#except you know. he is definitely flirting

[ickypuppi3]

harringrove

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol�� Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

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@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[mutable-manifestation]

When the password doesn't work, first instinct is either "Babs/Tucker locked me out for enrichment reasons" or "must've changed it sometime in the past..63 hours. oops" and in either the case the follow-up instinct is "time to break into my own laptop again I guess."

They both don't notice the different layouts - Danny has to work on that paper, and he knows as soon as he's back at his dorm (let's say college au) he simply will not be able to stay awake any longer.

Tim has to draft a PowerPoint for a WE meeting scheduled not 5 hours after that, and figures if he bunkers down he can get in a quick nap in the board room before people actually start arriving.

So they both immediately open a document and get typing.

Tim does not notice until later that night, when Damian makes a passing comment about a "new space sticker" on his laptop and Tim - who has since had a full 3 hours of sleep - is suddenly hit by all of the (numerous) ways in which this is clearly Not His Laptop)

It is, instead of black, a very dark shade of purple. It has a Nasa sticker on the back with a nebula in place of the usual blues stars background. Opening it again, he realizes what he'd thought were spots swimming in his vision were actually very tiny dots of lights in random places on the keyboard.

Danny only realizes the next morning, and calls Tucker to remote-fry his info (he keeps backups for everything important, but he does not need some of those files getting out, given that his ghost catalogue includes him. It's very encrypted, but still).

Tim, for his part, has already had plenty of time to access, copy (just in case, and start reading said files (he had to figure out who owned the thing! ...And he was maybe feeling nosy. But look! Ghost stuff! Now he has to know more!). So he only slightly surprised when the laptop suddenly died.

Irrecoverably, he found after cracking it open.

Danny, of course, starts hacking all of the encrypted files on not his computer - gotta know who it belongs to! And all these layers of protection! It's good hacking practice! For fighting Technus! Totally just that and not nosiness, pssh whaaaattt.

Of course once they both start finding Bat & Ghost stuff... the Need To Know hits an all time high.

They both manage to find out each other's favorite times to be at that coffee shop (both are regulars - Danny knowing the details via celebrity news & Tim through hacking the cameras).

They both start going to the coffee shop at the others' usual times, with laptop (or backed up data) and questions along with them.

Their usual times are completely different & they keep missing each other.

They both know who each other are, of course, but Tim is trying to play the "totally normal civilian" angle on the chance this guy doesn't know enough to get through his encryptions (and given Danny learned everything from Tuck & never flaunts it's a reasonable assumption, even if his paranoia only allows it to be a hope) and Danny is trying to play the "unsuspicious college student" angle on the off chance the bats didn't take one look at the laptop & decide it wasn't invasion of privacy time (a slim hope, given that that's exactly what he did. But as the saying goes: deny, deny, deny).

Danny and Tim are both at:

- same coffee shop

- hospital levels of sleep deprivation

- a delusional lack of awareness

where they accidentally slide into the other persons booth and take the other persons laptop; fully not registering the extent of what they’re doing.

Big issues:

- Tim has Top Secret WE documents and batfiles on that computer

- Danny has a majority of his ghost catalog on that computer.

[pomefioredove]

overblots and rollo with a reader who flirts a lot unknowingly? like they see it as friendly teasing or just genuinely giving someone a compliment they don’t think of it as romantic. (their reaction to you accidentally flirting with them or. someone else and they start seething perhaps?!)

oh... I'm guilty of this (｡- .•)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ accidental flirting

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus, rollo ~☆ additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

it's not like Riddle's fellow students have never complimented him, but this is different. his academic achievement is not like... what had you said? the color of his eyes?

no one would be so bold as to compliment his physical features, let alone call them "beautiful" ... no one except for you, of course

you seemed rather confused when his whole face turned red. hopefully, you won't think about it too much...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

what was that? Leona looks nice when he dresses up? well, aren't you the flatterer? go on, then, say something else. he's listening!

Leona knows you didn't mean it that way, but that makes it even better. smug bastard. and it gives him the go ahead to flirt back, without you even realizing! if you weren't such a clueless little herbivore, he'd think you were trying to get something out of him... but you're you, so he knows you mean it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're so strange. you're definitely just mirroring Azul's body language and flattery, but you're being genuine, too... you're so socially awkward, it's making you a flirt. he's trying to butter you up for a deal, not a date!

...well... he was, anyway

now he's got to figure out how exactly to flirt back in a way that'll sound genuine coming from him...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

is it unconscious? are you teasing? or have you suddenly become a flirt overnight? Jamil is having a difficult time reading the room, which is unusual for him. the way you've been complimenting him, batting those pretty eyelashes of yours, is... distracting, to say the least

...he could also be reading too much into this. maybe he just needs a nap

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil simply can't pass up the opportunity. can you blame him? there you are, looking adorable as per usual, telling him all this nonsense about how lucky his future partner will be, blah, blah...

and you're clueless. it's endearing, really. he'll call you sweet and leave you with a kiss on the cheek

something to think about for later ;3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

are you trying to send Idia to an early grave??? of course, the one time he lets Ortho drag him outside, there you are, as cutesy and... sunshine-y as ever, telling him you like his hair with a smile. and what does he say?

"uh- um- uh-"

great work, everyone. he'll work on that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

fae courting is... strange. you know this. you don't know all of it, though. so when you tell Malleus you've planted some Briar Valley flora around Ramshackle for him... he sort of takes it as a vow. it's basically like a promise ring to him

he's all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week, much to everyone else's confusion

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rollo will hit you with the most unamused look you've gotten in your entire life, politely tell you to be decent, thank you, and then leave to lie in bed and think about your future wedding for the rest of the day. that's just the kinda guy he is

[thinkinonsense]

WICKED

old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark

authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333

he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.

logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.

"lovely seeing you here again, logan."

he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.

"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"

"home." he states, gruffly.

"that's boring. why were you at home?"

"wedding anniversary."

the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.

“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”

“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.

“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”

“doubtful.”

“and why’s that?” you fake pout.

logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”

“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”

the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.

after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.

“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.

logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.

“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.

“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.

logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”

it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.

"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.

the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.

"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.

"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.

"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."

that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.

"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.

logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.

"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."

a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.

an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.

"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."

"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.

"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.

he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.

"what are you—"

"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."

logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.

"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.

"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"

"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."

within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.

"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.

you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.

roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.

desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.

carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.

"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.

logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.

"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."

"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.

"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.

for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.

"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.

"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."

logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[callsigns-haze]

Family Business

Summary: Hangman finally goes back to top gun and the daggers....well they want the tea

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of labour, postpartum.

Word count: 2636 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part three of Little Life and Silly little life

Three weeks had passed since Jake had set foot on the Top Gun base, and as he walked into the hangar, he could feel all eyes on him. The usual hum of the hangar, the sounds of jets being prepped, filled the air, but this time it felt like he was walking into an ambush. He had been out of the game long enough for them to notice—and that meant one thing: relentless teasing.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Phoenix spotted him and was on him like a hawk. “Well, look who finally decided to show his face,” she said with a grin, crossing her arms. “I was beginning to think you forgot how to fly, Hangman.”

Jake smirked, unbothered as he swaggered toward them. “I don’t forget anything, Trace.”

“Yeah, except how to show up,” Rooster chimed in, leaning against one of the jets. His aviators glinted in the sunlight as he shot Jake a smirk. “Where’ve you been, man? Can’t imagine someone like you being tied up with ‘family business.’ Sounds like an excuse to me.”

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning against a nearby crate. “Family business, Bradshaw. Not an excuse. It’s called responsibility, but I wouldn’t expect you to know much about that.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Responsibility? You? What, did you have to help your mom put up Christmas lights or something?”

Phoenix snorted, nudging Bob in the ribs. “Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, family man. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

Payback and Fanboy joined in, shaking their heads as they exchanged looks. “Hangman with family business? Did the world end while you were gone?” Payback teased. “Or is this some weird alternate universe we’re living in?”

Fanboy laughed, throwing up his hands. “Seriously, what kind of family business does someone like Hangman even have? I thought your whole life was flying and flirting.”

Jake shrugged, keeping his expression neutral despite the barrage of questions. “Family business is just that—family business. Nothing for you all to worry about.”

“Come on, man,” Bob finally spoke up, his quiet curiosity breaking through. “You’ve been gone for weeks. That’s not like you. We’re just trying to figure out what’s up.”

Jake could feel their eyes all on him, waiting for some sort of juicy explanation, but he wasn’t about to give them anything. Not yet. Not about Y/N, and definitely not about their daughter Ellie-Mae. The last thing he needed was the whole squad knowing about the tiny bundle of joy waiting for him back in Texas.

“I told you,” Jake said smoothly, his hands in his pockets as he kept his tone casual. “Just family stuff. Nothing to lose sleep over.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, her arms still crossed as she studied him. “You sure you didn’t get married while you were gone? Or maybe you’re secretly a CIA agent and just can’t tell us.”

Rooster laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, if Hangman was in the CIA, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d be bragging about it every chance he got.”

Jake shot Rooster a look, but before he could respond, Phoenix waved a hand. “Whatever. It’s not like you’re gonna tell us anything, so I’m not wasting any more of my time.”

The others murmured in agreement, their curiosity still piqued but knowing better than to press Jake any further. The teasing eased up, and they turned back to their tasks, still throwing the occasional glance his way. But Coyote—standing back, watching with his arms crossed—had remained quiet the entire time, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He was the only one who knew the truth, after all. Coyote had been there from the beginning, the one person Jake trusted with everything. He knew about Y/N, about the love that had blindsided Jake and changed his life in ways he never expected. And now, he knew about Ellie-Mae—their beautiful little girl with Jake’s eyes and Y/N’s fierce spirit. Coyote had kept Jake’s secret this whole time, and the amusement on his face showed just how much he was enjoying watching Jake dodge all the questions.

Once the teasing finally died down, Jake excused himself from the group, heading toward the locker room to grab his gear. He could still feel the weight of their eyes on his back, but it didn’t bother him. He was used to the squad’s prying, but he wasn’t ready to let them in on his new life just yet.

As he rounded the corner, making sure he was out of earshot, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, Coyote’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he started shaking him playfully.

“Hangman,” Coyote laughed, gripping Jake’s shoulders as he gave him a few good shakes. “You lucky son of a bitch! Walking around here like nothing happened, when you’ve got a damn baby at home!”

Jake chuckled, turning around to face him, though he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others weren’t following. “Keep your voice down, Javy. You trying to let the whole base know?”

Coyote let out another laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I still can’t believe it. Ellie-Mae, huh? I knew you were going soft when you started talking about Y/N, but a baby? That’s next-level.”

Jake grinned, unable to help himself as the thought of Ellie-Mae filled his mind. “Yeah, well, didn’t exactly plan on it, but… here we are.”

Coyote clapped him on the back, his eyes shining with genuine excitement. “You’re a dad now, bro. That’s wild. How’s it feel?”

Jake paused for a moment, letting the question sink in. He thought about Y/N, the late nights with Ellie in his arms, and the way his heart practically burst every time he looked at her. “It’s… crazy,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Hard to believe I could love someone that much. It’s terrifying, but in the best way.”

Coyote chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet. You better start getting used to diapers and spit-up, man. You’re in for a wild ride.”

Jake rolled his eyes, though the grin never left his face. “Yeah, well, it’s worth it. Y/N and Ellie—they’re everything.”

Coyote’s expression softened as he gave Jake another firm clap on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, Hangman. You know that, right?”

Jake nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Javy. I know.”

With that, they stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Coyote was right—Jake was lucky. Luckier than he ever thought possible. And as much as he loved flying, he knew that his real world was waiting for him back home.

That evening, the Dagger squad made it their mission to squeeze answers out of Jake—answers they knew he wasn’t going to give up willingly. But their tactics had shifted from teasing to something more strategic: drinks. They’d dragged him to the bar near the base, determined to make him pay for disappearing for three weeks without so much as a solid explanation.

Phoenix nudged him as they settled around a table. “Alright, Hangman, since you won’t tell us where you’ve been, the least you can do is buy the first round.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but his grin never faltered. “Oh, I see how it is. You think a few drinks are gonna loosen my tongue?”

Rooster smirked from across the table. “You never know. Maybe after a couple of shots, you’ll be singing like a bird.”

The whole squad chuckled at that, and even Jake had to laugh, though he wasn’t planning on revealing anything. “Fine, fine,” he said, standing up. “But don’t expect any stories. This is just because I’m a generous guy.”

Payback clapped him on the back as he headed toward the bar. “We’ll take what we can get, man. You owe us.”

Jake made his way through the crowd, ordered the drinks, and carried the tray back to the table where the squad was already lining up a game of pool. The atmosphere was lively, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. He handed out the drinks, then leaned against the pool table, chalking up a cue as Rooster took the first shot.

But just as Jake was about to join in, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen, and his heart did a little flip when he saw Y/N’s name pop up, along with the FaceTime icon.

“Of course,” Phoenix muttered when she saw him glance at his phone. “Let me guess—more ‘family business’?”

Jake smirked, putting the cue down. “Yeah, something like that. I gotta take this.”

A collective groan rose from the squad. “Come on, man!” Rooster protested, lining up his next shot. “Can’t it wait?”

Jake shook his head. “Not this time, Bradshaw. You guys keep playing. I’ll be back.”

He slipped outside the bar, leaving the noise behind as he stepped into the cool evening air. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk, and he found a quiet spot away from the crowds before answering the call. As the screen connected, the familiar sight of Y/N’s desk came into view. She was sitting there, her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing one of Jake’s old t-shirts. But what really caught his attention was the tiny bundle wrapped against her chest—Ellie, snug in her baby wrap, sound asleep.

Jake’s heart swelled at the sight of them, and his usual cocky grin softened into something more genuine. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low. “How’re my girls doing?”

Y/N smiled, her eyes tired but full of love. “We’re good. She just went down after her evening fuss. Thought I’d call you before it gets too late.”

Jake leaned against the wall, his smile widening as he watched Ellie’s little chest rise and fall with each soft breath. “She’s getting bigger every day,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I swear she looks different already.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “That’s because she is. You’re missing out on all her growth spurts while you’re out there playing pool and buying your squad drinks.”

Jake winced playfully. “Busted. Yeah, they dragged me out tonight, trying to get me to spill where I’ve been. They don’t know about you or Ellie yet.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Still keeping us a secret, huh?”

“For now,” Jake said, his tone softer. “I just want to keep this between us a little longer, you know?”

She nodded, her hand gently resting on Ellie’s back. “I get it. We’re your secret weapon.”

Jake’s smile softened even more, his heart swelling with how perfect this moment felt. “Exactly. How’s Ellie been today? No more colic?”

“She’s been a little angel today,” Y/N said, glancing down at the sleeping baby. “I think the baby wrap helps. She loves being close like this.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on them, a quiet longing in his eyes. “I miss you both so much,” he murmured. “Wish I could be there.”

“We miss you too,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “But we’ll be here when you get back. And maybe next time, you can tell the squad the real reason why you’ve been missing.”

Jake chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, maybe. One day. But not yet. For now, I’m keeping you two all to myself.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes soft as they locked onto his through the screen. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just watching each other through the screen, neither wanting to hang up. Finally, Jake sighed. “Alright, darlin’. I should let you get some rest. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ll be waiting. Love you, Jake.”

“Love you too,” he said, his voice warm as he ended the call. He lingered for a moment, staring at the blank screen, already missing them more than he thought possible.

With a deep breath, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed back inside, ready to face the squad again, but this time with a little more peace in his heart.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Rooster spotted him, leaning on his pool cue with a cocky grin. “Oh great, he’s back. And look at him—moping around like a lovesick puppy.”

Phoenix, already lining up her next shot, glanced up and smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be Hangman, not Hang-up-the-phone-and-sulk man.”

The rest of the squad laughed, and even Bob, always the quiet one, chuckled under his breath. “What was that, your mom calling to check up on you?”

Jake rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite muster his usual bravado. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Baby on board.”

Payback, who had been eyeing him from the bar, raised his glass in Jake’s direction. “No, seriously, man. Who’s got you all down and out? You were fine before you left to take that call, now you look like someone kicked your dog.”

Fanboy leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “I’ll bet it’s a girl. That’s the only thing that ever makes a guy like Jake Seresin go all soft.”

Jake shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. “You all have way too much time on your hands, you know that?”

“Come on, Hangman, spill it,” Rooster pressed, the competitive glint in his eyes still there even after the teasing. “You’re not this distracted unless it’s something big. Or someone.”

Jake shook his head, not ready to let them in on the truth. He leaned on the pool table, picking up a cue as if nothing had changed. “It’s just family stuff, like I said. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Yeah, we’ll believe that when you stop looking like you’re about to write a country song,” Phoenix said, taking her shot and sinking a ball into the corner pocket.

The whole squad chuckled, and Jake couldn’t help but smirk at that one. “Real original, Trace.”

But despite the banter, it was clear that Jake’s head wasn’t entirely in the game. He took a lazy shot, missing a pocket he would normally nail without even thinking. Rooster raised an eyebrow at the miss, exchanging a look with Phoenix.

“Wow, you really are off your game tonight,” Rooster teased. “First you disappear for three weeks, now you can’t even make a simple shot? Whoever’s on the other end of that phone call must be something special.”

Jake leaned on the table, sighing a little as he looked at the group. “Maybe I’m just tired of carrying you guys all the time.”

“Oh, so now we’re back to old Hangman,” Payback said with a grin. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

But even as Jake tried to join back in the banter, his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N and Ellie, to the soft rise and fall of Ellie’s chest, the way Y/N had smiled at him through the screen. It was a different kind of responsibility weighing on him now, one that made everything else seem a little less important.

Phoenix narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not buying the act. “You’re seriously going to keep us in the dark, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, still playing it off. “Family business, Trace. That’s all it is.”

The squad groaned in unison, but the teasing softened, and the game went on. Yet as the night wore on, Jake couldn’t quite shake that faraway look in his eyes, no matter how many jokes the others threw his way. And though they kept up the ribbing, no one pressed him for more, leaving the mystery of his absence hanging in the air, unanswered.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged

[star-sim]

"is your girlfriend single?" ☆ enha maknaes

☆ youtuber! non-idol! bf! enhypen maknae line x fem! reader ☆ summary: when your youtuber boyfriend finally shows you for the first time to his audience. ☆ genre: fluff, very dumb, jelly boys ☆ warning(s)? no! ☆ ygs seemed to like the hyung version so here's the maknae version!! reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hyung ver.

sunoo ☆

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

this one is gonna be a lil different

paranormal investigator sunoo

he's like buzzfeed unsolved

and for one of his seasons, he goes and investigates haunted places and reviews their histories yk?

for the season finale

sunoo visits the bellaire house, which is notorious for being super haunted and ghost-infested

i like to think that sunoo is honestly skeptical abt ghosts

like he definitely has tried to talk to them, but hasn't discovered anything conclusive to definitively prove the existence of ghosts

anyways because it's the season finale

sunoo has a special guest...

you! his gf!

i think he'd be low key about your relationship, but his viewers know who you are

the video starts off normal

sunoo gives a rundown of the history of the bellaire house, like when it was built, the people that lived in it, the strange occurences in there, etc

the bickering between you and sunoo as you go over the bellaire house is very cute and sweet

it definitely makes it into those "sunoo and [name] being a comedic duo" compilations aw

anyways now its time to investigate the bellaire house head on 😈

sunoo pulls out all his cool ghost-catching gadgets

he tries everything

like the thermal camera, EMF meter, even the goddamn magnetic field detector

sunoos getting annoyed bc why are none of the ghosts talking to him :(

on the other hand

you're clinging onto him, hiding behind ur bf scared shitless

i mean like.... why would you not the bellaire house is known for having DEMONS 😭😭

sunoo huffs and turns to the camera, "welp it looks like there's no ghosts here"

one of the people in his camera crew suggest having you ask instead of him

even though youre scared you do it for ur bf

you're like "hi ghosts..... if you're here with us... please flicker the lights"

.

.

.

THE LIGHTS BEGIN TO FLICKER AAAAAAAA

AND SUNOOS HYPED OUT OF HIS MIND

"BABE BABE BABE ASK THEM THEIR NAME"

so youre like "ghosts... whats your name"

and NO JOKE

A WIND BLOWS PAST THE ROOM

AND EVERYONE IN THE ROOM SWEARS THEY HEAR SOMEONE WHISPER FAINTLY

"robert"

so that's how you and sunoo meet robert the ghost

BUT THAT'S NOT THE END

BECAUSE SUNOO HAS THE BRILLIANT IDEA OF PULLING OUT HIS OUIJA BOARD

tbh you both look dumb as hell

sitting on the crusty bellaire house floor

hunched over a ouija board

sunoo is now asking questions

but the ouija board doesn't even move

but when you ask

"robert, how are you today? yes for good, and no for bad"

THE GODDAMN PLANCHETTE MOVES TO YES AKA GOOD 😭

you and sunoo then introduce yourselves

again, when sunoo introduces himself nothing happens

but when you introduce yourself

the candle that's lit beside you goes out

someone in sunoo's camera crew jokes that they think that robert the ghost likes you

so sunoo jokingly asks "robert are you flirting with my girlfriend?"

AND THE OUIJA BOARD SAYS YES 😭😭😭

and when you kiss sunoo the doors in the house start slamming and shit like SOMEONES MAD

sunoo is lowk offended

and then he starts to beef with robert the ghost

except robert the ghost never respond to anything that sunoo says

bro leaves sunoo on heard

sunoos like "HEY ROBERT I DON'T CARE IF YOURE A DEMON YOU BETTER BACK THE FUCK UP!!"

later when ygs review the emf recorder it picks up robert the ghost whispering "i don't care 🙄"

sassy ass ghost

on the other hand

robert responds to EVERYTHING you say

atp you're not scared anymore

"hai robert i'm [name], knock over that doll over there if you want to be my friend"

and the doll knocks over 😭

"robert knock on the window if you think i'm cute :3"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

the camera crew is just laughing their asses off

at some point

the ouija board starts moving on its own

everyones like WOAHHH IT'S ACTUALLY MOVING!!! QUICK GET A PIECE OF PAPER SO WE CAN RECORD WHAT ITS SAYING!!!

sunoo is taking such dilligent notes

it starts with i, then s, then it spells out your name, and then s, i, n, g, l, e

" ' IS [NAME] SINGLE' ???"

is what the ouija board says

yes a goddamn ghost just asked that

SUNOO IS NOT HAVING IT

while you and the camera crew are cracking up

sunoo starts telling off robert

"listen bro just because you died in the bellaire house doesn't mean that you can try to take my gf 😐"

robert the ghost is being sassy too

so sunoo literally just snaps the ouija board in half

"haha you can't talk anymore robert .😐."

yk how in buzzfeed unsolved they take turns staying in the haunted place alone with all the lights off

sunoo kicks everyone out so that he can have a "man to man" talk with robert

robert isn't a physical person but everyone swears they hear crying

.... and it sure isn't coming from sunoo 😇

i think this would go really viral

"[name] is so beautiful that even dead people want her"

"robert the ghost is so me"

"even ghosts aren't immune to beautiful women"

"robert saw a hot woman and took his chance"

this would become an inside joke within sunoo's fandom fs

sunoo isn't having it though

he definitely still tweets about it

"i remember when some loser ghost tried to take my girlfriend"

"robert fuck you i'm glad you died"

"see you hell robert"

i def think robert is scared of sunoo now

LMAO

jungwon ☆

jungwon is documentary youtuber

he likes to make short documentaries about topics that he likes

kinda like wendigoon or fern or real horror

i feel like he'd have a super high quality mic that's super crisp

i think he'd like to make iceberg videos, or videos about obscure missing people stories

anyways

jungwon has a whiteboard that he uses to explain things

esp like timelines

but in one of his videos he doesn't use the whiteboard so it's in the background

so you write a little message on it

its just a very simple

"[name] was here :3 !!"

i feel like only a few people notice it

but as more and more videos pass

and jungwon doesn't use the whiteboard

your little messages get bigger and bigger

until one day the entire board is filled up with just "[NAME] WAS HERE!!!"

sorry i think a lot of jungwon's viewerbase would be redditors, just given what his content is like

r/jungwon LMAAOAOAO

on there someone brings it up

theyre like "who is [name]"

some ppl suggest that it's probably a friend or his gf

it's pretty chill tbh, his viewerbase isn't really too concerned

until one day

jungwon does one of those investigating 411 missing persons cases

except ygs live near one of the places where someone went missing

so he's physically walking along the path where someone went missing as he tells the story

poor baby is lowk kinda scared tho so he takes you along with him

youre mostly behind the camera but you do talk

at the beginning of the video he's like

"hi guys i'm joined by my girlfriend today"

you pop into frame to say hi

anyways like i said you do talk during this video

like as jungwon tells the story you're reacting behind the camera

"it's crazy that a 4 year old traversed 30 miles up a mountain in a matter of 30 hours..."

and behind the camera you're like "omg no way that's wild 😱😱😱"

youre like genuinely invested

you're also cracking a lot of jokes w him too

its really sweet bc most of his videos jungwon is alone, but since youre in this w him, he's smiling so much ;(

and like everytime he makes a joke you can see him looking off-camera to look at your reaction

and when you laugh everyone can literally see how proud he is

this video so SUPER well received

his comment section is so sweet

"i've never seen jungwon smile so much, he's so in love with [name] :("

"the way you can tell jungwon is proud when [name] laughs at his jokes"

but i think the most common type of comment are those type stamp ones

"at 1:23 [name]'s laugh is so cute!"

"0:58 when the camera panned over to [name] my jaw dropped... she's gorgeous!"

"5:29 [NAME] IS SO FUNNY I LOVE HER"

"at 4:40 i love the way [name] completes jungwon's sentence, i've never seen two people that are just so perfect for each other"

yk how on youtube there's that feature where you can see the most replayed part?

when you pop into frame that's the most replayed part of his video 😭

his viewerbase on reddit probably posts you

like its a screenshot from the video and theyre like "it's [name]! the one on the whiteboard!"

i think his fanbase would be really nice on reddit too :(

"she's so pretty!"

"jungwon has immaculate taste"

indeed he does <3

he's so proud of you, like i think he definitely looks at the comments and screenshots them to keep reading them

like YES THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND

HOWEVER

jungwon makes those "going through my subreddit" videos

and he comes across a post hyping you up

at first hes liek "YES YES YES MY GF IS SO BEAUTIFUL"

but then the comments on the post are like

"she's so beautiful, do ygs think she's single?"

"hi [name] 😏 (i am the ceo of amazon and read feminist literature books btw)"

obv all jokes

and jungwon's face visibly drops

he gives the camera a MAD side eye

a STINK EYE

jungwons like "all right, who said that 🤨"

AND THEN HE REPORTS AND BANS THEM 😭

he makes posts on his subreddit like "all of u are going missing next time i see shit like this"

HELP

riki ☆

sorry he's a shitposter

i think riki posts those genshin impact and fortnite playthroughs

but he also posts other gamer things

but he actually has a good fanbase

he's at like 900k subscribers even though he doesn't have a fixed upload schedule or specific genre of post

he's never showed his face like ever on his channel, but he definitely shows his personality through editing, video descriptions, and community posts

one day though

riki randomly posts a video titled "me and my girlfriend at the arcade"

and its a video of you and him on an arcade date :(

the majority of it is him behind the camera recording you as you play games

the way you can hear him chuckling behind the camera as you have cute reactions :((((

but there's also times where he's on camera

like when he's playing with the claw machine

and bc riki is a pro

he wins a you giant teddy bear!!

your cute lil cheers when he wins are like the most replayed part of the video

he takes such cute pictures of you hugging the bear aw

honestly his viewers are surprised when he posts the video

bc he used to be posting genshin impact videos why is there a vlog

but theyre not complaining

this video becomes one of his most viewed

since youre most of the video there's a lot of comments abt you

and i think his audience is close enough with riki to shit on him LMAAOAO

"[name] is so sweet i wanna hug her"

"i wish i was a teddy bear..."

"SHE'S SO CUTE"

"move aside riki"

"is [name] single by any chance"

"omg who is that weird random guy (riki) that keeps coming near you [name] is he bothering you queen"

"[name] who is this random guy are you cheating on me"

riki responds to these comments too

"you can't have her" "too bad she's lying in my arms right now" "she just kissed me" "do want want my girlfriend or a black eye"

he definitely starts fights

i think his video is so viral that he gets ppl outside his audience

and some ppl get mad when riki fights back 😭😭😭

“why is he fighting people they’re clearing joking” and riki responds like “yeah why is he fighting 🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡”

and then riki gets petty

and makes a video called

"addressing everything."

its like a logan paul apology video

it's also like 30 seconds 😭

"hi all... i just wanted to come here and apologize... for having a HOT GIRLFRIEND" and then he flips off the camera and it cuts off with you saying "babe?--"

lowk goes viral for it LMAO

behold the keyboard warrior trilogy- heehoonki ☠️

in the future riki does post more of your cute vlogs

and in the descriptions he's just ranting abt how much he loves you

lowk all the vlogs are basically just him admiring you

cuties

[mrsfancyferrari]

Good Luck Kiss

Summary: Lando is a fully independent guy until you are around.

Song: Under The Influence by Chris Brown

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the bustling world of Formula 1, there lived a young and aspiring driver named Lando Norris. Lando was known for his quick reflexes, fearless racing style, and unwavering determination.

However, there was one aspect about Lando that many people didn't know - he was a fully independent guy, except for when he was around a certain someone.

It all started when Lando Norris attended the annual Formula 1 convention.

Amidst the glitz and glamour of the event, he stumbled upon a mysterious stranger. The woman's name was Y/N, and you were equally passionate about motorsports.

The two instantly connected over your shared love for speed and adrenaline.

As they chatted, Lando couldn't help but be drawn to your infectious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. They spent the entire evening together, discussing their favorite races, memorable moments, and even daring each other to try out some racing simulators.

It was a night that neither of them would ever forget, as they had found in each other a kindred spirit and a racing partner like no other.

"Wow! You're good," Lando said, flirting/teasing. "You should come over to the McLaren paddock to check it out," he added with a mischievous grin, knowing that you couldn't resist the chance to get a behind-the-scenes look at the heart of Formula 1.

"You're inviting me to the McLaren paddock? Are you serious?" you asked, a mix of excitement and disbelief evident in your voice.

"I would absolutely love to! That's like a dream come true for any Formula 1 fan," you replied, unable to contain your excitement.

Lando smirked, already getting used to your smile. "Well, get ready for the ride of your life," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Because once you step into the McLaren paddock, you'll never want to leave."

Fast forward to the present, you had become Lando's best friend and constant companion both on and off the racetrack. You were there to support him through every victory and to lift him up during the challenging moments.

Together, you formed an unbreakable bond, a dynamic duo that pushed each other to new heights. Whether it was strategizing race tactics, cheering from the pit lane, or simply sharing a laugh after a long day, you were inseparable.

The McLaren paddock had become a second home for you, a place where memories were made, dreams were pursued, and the thrill of Formula 1 was lived to the fullest.

In addition to your close friendship with Lando, you also formed strong connections with the other drivers and their partners. The paddock became a tight-knit community where you shared laughs, stories, and even the occasional friendly competition.

It was a unique bond that extended beyond the racetrack, creating lifelong friendships that would continue to flourish even after the checkered flag fell.

As time went on, Lando found himself spending more and more time with you when they weren't in the paddock, and the press kept catching them together. Speculations about a romantic relationship between the two of you started circulating, fueling rumors and adding an extra layer of excitement to your already thrilling lives.

However, both of you remained tight-lipped about the nature of your relationship, preferring to keep it private and let the speculation run its course.

"Have you heard the latest rumors about Y/N and Lando? They're definitely more than just friends, I can feel it!" one fan excitedly whispered to another in the paddock.

"I don't know, they've always been so secretive about their relationship. But I wouldn't be surprised if they're actually together," replied another, their eyes fixated on you and Lando as you laughed together nearby.

"I heard they're the perfect match, both on and off the track. They bring out the best in each other," chimed in a journalist, discreetly taking notes.

"Well, whatever their relationship status is, they make a formidable team. I've never seen Lando so focused and driven before," commented a fellow driver, watching Lando's improved performance.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see if they ever confirm it. But until then, I'm rooting for them," concluded a teammate, smiling in support. . . .

"Where's Y/N?" Lando complained, sulking after not seeing his best friend for three hours.

This morning, he was required to film a go kart video for Quadrant for their marketing campaign and it was suggested that you be a part of it, which he had no problem with at all, he wanted you to be there regardless.

"Don't worry mate, I'm sure your girlfriend will be here soon," Max teased, nudging his shoulder against Lando's.

Lando gently shoved him back for his comment, a playful smile on his face. "She's not my girlfriend, Max. Y/N and I are just really close friends," he clarified, emphasizing the word 'friend' to make his point.

Deep down, though, Lando couldn't help but wonder if there could ever be something more between them.

"Yeah, yeah," Max replied, not believing him one bit. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's definitely something more going on there, mate."

Before Lando could talk back, footsteps were heard, and you emerged from the crowd of staff.

You emerged from the crowd of staff, donning a sleek black leather jacket that hugged your figure perfectly. Underneath, you wore a vibrant orange crop top that accentuated your curves and matched the colour of the McLaren, paired with high-waisted jeans that showcased your long legs.

Completing the ensemble were a pair of white sneakers that added a touch of casual coolness to your overall look.

As you approached Lando and Max, the mischievous smile on your lips hinted at the adventures that awaited the three of you, fueling Lando's curiosity even further about the potential for something more than just friendship between you.

"Sorry I'm late, boys. Traffic was a nightmare," you said, smiling at Lando, who couldn't help but blush at the sight of you.

"It's okay, we can start now," Lando assured, avoiding your eyes to calm down a bit.

"But when I'm 5 minutes late, I get yelled at," Max muttered beside him and received another shove from Lando.

Lando took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts as he prepared to introduce the go-karting video.

With you and Max standing beside him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous excitement. "Alright, everyone, welcome to Quadrant's go-karting extravaganza!" Lando exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Today, we have two special guests joining us for some adrenaline-pumping action. Please give a warm welcome to the one and only Y/N and the ever-competitive Max!"

The crowd cheered, and Lando glanced at you. A mixture of anticipation and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on coursing through him.

Max playfully nudged Lando's shoulder, adding, "And let me tell you, folks, the competition between Lando and Y/N is about to get intense. I can't wait to see who comes out on top!"

After explaining the rules, the three of them started to change into their racing suits. Max slipped into his familiar Red Bull suit, while you and Lando excitedly put on the McLaren suits.

As Lando muttered, "Let me help you with that," he reached for your helmet, his fingers grazing your cheek as he brushed your hair away.

The intensity in his eyes remained unbroken as he carefully positioned the helmet on your head, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Oh my god! You two better get a room," Max said beside you two, looking more frustrated than the two of you felt about your feelings for each other.

Lando quickly let go of you, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks, and you said a quick thank you before rushing over to where Max was since it was you vs Max first.

The anticipation and excitement in the air was palpable as you both prepared to show off your go-karting skills.

You both got into your go-karts with the determination to start the video with a great race to capture the viewer's attention.

You gripped the wheel of your go-kart tightly, your heart pounding with anticipation. Lando raised the starter pistol, his eyes focused on the track ahead. "On your marks... get set..." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Go!"

The sound of the pistol echoed through the air, and you and Max shot off like lightning. The thrill of the race fueled your determination to come out on top.

The wind whipped through your hair as you maneuvered your kart around the bends. The thrill of the race pushing you to your limits. As the laps flew by, the competition between you and Max intensified, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pressed down on the accelerator and zoomed ahead, determined to showcase your go-karting skills. Max, however, was not far behind, and the friendly competition between the two of you intensified as you maneuvered through the twists and turns of the track.

Max was hot on your tail, his competitive nature driving him to catch up and surpass you. The cheers from the crowd faded into the background as you focused on the twists and turns of the track, determined to give it your all.

The wind whipped against your face, causing your cheeks to flush with exhilaration. Every twist and turn of the track sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses and sharpening your focus. The vibrations from the go-kart's engine reverberated through your body, adding to the excitement of the race.

As the race continued, you and Max pushed each other to the limits, maneuvering through the twists and turns with precision and skill. The crowd cheered as you both showcased your go-karting prowess, but Max's determination proved to be unmatched.

In the final lap, he made a daring move, overtaking you with a burst of speed that left you in awe. With a triumphant smile, Max crossed the finish line, claiming victory in the race.

Despite the disappointment of not winning, you couldn't help but admire Max's talent and sportsmanship, knowing that you had given it your all in a thrilling and unforgettable race.

Lando quickly ran over to you as you got out of the go-kart to check for any injuries while you assured him that you were fine.

Despite the loss, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the exhilarating race you had just experienced.

"What about me? I think my legs hurt," Max muttered, acting like he broke his leg.

"That's karma for you," Lando replied, "You should have let Y/N win,"

"Never," Max said with a smirk, "I'm not one to let someone win just out of pity." Lando chuckled and patted Max on the back, "Well, Y/N certainly gave you a run for your money. It was an incredible race to watch."

Max's competitive spirit still brimming, he replied, "Yeah, they did. I'll give them that. But next time, I won't be so merciful."

You chuckle and playfully retort, "Oh, so you're admitting that you were being merciful this time?"

Max rolls his eyes and smirks, "Just you wait, next time I won't hold back and you won't stand a chance."

You and Lando got into your go-karts, the engines roaring to life as you prepared for the race. The smell of burning rubber filled the air, adding to the anticipation of the competition.

"Am I going to get my good luck kiss?" Lando teased beside you, causing a playful smile to spread across your face.

You playfully roll your eyes at Lando's comment and give him a playful shove. "You wish," you respond with a smirk.

Lando pleads, "Come on, just one good luck kiss! It worked last time!"

You laugh and shake your head, "Sorry, Lando, but I don't think a kiss will give you an advantage this time. You'll have to rely on your own skills."

Lando pouted, feeling disappointed that things didn't go his way. Max, who had been growing increasingly disgusted by the playful "flirting" between you and Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands.

Without warning, he fired the starting pistol, catching both you and Lando off guard and initiating the race with a bang. The sudden sound echoed through the air, signaling the beginning of another intense competition.

The race started off with a flurry of speed and adrenaline as you and Lando maneuvered your go-karts through the twists and turns of the track. Both of you showcased impressive skills, overtaking each other and pushing the limits of your vehicles.

As the race progressed, Lando began to gain a slight edge, skillfully navigating the corners and maximizing his speed on the straightaways. You gave it your all, refusing to let Lando take the lead without a fight. But despite your best efforts, Lando's expertise and precision behind the wheel proved to be unmatched.

You could feel the wind from Lando's go-kart as he zoomed past the front of your car, leaving you in his dust. His maneuver was both impressive and frustrating, as you had been neck-and-neck for most of the race.

"Hey, I thought you would take it easy on her?" Max asked Lando after he got out of the go-kart.

Lando chuckled and shrugged, " Since she wouldn't give me what I wanted, I had no choice but to do it."

"You would have won regardless, with or without the kiss," you said, also getting out of the go-kart. "It was a great race, Lando. You really showed your skill out there."

Lando grinned, still catching his breath. "Thanks Y/N."

Since you were tired from all the racing, the two guys decided to do some mini games to pass the time while you rested on a chair. They set up a table tennis table and started a friendly match, their competitive spirits still shining through.

As they played, you watched with amusement, enjoying the lighthearted banter and laughter that filled the air.

Occasionally, they would invite you to join in, but you declined, content to relax and soak in the camaraderie that had developed between the three of you.

After a few rounds of table tennis, they moved on to a game of darts, taking turns aiming for the bullseye with precision and skill. It was a refreshing change of pace from the intense racing, and you found yourself appreciating the moment of respite.

As you laid back on the chair, you started to fall asleep, the sounds of their laughter and the clinking of darts fading into the background. The exhaustion from the race and the adrenaline rush began to take its toll, and before you knew it, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling grateful for the bonds of friendship that had been formed during this exhilarating competition.

You knew that there would likely be photos or videos taken of you sleeping, but at that moment, you didn't care. The fatigue from the race had overtaken you, and all you wanted was a peaceful nap.

The trust and camaraderie you had built with Lando and Max allowed you to let your guard down, knowing that even if embarrassing moments were captured, they would remain within the circle of friendship.

The intense racing had left you physically and mentally drained, making the peaceful slumber that followed even more satisfying.

The adrenaline rush and the exertion of pushing yourself to the limit had taken a toll on your energy levels, and the nap provided a much-needed opportunity to recharge and recover. . . .

As you slowly opened your eyes, you were greeted by the refreshing sensation of coolness and shade. You thought the sun had shifted and now cast a gentle shadow over the area where you had been napping.

It was a stark contrast to the warmth and brightness that enveloped you before, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the respite from the scorching heat.

You looked over to see Lando holding an umbrella over you while being on his phone, and couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtful gesture. Despite being absorbed in his own activities, he had taken the time to shield you from the sun and ensure your comfort.

You couldn't help but admire Lando's striking features. His curly hair, tousled by the wind, framed a face that exuded a combination of youthful energy and maturity beyond his years. His eyes, a vibrant shade of hazel, sparkled with intelligence and a mischievous glint that hinted at his playful nature.

The dimples that appeared when he smiled added an undeniable charm to his already captivating presence. And his infectious laughter, a melodic blend of joy and enthusiasm, never failed to brighten your day.

But it was his kind heart and genuine concern for others that truly set him apart.

His selflessness had been evident in countless small gestures, like now, as he shielded you from the sun without a second thought, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to the happiness and well-being of those around him.

His eyes then flickered up and met your eyes, locking in a moment of connection that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. In that instant, it felt as if time had stopped, and the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unspoken emotions.

"Well good evening sleepyhead, how long have you been awake?" Lando teased, breaking the enchanting spell between the two of you.

The sound of his voice brought you back to reality, and you couldn't help but blush at being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

"Wait, did you say evening?" you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts.

Lando chuckled softly, his eyes still holding a twinkle of amusement.

"Well, time flies when you're lost in a nap, doesn't it? It's already late afternoon," he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"What about the video?" you asked, sitting in panic that you ruined it because you were asleep.

Lando's smile widened as he reassured you, "Don't worry, we still have time to do the final if you're still up for it. Your nap just added a touch of authenticity to the footage."

You nodded, taking the umbrella off Lando so he could stretch his arm. As he did, you couldn't help but appreciate the way his muscles flexed and the way his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned skin.

It was moments like these that made you grateful for the unexpected connections you found in life.

"Finally she has risen from the nap of the century," Max said as soon as he saw the both of you walk into the staff room.

You couldn't help but blush at the teasing remark, but Lando's reassuring presence beside you made you feel at ease.

"We're definitely up for finishing the video today," Lando replied with a confident smile. "We just had a little detour, but we're ready to get back on track."

Lando replied confidently, his eyes glancing at you for confirmation.

You nodded, feeling a surge of excitement and determination to complete the project with the support of your newfound connection.

"I guess I can spend one more hour of my time to beat the both of you in go-karting," Max stated, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You couldn't help but exchange a playful glance with Lando, silently accepting the challenge and looking forward to the friendly competition that awaited you.

"Challenge accepted," you replied, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

The upcoming go-karting race was not just a friendly competition between friends. It was the final showdown between Max and Lando, a battle that would determine once and for all who was the true champion of the track.

As Max and Lando did their slow walk for the video, the tension in the air was palpable. This final race was not just about winning a trophy; it was about pride, honor, and the ultimate bragging rights among friends.

The tension in the air was palpable, and everyone knew that this race would be the ultimate test of skill and determination for both competitors.

As they got into their go-karts, Lando gestured for you to come over.

Curiosity piqued, you approached Lando's go-kart, wondering what he had in store.

He leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to need my good luck kiss if you want me to win this race."

"Well," you whispered back with a mischievous glint in your eye, "if it's good luck you're after, I suppose I have no choice but to oblige. After all, we wouldn't want anything to hinder our chances of beating Max, would we?"

Lando grinned and nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with determination. He knew that every advantage counted in this high-stakes race, and he was willing to go to any lengths to secure the victory.

He also just wanted a kiss from you.

You cupped his face and gently placed your lips on his cheek, giving him the good luck kiss he desired.

As your lips touched Lando's cheek, a surge of warmth and determination spread through Lando's body. It was as if the kiss transferred a sense of confidence, fueling him with an electric energy that would propel Lando forward in the race.

As you pulled away, a spark of excitement passed between you, fueling your determination to win the race and prove to Max once and for all that you and Lando were an unstoppable team.

Lando's ears turned a shade of crimson, but his smile only grew brighter. He couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation and confidence, knowing that he had your support and the added boost of the good luck kiss.

"Thanks Y/N," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and excitement. "With your good luck kiss, I know we're going to dominate this race and show Max who the true champion is."

With determination in his eyes, Lando strapped on his helmet and revved the engine of his go-kart, prepared to give it his all in the race.

Blushing at his words, you playfully tapped Lando on the shoulder before walking over to the starting line with the starting pistol in hand.

The anticipation in the air was palpable as you raised the pistol, ready to signal the start of the race and unleash the fierce competition between Lando and Max.

The good luck kiss not only symbolized your support for Lando, but it also ignited a newfound confidence within him.

Fueled by the warmth and determination that the kiss brought, Lando was ready to give his all in the race, knowing that he had the power of your love and support behind him, making him unstoppable.

The sound of the starting pistol echoed through the air, piercing the silence and signaling the beginning of the race.

Lando's go-kart shot forward, the engine roaring as he accelerated with a fierce determination. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his focus fixed solely on the track ahead.

With every twist and turn, he pushed himself to the limit, fueled by the knowledge that he had your love and support propelling him forward.

As the race progressed, Lando skillfully maneuvered through the tight corners and overtaking Max with precision. Each lap brought him closer to victory, and his confidence soared with every successful maneuver. His determination never wavered, and he maintained a steady lead throughout the race.

In the final moments, with the finish line in sight, Lando summoned every ounce of his skill and experience. He pushed his go-kart to its limits, leaving his rival trailing behind.

As he crossed the finish line, a triumphant smile spread across his face.

Lando had emerged as the true champion, proving to Max and everyone else that with your support, he was unstoppable.

He immediately made his way to where you were, quickly jumping out of the go-kart and into your arms. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as he held you tightly, his heart filled with a mixture of excitement and gratitude.

Breathing heavily, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of exhilaration and gratitude, knowing that it was your good luck kiss and unwavering support that propelled him to victory.

With tears of joy welling in his eyes, he whispered, "Thank you for believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

As you took off Lando's helmet, a mischievous smile spread across your face. Playfully, you pressed kisses all over his cheeks, purposely missing his lips. Lando couldn't help but laugh, feeling the warmth of your love and support enveloping him.

In that moment, he knew that your presence and encouragement were the true driving force behind his victory, and he was forever grateful for your unwavering belief in him.

Lando chuckled, his heart still racing from the intense competition.

"If it's good luck kisses that you need to win races, I'll gladly take as many as you want to give," you replied, playfully wiping off the remaining lipstick stains from his face.

Your presence and support had truly become his secret weapon, fueling him with the determination to conquer any race that lay ahead.

Lando couldn't help but blush at your playful gesture, feeling a surge of happiness and gratitude. "I wouldn't say no to more good luck kisses," he replied with a grin, his heart swelling with love for you.

"But can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. He pointed to his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If I win a grand prix, you have to give me a victory kiss right here."

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes, realizing that his request was both playful and sincere.

With a smile, you nodded and replied, "Deal. I'll be waiting to give you that grand prix victory kiss."

Lando chuckled, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can't wait to win these races and claim my well-deserved victory kiss. You better start practicing your cheering skills because I'm going to need all the luck I can get," he teased, his voice filled with determination and anticipation.

"Trust me, I'll be the loudest cheerleader in the stands, I have no doubt that you'll win every race and I'll be right there cheering you on," you replied, your voice filled with unwavering belief and love.

Lost in the moment, the both of you didn't even hear Max do the outro for the video. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and it seemed like everyone around you could see it.

Max, who had been watching your interactions all day, let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you two ever going to get together?" he muttered under his breath, clearly sick of the two of you dancing around your feelings.

It was time to stop playing games and finally admit what had been obvious to everyone else for so long. . . .

And so, the whispers of Lando and your relationship spread throughout the racing community, with everyone eagerly anticipating the day when you would finally become more than just friends. . . .

The anticipation for the Miami Grand Prix reached fever pitch as fans eagerly awaited your relationship with Lando to blossom. The video had ignited a frenzy of excitement, and spectators couldn't help but wonder if the grand prix victory kiss would be the catalyst for your official union.

The anticipation for the Miami Grand Prix was at an all-time high, fueled not only by the excitement of the race but also by the fans' obsession with your relationship with Lando.

Everywhere you went, people asked when you were going to make it official, eagerly waiting for the victory kiss that had been promised.

The pressure was on, but deep down, you both knew that this race would be a turning point in more ways than one.

As Lando delved into intense discussions with the engineers, you took the opportunity to explore the bustling paddock. The atmosphere was electric, with the sounds of engines revving and the smell of burning rubber filling the air.

You wandered from team to team, immersing yourself in the world of Formula 1, gaining a deeper appreciation for the dedication and precision that went into each race.

The atmosphere was electric, with teams frantically making last-minute adjustments to their cars and fans eagerly snapping photos of their favorite drivers.

As you explored, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. The Miami Grand Prix was not only a crucial moment for Lando's racing career but also for your relationship.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" you heard from behind you, turning around to see who it was.

Standing before you was Alexandra Saint Mleux, the renowned fashion influencer and close friend of Lando. Her striking features, with piercing blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blonde hair, seemed to radiate confidence.

She was dressed impeccably, donning a tailored white pantsuit that accentuated her slender figure, paired with a bold statement necklace and stiletto heels, exuding an air of sophistication and glamour.

"Alexandra!" you exclaimed, a smile spreading across your face as you embraced your best friend in the paddock.

It had been far too long since you had seen each other, and you couldn't wait to catch up on all the latest news and gossip.

"How have you been?" Alexandra asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed your life since the last time you had seen her.

"Oh, Alexandra, where do I even begin?" you replied, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. "So much has happened since we last caught up. Lando, and I... it's all been a rollercoaster of emotions."

Alexandra was captivated by your journey and couldn't help but ask, "So, what's the deal with you and Lando? Are you two finally going to make it official?"

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Well, Alexandra, it's complicated," you say with a hint of uncertainty.

"Lando and I have been through so much together, and I care about him deeply. But there are still some things we need to figure out before we can make any official decisions."

Alexandra nodded understandingly, sensing the weight of your words. She quickly changed the topic, eager to distract you from the complexity of your relationship with Lando.

With a smile, she began sharing stories about her recent travels with Leo and Charles and the adventures they had together.

As you listened, the worries and uncertainties faded into the background, replaced by laughter and the warmth of friendship. . . .

"Y/N! Miss L/N!" A McLaren staff came out of nowhere, frantically looking for you. You turned towards them, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your eyes, wondering what could be so urgent that they interrupted your long-awaited reunion with Alexandra.

You turned towards the staff member, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice as you asked, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"It's Lando,"

Startled, you turned to Alexandra and said, "I guess our catch-up will have to wait. Duty calls."

Alexandra nodded understandingly, giving you a quick hug before you followed the staff. "Take care, Y/N," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "I hope everything is alright with Lando."

"I hope so too," you replied, your heart pounding with worry. "I'll find out what's going on and let you know as soon as I can." With that, you hurried after the staff member, praying that whatever had happened to Lando wasn't as serious as it sounded.

As they walked, you asked the staff member, "What happened? Is Lando okay?"

"He won't get in his car," the staff member stated. "He said he needed to see you before he goes."

Your heart sank as you realized that you had let the time slip away. You knew how important it was to be there for Lando before he left, and now you were filled with regret for not keeping your promise. You quickened your pace, hoping that you would be able to reach him in time and make things right.

"Kid, she's not coming," Zac tried to convince him, "You'll see her after the race anyway,"

"But I can't race without seeing her," Lando insisted, his determination unwavering.

"But Lando," Zac pleaded, "this is your chance to prove yourself on the track. You've worked so hard for this opportunity."

Lando shook his head, determination in his eyes. "If she's not coming, then I'm not going," he said firmly, his mind made up.

"Wait, Lando!" you called out, catching up to him just in time. "I'm here, I'm sorry for being late. I couldn't bear the thought of you racing without seeing you first."

Lando's eyes softened as he looked at you. A mix of relief and love filled his expression. "I can't do this without you," he whispered, taking your hand in his.

As you stood there, hand in hand with Lando, you knew that the cameras were capturing this intimate moment between the two of you. But in that moment, you didn't care about the public scrutiny or the potential backlash.

All that mattered was being there for each other, supporting one another through the highs and lows.

The pressure of the race, the expectations, and the regrets of being late all faded away as you stood there, united and ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

"What's the problem?" you asked worriedly, ready to fight anyone for Lando.

"I need my good luck kiss," Lando said desperately, his eyes pleading with you.

"You're telling me that you won't go because you wanted a kiss from me?" you slapped his shoulder gently, your disbelief evident in your voice.

Lando grinned sheepishly, his determination momentarily wavering. "Well, yeah, I guess so," he admitted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of agreement.

Despite the urgency of the situation, you couldn't help but smile at his request. You leaned in and pressed your lips against his cheek, sending a wave of reassurance and love through his body.

"Good luck Lando," you said.

"Thanks, I'll win for you, okay," Lando replied, grinning, running over to his car and driving off at the start of the race.

As you watched him go, a mixture of nerves and excitement filled your heart, knowing that you would be cheering him on every step of the way, no matter what.

"I can't believe that he wasn't going to go without your 'good luck' kiss," you heard Zac say beside you, tired of Lando's behavior.

"I know, it's ridiculous," you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. "But that's just Lando being Lando. He's always had this superstition about needing a good luck kiss before a race. I guess I've just gotten used to it."

"At this point, you two should get together," Zac stated.

You chuckled and glanced at Zac, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. "Well, maybe it's about time we make it official," you replied, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Zac grinned and nodded approvingly, knowing that you and Lando were meant to be together.

You smiled at Zac's comment, realizing that there was truth in his words. It was clear that your bond with Lando went beyond superstitions and good luck kisses.

As you watched the race unfold, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, it was time to take your relationship to the next level. . . .

The Miami Grand Prix was a thrilling and intense race from start to finish. Lando showcased his exceptional driving skills, maneuvering through the challenging turns and maintaining a competitive edge.

He faced tough competition from other skilled drivers, each vying for the top spot. As the laps progressed, Lando's determination remained unwavering, his focus unwavering as he pushed the limits of his car.

Despite the challenges of intense competition and the demanding nature of the race track, Lando remained composed and strategic.

He skillfully navigated through tight turns, battled for position, and made split-second decisions to maintain his competitive edge. It was a true test of his abilities, but Lando's determination and skill shone through, propelling him closer to victory.

The crowd erupted in cheers as he made daring overtakes and showcased his racing prowess.

In the end, Lando emerged victorious, crossing the finish line with a triumphant smile on his face, proving once again that he was a force to be reckoned with in the world of racing.

You were on your feet as soon as he passed the chequered flag, your heart pounding with excitement. The roar of the crowd enveloped you as you joined in the celebration, cheering and clapping for Lando's incredible victory.

The moment was electric, filled with a sense of pride and joy that only intensified as you made your way to the podium to congratulate him on his well-deserved win.

Seeing his triumphant smile up close, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy, knowing that you were there to witness this unforgettable moment in Lando's racing career.

Tears of happiness streamed down your face as you witnessed the culmination of his hard work and dedication, knowing that this victory was not only a testament to his talent

"Let's go, you have a grand prix victory kiss to deliver," Zac said, coming out of nowhere to help you get through the crowd.

People already started to give space as soon as they saw you, having a knowing grin on their faces. It was clear that they recognized you as someone special, someone who was close to the victorious driver.

As you made your way through the crowd, their excitement and anticipation grew, and you could feel their admiration and respect for being part of Lando's inner circle.

The moment you reached where Lando was, the crowd erupted into cheers once again, celebrating not only Lando's victory but also your presence and support throughout his journey.

As you approached Lando, he was still tightly embracing his team, their faces beaming with pride and joy. You waited patiently, soaking in the atmosphere and reflecting on the incredible journey that led to this victorious moment.

The sight of their camaraderie and shared joy warmed your heart, as you knew that their teamwork and support had played a crucial role in Lando's success.

As the team staff pointed at you and yelled, "Aye there's your girlfriend mate!", you couldn't help but blush.

Lando immediately turned around, his eyes falling on you, the biggest grin on his face. He hurriedly made his way towards you, pushing through the crowd, and swept you up in a tight embrace.

"We did it" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine happiness.

"You did it, Lando. It was all you," you said, your voice filled with genuine admiration and pride.

"No, you were my motivation to win," he replied, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh please, don't give me that cliché line," you teased, a mischievous smile dancing on your lips. "But I'm glad I could be there to support you. Congratulations, champ."

You pushed his head gently closer, feeling the electricity between you two intensify as your lips inched closer. The anticipation grew with each passing second, and the world seemed to fade away as you both leaned in, your breathing becoming shallow and quick.

Finally, your lips met in a gentle, tender kiss, savoring the moment of victory and shared love. The kiss started soft and sweet, but soon grew more passionate and intense, fueled by the adrenaline and emotions of the triumphant race.

The kiss started softly, a gentle exploration of each other's lips, but soon grew more intense, fueled by the passion and desire that had been building between you for so long.

The once gentle kisses turned into a hungry exchange, as your lips moved together in perfect sync, leaving no doubt about the depth of your love and longing for each other.

As your lips moved together in perfect sync, Lando's hands tightened their grip on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

The intensity of the kiss mirrored the intensity of the emotions coursing through both of you, solidifying the connection that had been growing between you for so long.

Your hands were tangling in his sweaty hair, the sensation only adding to the exhilaration of the moment. The soft strands slipped through your fingers as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the taste and feel of him.

Time seemed to stand still as you both surrendered to the passion, knowing that this victory was not just about the race, but about the love that had brought you together.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from the kiss, your heart still racing with desire. "As much as I would love to stay here with you, you have a podium to attend in just a few minutes," you reminded him with a playful smile, trying to catch your breath.

Lando pouted at your response but knew he had to leave. "You know where to meet me right?" he whispered, his eyes filled with longing and anticipation, as he reluctantly pulled away, knowing that the celebration would have to wait until later.

"Of course," you replied, your voice filled with the same longing and anticipation. "I'll meet you at our spot as soon as the podium ceremony is over."

He grinned mischievously, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly tearing himself away from you.

The taste of him lingered on your lips as he hurriedly made his way to the podium, leaving you breathless and longing for the moment when you could meet again at your special spot. . . .

As Lando made his way to the media section to be interviewed for his win, his mind couldn't help but wander back to you. Thoughts of your passionate kiss lingered in his thoughts.

He couldn't wait for the podium ceremony to be over so that he could reunite with you at your spot and continue where you had left off.

However, he then felt something on his lips and he snapped out of it, moving away from it - it was a staff cleaning his lips with a cloth.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm only cleaning the lipstick from your lips," The staff answered, confused of his actions. He always let them clean his face before an interview.

He thought of the lipstick you had on which was now on his lips.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in Lando's mischievous mind. With a playful smirk, he leaned closer to the staff member and whispered, "Leave a little lipstick on, just to remind everyone who truly won today."

The staff member couldn't help but chuckle at Lando's mischievous request. Knowing that Lando was the race's victor and had a certain charm that couldn't be resisted, they nodded and left a hint of lipstick on his lips, complying with his playful demand.

As Lando headed to the media section, he couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence, knowing that he had left his mark not only on the race but also on the hearts of the fans.

As Lando approached the interviewer, he confidently took the microphone in his hand. The male interviewer greeted him with a smile, ready to delve into Lando's victorious race and capture his electrifying energy for the fans.

Interviewer asked politely, "Congratulations on your incredible win, Lando! How does it feel to come out on top today?"

"Thank you! It feels absolutely amazing. The race was intense, but I stayed focused and pushed myself to the limit. The car was performing exceptionally well, and my team did an outstanding job with the strategy." Lando replied with, "It's a fantastic feeling to see all the hard work pay off."

"You certainly had everyone on the edge of their seats! Can you walk us through that nail-biting overtaking maneuver in the final lap?"

"Oh, that was a heart-stopping moment for sure! I saw an opportunity to make a move, and I knew I had to seize it. The adrenaline was pumping, and I went for it." Lando explained.

"The car responded perfectly, and I managed to make the pass stick. It was a risky move, but it paid off, and I couldn't be happier with the outcome."

"I can't help but notice the lipstick stain on your lips," The interviewer commented on.

Lando chuckled, his mischievous charm shining through. "Ah, yes, a little souvenir from the victory celebration," he replied with a wink.

"Just a small reminder of the exhilaration and triumph of this race." The interviewer smiled, intrigued by Lando's playful nature, and continued with the interview.

The interviewer laughed, finding Lando's playful nature endearing. "Well, it certainly adds a unique touch to your victory," they replied. "Now, let's talk about the reaction from your fans. Social media is buzzing with excitement over your win. How does it feel to have such a dedicated and passionate fanbase supporting you?"

Lando's smile widened as he replied, "I am incredibly grateful for my fans. Their support means the world to me. It's humbling to know that my performance on the track resonates with so many people. I couldn't ask for better support."

"As you were about to pass the chequered flag, who or what were yout thinking of?"

"As I approached the chequered flag, my mind was filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. Of course, my family and friends were on my mind, but Y/N was definitely the one who occupied my thoughts the most throughout the race. Her support and encouragement gave me that extra push to go for the win." Lando answered with a smile, his voice filled with affection and gratitude.

"Was your motivation to get your victory kiss?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lando said, pointing at his face with a grin. "That victory kiss from Y/N was definitely a motivating factor. Knowing that I had her waiting at the finish line made me push even harder."

"Well, I'll let you go celebrate your win," the interviewer said, acknowledging Lando's eagerness to savor his victory. "But before you go, one last question: what does this win mean for you and your racing career?"

"This win means everything to me and my racing career. It's a validation of all the hard work, dedication, and sacrifices that I've made to get to this point. It's a stepping stone towards achieving my ultimate goals and solidifying my place in the racing world."

As the camera stopped recording and the microphone was taken from him, the interviewer thanked Lando for his time and congratulated him once again on his impressive victory.

Lando ran over to the podium, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion coursing through his veins. As he reached for the trophy, a surge of pride washed over him.

This trophy symbolized not only his victory, but also the culmination of years of hard work, determination, and perseverance.

Lando held the trophy high above his head, basking in the cheers and applause from the crowd, knowing that this moment would forever be etched in his memory as one of his proudest achievements. . . .

As you sat in Lando's driver's room, waiting for him to finish with his interviews, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his incredible achievement.

The way he spoke about you during the interview filled your heart with warmth, knowing that you were his biggest source of motivation and inspiration.

You couldn't wait to congratulate him in person and celebrate this momentous win together.

As you sat in Lando's driver's room, waiting for him to finish with his interviews, you couldn't help but remember the passionate kiss you shared before he had to leave for the race. Your finger grazed over your lips, still tingling from the lingering sensation.

Your hands were tangling in his sweaty hair, the sensation only adding to the exhilaration of the moment. The soft strands slipped through your fingers as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the taste and feel of him.

Your thoughts of the moment of the kiss were interrupted by the door opening and you quickly pulled your hand away from your lips, hoping no one had seen the intimate gesture.

It revealed a beaming Lando with the trophy in his hands. His eyes met yours, and a wide grin spread across his face as he rushed towards you, engulfing you in a tight embrace.

His head was buried into your neck, and you could feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest. The scent of victory and adrenaline filled the air as you held each other tightly, savoring the moment of triumph.

The world around you faded away, and in that embrace, you knew that you were not only celebrating his win, but also the deep bond and love that you shared.

"Can we continue what we stopped before?" Lando asked, his voice low and husky against your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words stirred up the same desire that had ignited between you earlier.

With a mischievous smile, you whispered back, "I think we can definitely make some time for that, especially after this incredible victory."

The anticipation in Lando's eyes mirrored your own as you both shared a knowing look, ready to relish in the passionate moments that awaited you.

Lando's hands were curling around your waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you couldn't help but melt into his strong arms.

In that moment, all you wanted was to lose yourself in his touch and continue where you left off, savoring every delicious second of the passion that awaited you both.

Your lips molded together in a perfect harmony, the softness of his contrasting with the passion in his kiss. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, a mixture of mint and desire.

As your fingers entwined in his hair, you reveled in the sensation of the sweat-soaked strands slipping through your grasp, adding to the intoxicating thrill of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the electric connection that pulsed between you.

The pressure of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that could only be quenched by his touch. Your hearts beat in sync, the rhythm of desire pounding through your chests.

Time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to the taste, the feel, and the sheer intoxication of his kiss.

Every nerve ending in your body came alive, as if electrified by the raw passion that flowed between you.

Lando pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, trust me, baby," he said with a sly grin, "We're just getting started. I have plenty more in store for you tonight."

His teasing words sent a surge of anticipation through you, and you couldn't help but giggle in response.

"Is that so?" you countered, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Well, I can't wait to see what you have in mind. But first, let's celebrate this victory properly."

The air crackled with excitement as you both leaned in for another passionate kiss, ready to explore the depths of desire together. . . .

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

but you belong to me

bf!rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dumbification, jealousy, rough sex

summary — after rafe sees another guy “flirting” with you, he takes you home to remind you of something.

a/n — currently working on some requests so heres whatever this is. please request more!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“no, yeah, like i actually did so fucking bad. i got an 84 and almost cried,” your friend, daniel, said dramatically as he spoke to you over the loud music of the party. he shook his head at the thought. “god, i hate that old-ass teacher. he can suck my fucking dick.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and giggle before taking another sip of your drink. “dude, what are you talking about? that’s not even bad. it’s still a B and i doubt it even dropped your grade.”

unfortunately for you, you could feel rafe’s glare boring into your side as you talked. he was extremely annoyed. he was left wondering what was so insanely interesting that you and this random guy have been talking for 15 minutes already. you looked too engaged in the conversation and you laughed a little too much at what he was saying.

“yo, you good?” topper asked when he noticed his best friend gripping his bottle of beer until his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched almost painfully hard.

rafe didn’t even spare a glance to him, just continued staring at you. “yeah man, ‘m fine,” he said uninterestedly.

he followed his gaze to where he was looking at you just as you laughed with the boy before chuckling and patting his back. “he’s just some fuckin’ pogue, man. no need to worry ‘bout him.”

“fuck off, top,” he mumbled in annoyance. he never wanted to be interacted with when he was pissed off and this was definitely no exception. unless it was you of course.

while daniel spoke, you finally averted your gaze over to your boyfriend who was still leaned up against the wall like he was when you’d left to get more drinks before being stopped by your classmate. you mentally cursed at yourself. he looked pissed. he nodded over the front door, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to follow the silent command.

that was the last thing you could remember from that stupid party. no matter how many times you’d tried to tell your boyfriend that nothing happened, that you were just talking about your grades, he didn’t care or believe that. he knows what he saw and he saw the boy flirting with you.

and that lead you here, face buried into his pillows and your ass up with rafe bullying his cock into your hole with rough hands gripping your hips tight and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. your nails dug into his bed sheets as you felt the slide of tears run down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling of his thrusts.

“such a dumb baby,” he mumbled, freezing deep inside you to make you squeal and squirm. “always gettin’ so fucked up ‘nd letting random guys flirt with you huh? can’t even handle your fuckin’ alcohol.”

you cried harder into the sheets as frustration built up inside you from both the situation and the pain of him bottomed out. “di—didn’t have anyone flirting with me, rafe,” you snapped back as sassily as you could manage.

“what was that baby? couldn’t hear you,” he teased in that rude, mocking voice you hated. he pushed his hips further into you, pushing your body to lean forward more and allowing him to press into you at a different angle.

you whimpered and leaned up on your forearms with the last bit of strength you had to look over your shoulder at him. “you’re bein’ mean.”

he jutted his lower lip out and fake pouted. “aw, i’m bein’ mean? so sorry, sweet girl,” he muttered before grabbing your hips and pulling them back to their normal position. he slowly pulled back then pushed forward harshly, making you yelp and jolt forward. he repeated the action multiple times. “maybe this’ll teach you a lesson not to fuck around with other dudes.”

you balled up the sheets and buried your face in them when he began snapping into you quickly. your legs began shaking and threatening to give out under the pressure and rough force of his thrusts. “can you be a good girl and keep yourself up for me, baby?”

after another particularly hard thrust, your body finally collapsed and your cried out when he quickly slipped out of you. you could hear him sigh from behind you. “jesus. went all fuckin’ dumb in me and now i gotta do all the work, right?” he mocked before pressing your legs together and straddling them to then slide back into you.

you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered at the new sensitivity the angle brought. he leaned forward once he was fully sheathed inside you to grab a pillow and wrap one arm under your hips to lift them up enough to slid it under and ease the pain of your back and hips. the small act of care and kindness made you smile against the mattress.

he began to pound into your used hole from behind just enough to make you scream but not hurt you. “feels good, rafe. ‘s so fuckin’ good,” you babbled mindlessly to let him know you were still here and okay. “so—so deep.”

“yeah? can feel you squeezing around me,” he replied, continuing his punishing pace. “shoulda recorded this shit to show everyone how much of a fuckin’ slut you are once you get my dick inside you. maybe then everyone would stay the fuck away from my girl. maybe i should jus’ knock you up, cum inside this little cunt and have you all swollen with my kid so everyone sees you’re mine.”

you felt yourself involuntarily clench at the words before your legs began to spasm again. “oh! ‘m gonna come, rafe. please, please, please,” you begged for sweet release and he fucked you quicker until he felt you cream around him.

he chuckled and leaned down to kiss between your shoulder blades as you continued to ride through it. “that’s it. feels like fuckin’ heaven around me. best pussy i’ll ever have,” he mumbled against your skin. “i’ve got you, baby. ‘m right here.”

his hands gently kneaded the fat of your ass as you finally came down before swiping the pillow out from under you and pulling out. he rolled you onto your back and took in the sight of your disheveled state. your hair was messy and sticking to your face and up in the air, your cheeks were blushed from the intensity of your orgasm, and your tits were sitting so prettily right in front of him. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, angel. what’d i do to deserve you?”

in contrast to just moments ago, he softly pushed the hair off your face and smoothed it down. he leaned forward to gently suck on your left breast and leave deep colored hickeys along your skin for him to look back at later. while one hand toyed with your other breast, the other lined himself back up with you then pushed himself inside.

you bit your lip and whimpered at the stretch of him. “oh fuck,” you heard him moan against your breast before switching and sucking your other nipple into his mouth. he slowly rocked into you at a much more loving and delicate pace. it wasn’t about punishing you anymore, he just wanted to feel you and be close to you.

you sighed in relief when be began hitting that certain spot inside of you a much more tolerable pace and his pelvis gently rubbed against your clit. it felt like you were starting to see stars with how he’d press against it for prolonged moments. he left wet kisses up your neck and to your jaw then finally your lips. he was leaned up on his forearms at either side of your head while he kissed you softly with that same passionate love he always showed you.

your hands reached up onto his head, searching for something to grab onto only then remembering the buzzcut he now has. you moaned into his mouth when you felt him speed up just slightly while your hands continued to roam for something to hold from the overwhelming pleasure you could feel building up again.

he took hold your hand and intertwined your fingers at the side of your head, letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed as your moans began to pick up and so did his soft pants of breath. “fuck, angel. pussy feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly. “‘m gonna come.”

you hummed in agreement and clenched around him, making him groan and gently suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “inside, rafe. p—please come inside me,” you moaned, desperate to feel him fill you up.

he mumbled a string a curses before spilling inside you and triggering your own orgasm. he continued softly kissing at your skin and allowing you to squeeze his hand through the pleasure until he finally rode it out for the both of you. “you okay, baby?” he mumbled slightly out of breath.

you nodded and huffed out slow breaths. “mhm, ‘m good,” you replied, still in euphoric bliss.

he slowly laid on top of you as to not crush you with his weight before burying his face in your neck, still inside you. “don’t ever let me catch another dude flirting with you again,” he said against your skin.

you rolled your eyes. “oh fuck off,” you said jokingly while pushing him off of you and out of you then rolling onto your side away from him.

he laughed softly and quickly followed, grabbing your waist to pull you back into his chest to smother your shoulder and neck with wet kisses.

[luviestarz]

yoon jeonghan fic recs!

✧ such a flirt ! - @amateurasterism (it’s simple: jeonghan knows he’s a flirt, but didn’t realize you flirting back was the key to breaking him.)

✧ deeper in denial ! - @amateurasterism (if there’s one thing you know about jeonghan, it’s that he’s a tease. what happens when the teasing makes it to soonyoung’s game of spin the bottle?)

✧ MON ANGE ! - @itadorins

✧ KIDULT - @hvae (jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too)

✧ mirror mirror - @cheolism (jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are)

✧ It's Nice To Have A Friend | yjh x reader - @sluttywoozi (You and Jeonghan have embarked on your fifth annual Best Friends trip, but it's a bit different than usual, considering he made the reservation under Yoon Y/N and told them he was your husband. What's a honeymoon between friends anyway?)

✧ a little attention - @onlymingyus

✧ MY ATTENTION - @slytherinshua

✧ when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you - @wonwoonlight

✧ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 ♥︎ - yoon jeonghan ! - @hoshzone (not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.)

✧ call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M] - @sweetlemontart (to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.)

✧ to live again | yoon jeonghan - @viastro (it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?)

✧ 彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan - @seuonji (daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?)

✧ the long way | yoon jeonghan - @trblsvt (it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy.)

✧ — ode to you  - @lovelyhan (if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.)

✧ rain and kisses | yoon jeonghan - @babyleostuff

✧ sharing is caring - yoon jeonghan - @etherealyoungk

✧ lowkey — yoon jeonghan - @chenfleur (Jeonghan's supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes, and he's nowhere to be found.)

✧ our dawn is hotter than day. - @ikigaisvt (in which you and your boyfriend says i love you for the first time surrounded by his friends.)

[hoshifighting]

      jeon wonwoo as ghostface

— self-explanatory title.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, fingering, penetrative sex, public-sex, halloween/trick-or-treat setting, mentions of body fluids (cum), mentions of alcohol (beer)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it’s halloween night, and you barely get off the couch before the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell has you grumbling under your breath. “fuck’s sake, it’s way too late for this,” you mutter, swinging open the door to give some half-assed apology to whoever’s outside. except, what you see makes you pause, lips twitching in disbelief.

“really?” your eyes sweep over the trio standing there. wonwoo in a full ghostface costume—at least, you assume it’s wonwoo—tilts his head in that lazy way of his, towering in that black robe, seungcheol grinning like an idiot in his chucky outfit, and then there’s chan… dressed as pikachu.

you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow. “aren’t you guys a little too old for trick-or-treating?”

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, that creepy ghostface mask just staring back at you while seungcheol laughs, giving chan a light shove forward. “we know you’ve got something for us,” seungcheol says, his voice casual, teasing.

“and i’m not giving you candy.”

“oh, we know,” wonwoo finally speaks up, his voice muffled through the mask. something about that deep tone hits different tonight, and you swallow, trying to play it off. it’s not the time. definitely not the time.

“beer work?” you roll your eyes, already stepping back to let them in.

“now we’re talking,” seungcheol grins as he brushes past you, chan giving you a quick thumbs up before following suit. wonwoo lingers, his tall frame blocking the doorway for a second longer than necessary, and you can feel his eyes on you through that mask. it’s unsettling… in a good way.

“you coming in, or are you gonna stand there all night?” you challenge, keeping your tone casual as you move into the kitchen.

he doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“didn’t know ghostface was such a creep,” you mutter, grabbing a few beers from the fridge and cracking one open for yourself. you hand the others to seungcheol and chan, who are already making themselves at home on your couch, flipping through your tv channels like they own the place.

wonwoo’s still standing there, leaning against the counter now, that damn mask still on. he doesn’t take the beer when you offer it, just watches.

“you not drinking?” you raise an eyebrow.

“might later,” he says, low and quiet, like there’s a double meaning behind his words. your stomach tightens. you blame the beer.

seungcheol’s already yelling at chan for hogging the remote, the two of them bickering like kids. it’s easy to ignore, but wonwoo? not so much.

“what’s with the mask, anyway? trying to freak me out?”

he cocks his head again, slow and deliberate. “you scared?”

you scoff, taking a long sip from your bottle. “you wish.”

wonwoo pushes off the counter, stepping closer, and your heart picks up. he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent. you can feel the heat radiating off him, even through that damn costume.

“maybe i do.”

your breath catches in your throat. for a second, you wonder if you’re imagining things, but the way he’s staring down at you—you know something’s different tonight.

you’ve known these guys for a while. they’re neighborhood friends, yeah, but you’ve never seen wonwoo act like this. there’s always been a tension, sure, some light flirting here and there, but this?... hmm you had this feeling in your gut.

“what, you got some kind of halloween kink or something?” you joke, trying to ease the tension, but it falls flat when he doesn’t laugh.

instead, he reaches up, slowly pulling the mask off, and your breath hitches. his dark eyes lock on yours, and you realize there’s no going back from this.

“maybe,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, “or maybe i’ve just been waiting for an excuse.”

an excuse? to what? you almost laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze drops to your lips—it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

you bite your lip, meeting his gaze with a defiant look. “and what makes you think i’m gonna let you?”

his lips curl into the smallest of smirks, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you, one hand gripping your waist, pulling you against him. the other comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“because i know you want me to.”

the arrogance in his voice would usually piss you off, but tonight? tonight, goes straight to your pussy. fuck, maybe he’s right.

“cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you don’t pull away. in fact, you lean into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his costume.

“you have no idea,” he breathes, before his lips crash into yours.

it’s rough, frantic, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. his hands grip your waist harder, pulling you against him like he can’t get enough.

his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the meat through the soft fabric of your shorts, making you gasp against his lips. “shit, wonwoo,” you breathe, feeling the warmth of his touch sear through the thin material. you’re already on edge, nerves buzzing under your skin, and he knows exactly what he’s doing—taking his time, working you up until you’re practically shaking.

“these shorts… they’re killing me,” he mutters, voice low in your ear as he grips you harder. “you didn’t think i’d notice?” his fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, just enough to tease you, before slipping down, grazing your thigh.

“didn’t think i’d be giving you a show tonight,” you say, but it comes out breathier than you intended, the words barely a whisper as his hand slips under the leg of your shorts, fingers brushing dangerously close to your bare skin. no panties. fuck. it’s like he knew, like he’s been planning this all night.

a groan escapes his throat when he realizes, pulling back just enough to look at you, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “no panties?”

“got a problem with that?” you challenge, but your voice wavers when his fingers brush between your legs, just barely skimming your clit. your body reacts on instinct, hips jerking forward, seeking more of his touch.

“not at all,” he says. “just makes it easier for me.”

he doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t give you a chance to say anything smart before he’s pushing your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. the first touch is light, teasing, barely there, but it’s enough to make you bite down on your lip, stifling a moan.

his fingers press against your slit, dragging up to your clit, making you squirm in his grip. you’re hyper-aware of how close the others are, the sound of seungcheol and chan still bickering in the background, the tv blaring—any minute, they could turn around, see what’s happening, but the risk only makes it hotter.

“you’re soaked,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers circle your clit in lazy strokes. “you like knowing they could see us, don’t you?”

you shiver at his words, legs trembling as he works you open with those skilled fingers, teasing you until you’re desperate—more desperate. “shut up,” you manage to hiss, but the way your body arches into his touch betrays you.

he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before sliding one finger inside you. your walls clench around him, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. but fuck, it’s hard—especially when he’s moving like that, slow, deep, curling his finger just right.

“fuck, wonwoo,” you breathe, hips grinding down against his hand, chasing the friction.

he adds another finger, stretching you, his pace picking up as he fucks you with his hand. it’s messy, the wet sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you filling the space between you, and you’re doing everything you can to keep quiet, but it’s fucking impossible.

his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that has your vision going blurred. “feel good?”

“yes!” you gasp, hips moving on their own, grinding against his hand. you’re so close already, the tension building fast and hard in your core.

“think you can stay quiet?” he asks, his tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. he wants you to be loud, to give yourself away—but he also knows the thrill of keeping it a secret, the tension of holding back.

you’re about to answer when he pulls his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the loss. “wonwoo, please—”

he doesn’t give you time to beg, spinning you around and pressing you against the counter, his chest flush against your back. you can hear the soft clink of his belt being undone, feel the hard press of him against your ass, and your pulse skyrockets in anticipation.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pulls your shorts to the side, lining himself up at your entrance. “think you can do that?”

“y-yes—” you barely get the word out before he’s pushing into you, filling you completely. your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out—just a sharp inhale as your hands grip the counter, knuckles white with how hard you’re holding on.

“so fucking wet baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out inside you. “god, you feel so good.”

you’re struggling to breathe, your body trembling. it’s too much, too good, and you’re doing everything you can to keep from making any noise, but it’s so fucking hard when he’s moving like this, slow and deep, each thrust making your knees buckle harder.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, but he cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“shh, can’t have them hearing you,” he whispers, his voice rough in your ear as he starts to move, each thrust harder and faster than the last. “unless you want them to see how needy you are for me.”

your walls go clenching around him as he fucks you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely masked by the noise from the tv. you’re so close, the tension in your belly coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“fuck, that pussy was made for me,” he grits out, his grip on your hips bruising as he slams into you. “gonna come for me?”

you nod, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge, his hand still pressed over your mouth, muffling the desperate moans you can’t hold back anymore.

“good girl,” he groans, his pace relentless as he fucks you through it, his hips slamming against yours with enough force to make the counter shake.

the orgasm crashes over you suddenly, your body tensing as the pleasure rips through you, and you’re so close to crying out, the sound muffled by his hand as you come undone around him. your walls pulse and clench, and you can feel him losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy.

he curses under his breath, his hands gripping you harder as he buries himself deep inside you, his own release following quickly after. you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with the slick cum, and it takes everything in you not to collapse right then and there.

he pulls out slowly, letting out a breathy groan as he steps back, leaving you panting against the counter, your legs shaking.

“we should… probably get back to the others,” you manage to say, voice hoarse.

“yeah,” wonwoo says, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “but i think they already know.”

you whip around to glare at him, but he just smirks, pulling his ghostface mask back on before heading back into the living room.

as you follow, trying to fix your clothes and compose yourself, you catch chan’s knowing smirk and seungcheol’s raised eyebrow.

“didn’t know it was that kind of halloween party,” seungcheol teases, making you roll your eyes.

“shut up,” you mutter, grabbing another beer from the fridge and sinking down onto the couch, heart still racing.

“whatever you say,” chan sings, winking at you before turning back to the tv.

[thinkinonsense]

old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl *mdni

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something smutty so if it sucks im sorry lmao also if any writers have any tips please share! :)

logan has been around for long enough to know when a woman is attracted to him. there was a certain essence given off that was always a dead giveaway. usually it came from women close to the age he looked like and it tended to be brief moments of lust before all hope was lost. this was until he met you.

the pretty young girl working at the diner during her time off from college. everyday, he came in and ordered a black coffee. the coffee wasn't even that good but logan would spend two dollars every single day of his life if it came with the view of you bending over in that tiny uniform skirt.

logan would watch you for hours while he drank and skimmed the news paper alone in a booth. your hair was always up in either a ponytail or held together with a hair clip. he loved seeing your pretty handwriting as you scribbled on your notepad, taking orders. it was part of your job to be nice to everyone but you were especially nice to him. even your friends began to notice how you would linger by his table, constantly topping off his coffee mug and making small talk; sometimes giving him a slice of cherry pie on the house.

"don't you think he's kinda old for you?" one of your friends whispers to you behind the counter.

it's stung but you suppose she had a point. what would a man old enough to be your father want with a young wild girl like yourself?

"i-i guess so?" you stuttered, embarrassed at your previous attempt at flirting with him.

the rest of the night, you hoped he would leave before close so you could have some time alone with your feelings. summer was almost over and you would go back to the city soon. it was time to forget these silly fantasizes.

by ten, all the other waitresses went home except you, the older woman in the back who counted the drawer every night, and a few of the cooks. the only customer still there was logan. he flipped through one of the books he brought with him; still sipping away at that damn coffee.

"isn't it getting a little late for you, sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, not even looking up at you as you bent over to scrub the table next to his. the fifth table you've cleaned in the last hour and the second time you've cleaned that specific table. logan noticed but you didn't.

"need the hours." you mumble, frustrated by a stubborn stain. all logan could focus on was your scrunched nose and how your tight top pushed your boobs together just right for his viewing. "college is fucking expensive plus grants and scholarships only cover so much."

"hmm.." logan grunts. grants? scholarship? what a goody fucking two shoes, logan thought to himself. "if you bring me piece of pie, i think i can help you out."

you lean off the table and go get what's left in the glass container. it's probably a little hard so you definitely didn't plan on charging him for it. you sit the plate down in front of him and before you could turn around to walk away, logan reaches for your wrist softly.

"join me." he offers.

you knew you shouldn't but what was really the harm? at least your friends weren't here to make fun of you. the radio played quietly on an older station while you watched logan take a bite of the pie.

"why did your friends leave you here alone?" he asked, watching your face turn sour at the memory of them.

"don't wanna talk about it." your voice was small in the empty diner.

"why? think an old man like me can't relate to it?" logan chuckles. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. so much for not embarrassing yourself.

"no, no, not that." you shake your head and a strand of hair falls from your bun. "just sort of juvenile, you know?"

logan could tell that you were trying to come off more mature around him. you didn't want him to see you as some college kid.

"juvenile, how?" he eggs on, pushing down his glasses a bit.

god, those glasses got to you; and logan knew it.

"they don't understand how i feel about someone." you sigh.

"how do you feel about this person?" logan noticed you now avoiding his gaze, not liking it one bit. "eyes on me, princess."

the nickname caught you off guard like a dear in headlight; blinking and trembling up at logan. something logan enjoyed very much and could get used to.

"it's not important, just some stupid crush." you lie through your teeth. "they will forget about me in a month."

"why don't you think it'll work?" he cocks his head to the side a bit. "you're a pretty young thing, dollface. anyone of those college boys would be lucky to be wrapped around your little finger."

"i don't want college boys." you mumble, slightly annoyed by the memory of your friends.

logan felt himself getting hard at you admitting you had a taste for someone older. his eyes grew dark as he leaned in a little over the table.

"then what do you want?"

your moment to answer was interrupted by the older woman from the back, releasing you to go home for the evening. this was your chance to get up and leave before you admitted anything else that you would regret.

both of you stood up. logan threw down some cash while you went to collect your stuff behind the counter.

"i'll see you tomorrow, lo-"

"you didn't answer the question."

"i must go now if i want to catch the last train."

logan worried about you taking the train back to your apartment alone this late at night. usually you drive back but your car has been in the shop for almost three days now. he would watch you get to your car every night to make sure you were safe.

"i can drive you home." logan offers.

you shouldn't be this excited to be sitting in a strangers truck alone at night but here you were. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before logan brought up the conversation from the diner again. what did you even want?

"i want someone who understands me..." you begin rattling off the first things that come to mind when you notice logan's hand on your knee. you don't dare move.

"someone who is responsible..." with every word, his hand creeps higher and higher up your skirt. logan is more than pleased when he notices your legs spread on their own.

"someone who is m-mature..." logan's fingers inch towards the delicate skin of your inner thigh. there's no way this was happening, you thought as his index finger plays with the lace on the center of your pink underwear. he smirked at the wet spot front and center, waiting for him.

"treats me r-r-right." every word was a struggle to form as he stroked you softly. back and forth. back and forth.

logan nods along, not letting up down below. his index finger hooks onto your underwear, pulling it aside. you weren't even sure if you were breathing at this point; all this teasing was torture.

"p-p-please, logan..." you whine. "touch me."

his thumb rubs tiny circles on your button, adoring the way his name pours from your glossy lips. your hands fly to his wrists, needing more; nails digging into his skin in the most delicious way.

"where did this greediness come from?" logan groans, dipping his index finger inside of you. "what happened to that good girl from the diner?"

logan's finger barely fit in the tight space. your head fell back and a loud moan escaped you.

"oh, you weren't letting those college boys touch you at all, huh?" logan mocks, adding another finger and creating a steady pace.

"n-no!" you whine, lifting your hips a little.

"you were waiting for a real man to have his way with you, isn't that right, pretty girl?" he growls, pushing your hips back down.

you completely missed logan pulling off to the side of the road until now. his pace increases becoming rather rough now that he isn't driving. logan leaves deep purple bruises down your neck and across your chest, praising you to no end until you gush around his fingers, completely soaking his palm.

your heart pounded like you had just finished a marathon. logan allowed you to catch your breath as he carefully removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. he can feel your dazy eyes staring at him as he does so, making a real show of it.

"i've been wanting to do that for months now." he admits with a smirk.

"me too." you said, leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss; tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. logan wraps his hands around your hair, pulling you back a little when another moan falls from your lips.

"and we aren't even close to being done."

[endlessthxxghts]

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | notifs blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town. 

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason. 

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you. 

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction. 

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.” 

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you. 

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up. 

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you. 

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of. 

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you. 

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts. 

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements. 

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter. 

“I said—” 

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm. 

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you. 

Well, apparently not everyone. 

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back. 

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips. 

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him. 

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines. 

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him. 

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life. 

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.” 

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you. 

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take. 

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now. 

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom. 

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming. 

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless. 

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself. 

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking. 

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered. 

Fuck. 

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you. 

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?” 

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. 

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure. 

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries. 

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here. 

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps. 

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it. 

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him. 

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to. 

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout. 

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him. 

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you. 

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming. 

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze. 

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again. 

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend. 

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces. 

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest. 

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks. 

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?” 

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

[gamora-borealis]

here's the thing. to outsiders it may seem like we're excited because "phan is real!!" or whatever. but they don't know... it's not about that. phan has been real this entire time. there's always been evidence that dan and phil were together, more or less (more evidence than I think some people realize). the reason phan™ is such a big deal is because two silly gay boys met online in 2009, but their fame quickly outgrew their comfort zone and they quickly went back in the closet. dan was so traumatized from being bullied in school that he had a public meltdown on tumblr in 2012 insisting he was straight after some very private stuff leaked (that he insisted was a unused prank). after going to therapy and meeting so many queer fans on tour, dan slowly began to hint again that he was queer. but it still took them until 2019 to officially come out! and like. dan essentially confirmed that yes all the public online flirting back in 2009/2010 between him and phil was very real and that they were "more than just romantic" at that point and were currently "real best friends, life companions, and soulmates." but that was it, they weren't going to share any more. which is perfectly fine, but some of that definitely had to do with dan wanting to explore himself outside of the Dan and Phil™ brand (which unfortunately he got fucked over by the pandemic and by YouTube in the process). however they did eventually make a very cute announcement that they had bought and designed a new house together. and bit by bit they started making some more coupley jokes about each other here and there and sharing glimpses of a bedroom with both of their stuff in it, though it was still fairly subdued. but then dan finally got to go do his solo comedy tour and when he came back, shit suddenly CHANGED. 2023 was wild. they brought back their joint gaming channel they hadn't touched in five years since just before they came out. and they basically started the public flirting again??? this time on camera??? maybe not as direct as the 2009 stuff at first but. it's definitely been building up close to it. and then Dan finally releases his comedy special for free on YouTube. Phil writes a gushy tweet about it. and dan just replies with 🧡. ...except for within a larger birthday tweet in 2023, dan had not used a heart emoji for phil since like... 2010??? and then suddenly he screenshots this interaction and POSTS IT ON HIS YOUTUBE COMMUNITY TAB with the caption "gay" and a link to his special. like. this isn't about confirmation... the people who have been saying that they probably aren't together or that you shouldn't think or wonder if they are were like, the twitter morality police, ex-phannies, and generally clueless people. tumblr phannies clearly have known that they've been gay for each other for the past 15 years. but this whole "gay 🧡" incident is the first time Dan Howell has very publicly said something like this about his relationship while being "unapologetically gay" as a very public figure (there's been some magazine interviews that technically have come close but, nothing as direct as this). like that is so fucking huge??? that he and phil are finally comfortable enough online, on YouTube, and in life, to go there!!! as we are now approaching fifteen years of them together too!!! like, it's so nice to get to celebrate such a happy queer relationship and expression of queer joy. and dan has hinted that bigger stuff is coming too... like. yeah phan is real I guess 🙃