lingers as you fall asleep, and you dream of him, anticipating the next day, such a huge day for you and your career, but also, spending time with him.

Fucking Professor Gojo.

Chapter 3

Ch 2 Ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/145101856#workskin

[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger Word Count: 3,100

“You want to WHAT?” You asked him, eyes wide, 

“Lower your voice! Someone next to you is gonna hear you yelling like that and call the bouncer.” He hissed. 

“Well I’m thinking that might be the right idea considering what the hell you just proposed to me.” you hissed back. 

“It’s not that crazy!” He insisted. “I step out of line, you blast me with radiant damage as hard as you can and if you don’t outright kill me, you’ll take the wind out of my sails plenty long enough to get far away from me.” 

You regarded him for a moment. “You JUST got through saying you had SIX mates. I know having two or three is rare, but you expect me to believe that you might have a SEVENTH mate and it might be me? We were vibing just now but I don’t know if we were vibing that hard.” 

“I also told you it's the same with each of my mates, something tells me I need to be somewhere, and by a crazy coincidence, we meet.” He adds. “I will know right away!” 

“Ugh!” You sighed, exasperated, resting your head in your hands. “You know 3 hours ago I walked into this club single, happy, looking to get drunk and have an easy fuck to forget a shitty day, and I’m walking out having saved a woman from a demon rapist, pissed off or turned on that demon rapist, and now I have a marriage proposal from the aether.”

“I can help with some of those issues, I think? You lost me there for a second I’m not going to lie to you.” 

You didn’t reply. 

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you. We had a great conversation over a strange and scary happenstance, and if you would rather go our separate ways as strangers having never learned the truth, then I respect that choice. Or the cheap fuck, if that option is still on the table.” 

You smacked him for the later remark. You sat, contemplative, and as if sensing you needed space, Jungkook excused himself for a cigarette, leaving you alone with your watered-down whiskey and your thoughts. 

I mean what are the chances right? He takes a little nibble, he spits it out, I take him back to mine, and we test out that vampiric stamina. It’s basically impossible that 1 person has 7 soul mates! You reasoned. On the other hand the one in a million, no billion, no TRILLION chances that you are this guy’s 7th sister wife what does that mean? Do I join his commune? They probably have a commune. Am I bonded to his other wives? Are they also vampires? I don’t think I have enough blood to go around. You rub your temples, frustration rising higher and higher in your body. I could also not choose. You reminded yourself. I could go home, forget this man, forget this night, and have everything go back to normal. 

Interrupting your thought process, David approached you. “You look mighty stressed.” 

“Yes!” You just about yelled at him. “Sorry, yes.” You said in a calmer tone. 

“Bar’s chill for the minute, what's up?”

You obviously couldn’t tell him the truth, but what if you were vague? Vague was okay. “I was confronted with a life-altering choice, and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, how do you usually make choices?” He asked, leaning back on the bar and crossing his arms. 

“I don’t. I find that fate has a way of making decisions for me.” 

“Well…” He shrugged, digging in his apron pocket. He slid forward a shiny, silver coin on the table. “You can have fate choose for you again.” 

You looked at him, then the coin. It’s my best bet. You thought to yourself, sliding the coin off the bar and into your hand, feeling the weight of it. May this lead me to the path of my destiny you willed into the coin before giving it a toss. 

The coin landed, and you understood what it was you had to do. 

~~~~

You met Jungkook on the street, just as he put a cigarette out on the cold pavement. 

“Hello,” he regarded you warmly. 

“I’ve decided.” You tell him. “Strings of fate and all that horse shite. I will blast the shit out of you if you take more than I tell you.” 

“You have my honor and my word.” He replied, punctuated with a dramatic bow. 

“Remember, blasting! And not the fun kind!” You warned him again, finger pointed sternly. 

“I would be disappointed in you if you gave me anything less.” 

“Anywhere really. I mean somewhere a little private. Like I said I just need a sip and I will know.” 

“Is my house okay? I mean you said you’d fuck me so I’d figure it was alright.” You asked, feeling shy suddenly. 

“Oh yeah, that’s fine!” Jungkook said. “I mean I was joking about the fuck thing I mean I just said it because you said it!”

You looked at him with a strange expression. 

“Not that I wouldn’t! You are extremely attractive! If you wanted to I would definitely be down don’t get me wrong I just-” He cut himself off. “I am making this so much worse for myself, aren’t I?”

“Very much so.” You said as you opened your umbrella and stepped out from under the awning. “Shut up and let’s go before I change my mind. The Uber will be here in a minute.” 

~~~~~

You lived in a one-bedroom place in a modest part of town, inside an apartment block that never seemed to be quiet, with the exception of this moment. Jungkook sat politely at your small kitchen table, you stood and leaned against a kitchen counter, the silence hanging between the two of you only interrupted by the sound of the rain hammering at the window, and the kettle steadily coming to a boil. You regarded him again for a moment, before turning to your cabinets and pulling out two mismatched mugs. 

“The tea will be done in a minute.” You said, ripping open the tea bags, setting one in each cup. A few more minutes of silence passed before Jungkook stood suddenly.

“I’ve never done this before,” He blurted. 

You take a moment to process what it is he could mean by that. He’s mated so he’s certainly not a virgin, seems to be over a hundred so it’s not his first time drinking blood you thought, before your mind wanders further. I did not just invite this man into my home to kill me. Tell me I did not invite this man into my home to murder me. God DAMN it, I fell for his stupid necklace and that incubus is probably waiting for his signal nearby.

“I suggest you explain yourself quickly and clearly, because it is sounding to me like what you’ve never done is have your ass blasted as hard as I am about to.” You said, turning around slowly, eyes locked on him. No funny business dude.

“I wasn’t completely truthful with you before. A lie by omission I guess which doesn’t trip up the necklace but I am going to stop rambling because you seem really justifiably mad.” He said putting his hands up. You took a step closer, energy beginning to crackle at your palms. 

“Every single time I met my mates, I was called to meet them by happenstance. That is true. But every single time they knew, or guessed we might be mates before I did. So I have never personally tested the whole “someone else’s blood or energy should be poison to me” theory.” 

“So you have no idea if this is even going to work!?” You yelled at him, palms crackling further. “So I’ve just invited you into my home so you can what, make a snack out of me?”  

“I know it works!” Jungkook countered, taking a step back as if almost cowering. 

“How?!” You demanded, lowering your magic a bit. You weren’t going to kill him, not yet anyway. 

“30 years ago!” Jungkook blurted nervously. “One of my hyungs, we got into a huge fight and he ran away for a few months. He subsists on energy, and when he tried to take from people that he wasn’t mated to, it poisoned him. Badley. He was starving and as close to death when we finally found him.” 

You look at his necklace and wait. No glow. So he was telling the truth. You lowered your guard completely. 

“Jesus Christ dude you can’t phrase it that way! I thought you were going to say “I’ve never done this before, never murdered!” and then jumped me with that incubus freak.” 

“No, you are right about that and I am really sorry.” He took a step back toward you, sitting back at the table. 

“If you know it works,” You began, pouring the now boiling water into each prepared mug. “You didn’t have to tell me you’d never tried it personally.” You said, placing each up on the table and joining him at the opposite seat. “It has no bearing on the outcome for you, so why did you feel the need to tell me?”

“Ah well,” he began, stirring a scoop of sugar into his tea idly. “I’m a stranger, asking you to make a big leap of faith that sure, benefits you, but also benefits me. I couldn’t sit right with knowing you didn’t have every piece of information I could offer you.”

“I… appreciate that.” You remarked, dumping 3 ice cubes into your tea. “I don’t like to wait for it to cool,” you admitted, somewhat sheepishly. 

“No, I don’t get the impression you do like to wait for much,” Jungkook replied, offering his cup to cheers with yours. You clink mugs and drink your tea in comfortable silence.  

~~~~~

“So how is this done usually?” You asked him, standing face to face in your combined living room and bedroom area. 

“Truthfully?” He asked you.

“Truthfully.” You confirmed. 

“My kind typically have been the stalk you, grab you and lure you into a dark alleyway and drain you of all your blood or charm you with magic and charisma and lure you to a place where we do the same thing, sort of people.” 

“I am confirming that that is not what we are trying to accomplish?” You half-jokingly asked. 

“That is not what we are trying to accomplish.” He confirmed. “I want you to be comfortable. However, wherever would be the most comfortable for you is where I want to do it.” 

“Um, okay.” You looked around. “I guess for me that would be my bed, that isn’t weird right?” 

“Not at all,” He confirmed, allowing you to lead the way. 

“But-” You stopped halfway before getting onto your bed. “It’s just my duvet is white, maybe I should put down a towel? In case things get messy.” 

He scoffed at that. “I am not such a pedestrian, I reckon I have been drinking blood since you were born.” 

“Are you sure about that?” You looked him up and down. Vampires didn’t age, sure, but surely he couldn’t be THAT much older than you, right? 

“If I get so much as a drop on your duvet, I will replace it with any duvet of your choice.” He said, placing his hand on his heart. 

“It doesn’t mean that much when you place your hand over an undead heart.” You said knocking his hand off his own chest. “But you’re not glowing, so I will take your word for it.” You said, sitting down. “Come, sit.” You invited him with a pat on the bed. He obliged. 

“Hey,” You began, after letting a few beats of silence pass. “Do you think we could just lay side by side for a few minutes?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He said, following your lead and sliding himself up the bed, laying comfortably on one side, you on the other. 

A long silence hung in the air. “I fuck strangers and this is somehow the most intimate I’ve been with one ever.” You remarked sarcastically. Jungkook chuckled lightly in response, 

“Me too.” 

More silence hung, heavy in the room. You laid back, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. He too laid, unmoving, this is all on your terms he was communicating. You shut your eyes. 

“What does it feel like?” You whisper. 

“The bite, or the connection?” 

“Both” 

“The bite hurts for a second, but it goes away pretty fast. Vampire venom has powerful numbing properties. Some people even feel peace or euphoria, it's supposed to keep you from running from us once we have you.” He paused before continuing. “The connection is, overwhelming, in a word. Everything in your body turns up to 11, you become very magically charged, emotionally charged, physically charged and, uh, sexually…” He cleared his throat. “Charged.” He finished. 

You sat in silence, digesting that information. You roll over on your side, facing him, he mirrors you. 

You spent a few more minutes, studying his face in earnest. At this proximity, there was a boyishness quality you didn’t notice from far away. It was cute, even, bunny-like, and as you stared at him, you searched your mind, your heart, your soul, desperately looking for recognition, the easy way out, one last chance to avoid the leap of faith. 

“What if I am mated to you?” You whisper

“We will figure it out.”

“How?”  

“Do you trust me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Before we begin, I told you before you might lose some of your sense once we begin. Where is a line too far? Where should I stop you? Where should I stop me?” 

“The troubled, sarcastic, sad part of me knows I can’t trust anyone.” You said, raising your hand to cup his cheek. “But something deep inside of me is telling me that you are truly good people. And for once, I am not going to push this one away.” You whispered, voice wavering. “Just, don’t hurt me, okay?”

He didn’t reply, but he held your gaze. 

“Jungkook?” You ask softly. 

“Hm?” 

“Would you kiss me please?” 

He then scooted closer to you and mirroring the motion you did before, he raised a hand, cupped your face gently, and placed a single, lingering kiss on your lips. He pulled away slightly, but a centimeter, I’m ready, but only when you are, he communicated to you. You closed the gap this time, I’m ready.

The kiss started off slow, chaste, even as two bodies, two energies tentatively explored the other in the more intimate environment. Jungkook was a good kisser, you decided, firm, but not too pushy. He allowed you to set the pace, the intensity, but what you gave he took readily. You parted your lips to him, and he took them greedily, using his free hand to hook around your back and drag you across the bed and completely flush with his body. You found your arm folded into his chest, the building intensity causing you to grip the fabric. You kissed greedily now, hungrily, like lovers long since reunited. It felt good, it felt right, you also decided. Kissing him was like the gentle respect and deep intimacy shared between two people who had loved each other for a long, long time. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt it, and you wanted more. 

Your arms were at a disadvantage, pinned against his muscular chest, but you used the position to pull yourself closer and closer still. You needed more of him. You wanted more of him. 

“Jungkook…” you whispered against his lips, a plea. 

“I know, God I want you too.” He whispered back his arm like an iron bar across your lower back holding you in place. “But we have to do this first, sex makes everything so messy and confusing.” He broke away from your lips, kissing up your jaw bone stopping at your ear. “I’m gonna do it now, okay?” He whispered. 

“Okay.” You confirmed. You found yourself then, in a swift move on your back with him straddled across your waist. From this angle, his baggy pants tented visibly over his crotch, the sight of which alone wound your core up so tight, you wondered if you’d cum immediately when he slips it in. He didn’t give you long to appreciate the view, as he leaned over you, face to face, and continued to kiss you. Your tongues didn’t battle but danced in harmony, and as you felt your hips rise to grind against the hardness so close to where you needed it, he broke away from your lips again, panting, he again peppered kisses up your jawline, but then down your neck this time gently sucking and licking on his way down, leaving you breathless. He settled on the spot but gave the skin special attention, the sensation of which had you sighing and running your fingers through his hair. 

When he was finally satisfied, he wasted no further time and sank his teeth in, the sensation of which made you yelp in pain. He didn’t lie about the pain. After a brief pause, you felt the sensation of him drinking you in. He swallowed once, came up for a breath, and in that moment, from head to toe, it was like you had both been struck by lightning. 

Overwhelming wasn’t the right word for it. Euphoric. Pure energy crackled and popped at your skin, literal sparks flying off at the points your skin connected. It was painful, you thought, but everything felt so amazing it faded into the background. Joy, pure joy radiated through your body. In fact, you can’t recall a time when you had ever felt this light-hearted and happy.

In the same moment, as euphoria washed over you, Jungkook’s demeanor changed and with a visceral, animalistic grunt, he dove back in sucking at your neck. The sensation was divine. 

“More, more” You found yourself begging again and again. He was like an immovable object in his current positioning, but you allowed yourself the luxury with your now-free hands to slip under his baggy shirt, relishing in the corded muscle of his back and biceps. 

The more he drank, the closer it seemed you got to the edge of something great. As something darker and harder to control overcame Jungkook, he didn’t notice when your enthusiastic pleas for more turned into incoherent babbling, and only when he had his fill, and the dark that consumed him receded, did he finally realize that you had fallen silent for quite some time. 

He pulled away from your neck and examined your body in horror. Limp, and unmistakably ashen. You looked like a corpse. 

“Y/N,” He said, panic in his voice, shaking your shoulder. “Y/N!” he said louder now, yelling and shaking you as violently as he dared. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

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

I told you guys one after the other! Like I said in the last post, I'm working on intertwined, that update might go up today or tomorrow, depending on what I'm feeling, I only promised this post! I also mentioned before that I will update the tags once I reveal which bts member is what/ what Y/N is but try to guess below! You might be right~

[thatsdemko]

welcome to the club - c.sainz

part 1: pining series

pining series masterlist

warnings: news article + plot is slow

a/n: WELCOME TO THE FIRST OFFICIAL PART! this part is a lil slow I apologize! It’s all about the introduction of the plot! I promise the next part(which is finished and being edited) has more to it!

—

the black and white paper scatters the grounds of the paddock that you walk through. the familiar 28 year old Spaniards face from the Silverstone win covers the paper, with the words you read this morning from the comfort of your living room.

single. he, who was with his lovely girlfriend of seven years, called it quits, as of nearly a month ago. it shocked you, when all of the 2022 season you watched her care and heal his wounds of the hatred and support him when nobody else would. you watched their love grow stronger, and somehow it snapped.

the lovely women who once stood beside you in the Ferrari garages were now filled with unfamiliar faces and the occasional family members from time to time. but this one came as a shock to you.

“good morning, cherie.” the familiar accent that you’ve come to love enters your ears, a smile forming your lips, you turn to see Charles and Pierre with bright smiles sporting their team wear.

“good morning, boys.” your eyes scan their table. the black and white paper is being held by their water bottles, and the plates in front of them hold nothing but crumbs of a possible sandwich. the one thing you grew to learn about Charles, was wherever he was, Pierre was close by. and today it was near all the scattered papers for their convenience.

“you see the news?” Pierre lifts the paper up off the table, that same winning smile enters your vision from this morning, except the picture is not colorized and there’s noticeable water marks on the edges.

“of course I did, it’ll be the talk of today.” you sigh, media duties won’t be pleasant, and you’re sure Carlos will be a grumbling angry mess to deal with. and as always, you’re assigned to him when he’s that way, nobody else can fathom to deal with an angry Carlos.

“do you think he’s seen it?”

“seen what?” the Spaniard approaches from behind you, he grabs the paper out of Pierre’s hand and begins to read while you all study his expressions. you’re waiting for an outburst or some sort of reaction that confirms, or denies, the drama, but you get nothing. instead, he just hands the paper back and leaves. which maybe gives you the answers you were all waiting for.

“he’s not happy.” Charles mumbles shaking his head. there was no way to avoid it, their private lives were, somehow all people cared about, and sometimes the words and curiosity is what kills the most.

“he won’t be all day.”

—

“you did it. media is over.” you toss him his phone, that had been lighting up in your hand all afternoon.

he catches the device and instantly regrets flipping it over to see the millions of notifications from not only family members, but friends. they all ask the same thing, “what do you mean you guys broke up?”

to Carlos, it was pretty evident the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, and to the public eye, it seemed they were just keep things private like they always did. but with after party events still being in the talks, Carlos’ appearance with another girl stirred a riot, and his publicist forced him to confirm his new status.

“do you want to talk about it?” you lean against the doorframe of his drivers room, watching those big brown eyes flicker up from his phone. the beautiful thick lashes glow in the screens brightness, “what’s to talk about? we broke up.”

“I meant more about the newspaper.” you say watching his lips form into an ‘o’, head sinking down into his hands for a moment, “I guess it wasn’t that obvious to everyone we were broken up.”

you snort a laugh, watching his head lift from his hands, body leaning against the white wall, “there’s not much to say, but it’s all true. I am single.”

you nod, pushing your body off of the doorframe, “welcome to the singles club, it sucks.” you’re unsure to laugh or sigh, but both come out of your lips, and he does the same, nose scrunching lines by his eyes crinkling.

“at least I’m not alone in this club.”

tags: @arian-directioner @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ak0ma @ruebennett89 @mochimommy2002 @flyingmushroomss @icarus-nex @solo-pitstop-vibes @xjval @chimchimjiminie16 @bookophiliac

want to be tagged for the next part? don’t be shy to let me know🥰