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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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money, power, glory - coriolanus snow

on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?

cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo

the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.

you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.

you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.

‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.

you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.

‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’

drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.

‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.

drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.

‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.

you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.

and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.

among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.

drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.

‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.

he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.

‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.

‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.

he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.

‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.

‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’

his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.

‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’

your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’

president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.

‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.

he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.

the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.

‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.

‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’

you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?

‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.

‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’

you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.

‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.

you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.

—

drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.

‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.

the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.

let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.

‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.

‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.

‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.

your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.

‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.

drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.

‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’

your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.

‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’

‘others?’ your voice falters.

‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.

you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.

you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.

you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.

every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?

—

the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.

your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.

without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.

you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.

you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.

you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.

the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.

you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.

‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.

you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.

‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.

you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.

‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.

‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’

you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.

‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.

in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?

‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.

you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?

‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.

you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.

he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.

‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.

‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.

‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’

you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.

‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’

your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?

‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.

‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.

‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.

‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’

he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.

‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’

you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.

he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.

his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?

but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.

‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.

‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.

‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.

he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.

‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.

‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.

your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.

he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.

‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.

your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.

‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.

your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.

‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.

you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.

‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.

‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.

‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’

you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.

finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.

you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.

you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.

'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.

his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.

'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.

feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.

hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.

'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.

'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.

and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.

'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.

you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.

‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.

when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.

‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.

you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.

he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.

he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.

he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.

‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.

you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.

‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’

you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.

‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.

you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.

'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.

'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.

'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.

he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.

'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.

you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.

as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.

‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.

you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.

‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.

you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.

‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.

‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.

‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.

the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.

you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.

‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.

‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.

you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!

‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’

when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.

‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.

he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.

'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.

another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.

'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'

the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.

'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.

coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.

when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.

‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.

your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.

‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’

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sayoneee · 4 months

Text

☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.

kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song <;/3

MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime.

or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin.

maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.

“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?”

your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.

your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.

“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”

clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.

“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”

“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.

“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.

“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”

the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.

you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”

you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.

how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”

clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”

“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.

like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death.

this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.

you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention.

before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa.

“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?”

luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.

“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”

“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over.

“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”

“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”

you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin.

“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.

“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)

“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.

“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.

“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.

“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.

“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.

“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.

the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.

you sighed, it could’ve been worse.

+4.

you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.

you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.

when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on.

when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.

luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck.

“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.

“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek.

he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.

“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do.

a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”

you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”

luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.”

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hoshigray · 29 days

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hmmmm, chosuki both "marking their territory" after one of reader's friends gets a little too touchy?

Love your work <3333333

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: when i tell you i was grinning once i saw this in my inbox, lol, finally chosuki yessss!! ty for loving my stuff ☆

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso + Yuki x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - threesome - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - anal (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl 69 + missionary positions - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/marking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, honey, sweetie, sweet pea) - mild possessive behavior.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so lucky to have such eye-catchers fawning over you!”

“Pfffthaha, oh, stop it! You’re drunk; stop swinging around!”

There’s one thing in this world that both Yuki and Choso don’t play about — you.

You are the sweetest and most prized treasure they cherish with their very hands. Being in a poly relationship tends to be a hard thing to manage for Yuki and Choso. The two lovers were never in luck to find the right person who didn’t match their vibe or wanted to change the dynamic they were going for. But with every dark tunnel, there’s a light on the other side. And thanks to the blonde and dark brunette’s stars, you were their saving grace.

God, they adored you very much — the best partner they could ever have. The way you’d wake up to them and give them a kiss with a soft ‘good morning,’ how you make lunch for Choso before he goes on his way to work, or texting sweet messages to Yuki to check how she’s doing or telling her about this new place that opened around the area for all three of you to explore. Blind by your smile and caring charm, Yuki and Choso live in eternal bliss and happiness, knowing you have blessed them with your presence to return home to.

Their love for you is mutual and genuine, authentic in that they wish to spend their days — no, their entire lives! — being with you. They see you as their muse, as theirs. So, it’s predictable that they’d be secretly jealous when they’d have to share their piece of heaven with others.

Especially now when all three of you had been dragged by some of your old college buddies for a night out at the pub. Figuring this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce your friends to your lovers, Yuki and Choso were invited over to enjoy the merits of this occasion. What the two partners hadn’t expected was how close you all were — albeit a little too close for their liking.

You all sat at one big round booth table, Yuki and Choso being separated from you as your friends wanted to have you by them for just the night. Again, it made the two lovers feel uneasy. Even when a girl friend grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers enthusiastically, the blonde can’t fight the twitch of her ruby eyes. The friend goes on to say, “Nah, are you kidding? I think those two are the ones who are lucky to have Y/n! They’re such an angel; anyone would feel like they’ve won a million dollars if they got with someone like them.”

Then, a guy who was visibly buzzed joined the praise fest. “You’re so right! I’d do backflips every day if I scored someone so gracious and sweet as Y/n,” the drunk man brings a hand on your shoulder and nestles his cheek to your shoulder. Choso attempts to keep a neutral expression, but caramel eyes carry a tiny hostile aura. “I’d make sure to love on them every single day, kiss their feet when they walk, wash their hair when they ask—“

“Okay, lover boy,” you stop him before your drunken friend digs his foolish grave even further, and it’s hard to hide your giggles. “I think that’s enough Crowne and tequila for one night.”

You and your friends laugh and continue to strike up a conversation to catch up on material. However, you’re so engrossed in the others’ talk that you can’t sense the tension that’s brewing from the other side where your lovers sit. The two survey the scene with silent eyes, with Choso hitting his leg to stop the bounce of his knee and Yuki tapping her fingernails on the table surface.

All they could do was watch you, their treasured partner, share your attention with those who cherish you. Although, internally, they wanted you all to themselves. Yes, it was selfish; however, you can’t blame your lovers for being a little protective of you. Specifically when it seems your friends don’t appear to respect your boundaries when in their company.

So for that, it’s no surprise they instantly pull you into the bedroom once you three return home. Hungry kisses are exchanged between three pairs of lips, lustful hands stripping you of your clothes and throwing you onto the bed, where they meet in seconds to feast upon you.

“Hahhh, fuck…Hmmm, yeah, lick right there, honey.”

“Mmmm…Mmahh!! Choso, your tongue—Ohh! Feels so good…”

The brunette man is lying down on his back with you straddling above him, his face and mouth buried into our folds, licking around your labia and sucking your essence that seeps out from the pleasurable motions. His hands knead the flesh of your inner thighs as you hum along to the touch. Simultaneously, you use your tongue and mouth to give pleasure to Yuki’s slit, the blonde releasing shaky moans as she rides on Choso’s length with her ass.

The tall woman peers down to watch you orally please her. She strokes your head with a pleasant hand and sends praises. “There you go, cutie,” she bites her lip. “Lick it real good.”

Her commands egg you on to keep going, using the motion of her hips to your advantage to predict how far in you can keep lapping her chasm. Your hands crawl to her waist to massage, using the leverage to keep your lips on her at all times. And to your effort, she is sighing happily at the gratification you give her. It has her rock her hips ever harder, taking in Choso’s long shaft with hunger.

The man below you grunts at the motion, stuffing his face more into your cunt to suck harshly. And you can’t help but jolt, muffled squeals vibrating to Yuki’s core — and she relishes the feeling.

“Look at you, baby,” Choso slowly licks your chasm, sending shivers up to your shoulders. “You’re all wet and ready for us, huh? So good for us,” He kisses your clit and places lazy licks, and you fight to lose your balance.

“Hmmm, yeah, so good for us…Although—mmahh,” Yuki throws her head back at Choso’s dick scraping her insides at the right places. “Can’t say you were good when we were…Hohhh..at the pub.” You bat your eyes towards her in confusion, yet your tongue and lips remain busy. “Letting those people touch you in front of us; what were you thinking?”

You remove your mouth from Yuki to explain, her slick connected to your bottom lip. But before you could utter a word, your body jerked to the sharp instance of pain on your inner thigh. Choso had bit you, licking the place his teeth sank in before throwing in another nibble. You shriek, turning to plead to the man to be easy; however, the woman grabs your head and brings it back to where it’s supposed to be. “Don’t forget about me, sweet pea,” she chuckles at your feverish laps on her wet folds. “Give me my attention…”

She moans to your work, satisfying her with the flick of your tongue on her delicate clit. She rocks her hips even faster, prompting Choso to groan and buck his pelvis to her puckered hole, and his mouth remains glued to your chasm. He then sneaks a finger to toy around your asshole, and a sharp gasp erupts from your figure when he inserts the digit inside.

“—Khhaaa, oooohmy fuckin’—Gaaahh!” Flicks to your clitoris tag along with the push of his finger inside your ass, playing with the texture by scraping the walls. And when his tongue goes inside your vagina, you clamp onto him with vigor. Fuck, I’m so close…! “Yukiiii, pleaseee, can I cumm?”

“Aww, why should I let you,” her sweet tone distracted you from the sneaking bit of the man’s teeth on your thigh once more. “Do you deserve to cum? After letting other people touch you like you forgot you had your lovers present?”

“Hahhhnn, I’m sorry; I—shit… didn’t mean to upset you both…Ooof!” Choso switches his finger with his thumb, pushing it to and fro inside your tight entrance. Your eyes screw shut, “Please forgive me, you two are the only ones I love…”

“You swear on that, honey?” A glint shines in her magenta orbs.

You nod hurriedly before placing kisses on Yuki’s thighs and trailing them back to her vagina, “Yessss, I love you both so much, no one knows how to love me as you do…” Your hips sway involuntarily — not a problem for Choso, who sticks to you no matter what. “Mmmm, only you two know my mind and body, and I wouldn’t want it any other way…”

Blonde brows eyebrows screw together; fuck, you knew what to say to make Yuki fall for you all over again. Her cunt clenching on nothing but the love your words carry. Jesus, you were too much. Without a word, she gently withdraws your body from her body so she can lift her body off of Choso. She then flips you over; now you’re the one lying on your back, with the tall woman stationed behind to snake her hands to your breasts.

Choso’s pigtails have long been drawn down for his hair to fall to his nape, and strands of his walnut-colored hair stick to his forehead. Maneuvering to his knees, he examines your anticipated expression, shaky wails coming out your puffy lips as Yuki places soft kisses on your neck. She also places bites wherever her mouth can reach, her hands busy cupping your mounds, groping the mounds, and tweezing your nipples. With how hard she was sucking your skin, you’re sure there’d be hickeys when you wake up in the morning. The man strokes his dick at the sight before him, inching closer to be between your legs.

“Choso…” The way you said his name made him feel warm; the mark across his nose exuded streaks of his blood that threatened to fall. His ears and shoulders get pinker, and your breath hitches when he slaps the tip onto your saliva-coated slit.

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He says it low to your ear, and you chew on your lip when he licks your lobe. His mouth travels down, leaving harsh sucks on your neck and clavicle along with Yuki. Two mouths on your body have you whimpering like a fool, so sensitive to their touch that you could wither away. “Hmm? Who loves you most, sweetie?” He comes down to your chest that’s occupied by Yuki’s worshipping hands, popping a nipple into his mouth to suck with care.

“Hahhh, you, Choso, my darling…” you sigh into the sense of his mouth licking diligently around your bud. Your face turns in Yuki’s direction, smiling at the golden-haired woman before claiming her lips. “And Yuki, my love…”

The two of you kiss slowly yet maintain the same passion you have for each other, noses brushing against each other and tongues swirling before smacking lips together. The brunette lifts his head from your chest, straightening his posture to insert his cockhead inside your vagina. You mewl into Yuki at the insertion, and it doesn’t stop as the woman slithers a hand to your clit to swipe. You break the kiss in a huff, making the blonde snicker.

“Mmmph…Jesus Christ,” Choso trembles at the warm snug of your cunt as it accepts his length, pushing in for every inch of him to be swallowed in. When his base meets your southern lips, you hiss at how full you feel from his size. “You know how much we love you, right, baby?”

You nod to him, Yuki placing another hickey-worth kiss on your shoulder. “Your love makes me full, honey…Ohooo…!”

“And don’t forget that…” Choso snaps his hips, drilling his long dick into you and making precise hits to the walls of your chasm. You squeak beneath him, the tip of his cock poking your sweet spots with ease, and you’re gripping the sheets to keep you steady along with Yuki’s hold on you.

The blonde woman flickers her ruby eyes to Choso and beams, “You know you’re hot as hell when you’re all possessive, right?”

“Shut up,” he shushes her with a kiss, humming to her lips that reciprocate his feelings as lovers. The only noise that fills the room is your whines and wails from the hands fondling your body and the shaft plunging so far inside you that you can’t contain the ecstatic screams originating from your inner being. Good God, this felt so fucking good; being wanted and loved by these two is a sensation incomparable to anything. You want to drown in it, be immersed within it, have your senses be robbed of their very being until you fall deep into sleep in their embrace. This feels so worth it, so satisfying…

…Until you look at yourself in the mirror and find so many fucking hickeys all over your body, all the way from your neck to the grave of your thighs. This was not a sight to see after waking up, especially on the morning your friends from last night invited you over for brunch.

Needless to say, you pulled your lovers aside and gave them an earful. The two nodded to your words, saying “Sorry…” throughout your rant as you tried to find an adequate outfit to conceal their markings, feeling a little bad that they got carried away with you last night.

All is good, in any case. Because now they know that you are theirs both in mind and body.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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taevbears · 7 months

Text

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it.

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung.

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you.

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths.

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer.

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail.

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain.

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films.

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek.

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—”

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face.

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds.

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

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russo-woso · 4 days

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Wimbledon || Leah Williamson

Based on this Request here. Thank you anon for sending it in :)

First of all, I don’t know anything about tennis or Wimbledon so this was a guess. Hopefully it works like this.

Warning smut, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, top!leah

Tennis had always been your life.

Your mum and her sisters had grown up playing tennis, and so you were bound to play it too.

Being the only daughter, niece and granddaughter, it was up to you to continue their legacy.

And that’s what you did.

You collapsed to the floor in happiness as the ball hit your racket for the final time.

After weeks of going through knockout stages, you had won.

After years of injuries and constant hard work, you had won.

Winning Wimbledon had only ever been your dream since the age of four, and here you were collecting the trophy from princess Kate.

Lifting the trophy up in the air, your eyes connected with your family, tears streaming down their faces, but there was another person who looked even more prouder.

Your fiancé, Leah, was sat next to your mum, smiling through the tears that welled in her eyes.

You blew her a kiss, Leah immediately blowing one back.

Once shaking hands with everyone, you made your way back to your designated changing room where you were met with Leah.

Leah had her arms open, waiting for you to jump in them.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” She mumbled in your hair, placing you back on the ground before putting her lips on yours. “Listen, your family wants to go out for dinner and they’ve reserved the table for 5:30 so you’ve got just under an hour to get ready.”

“Okay, perfect. God, I can’t believe I just won Wimbledon. I’ve dreamed of winning it since I was four, Le.” You tell her and once again, she envelops you in a hug.

“I know, pretty girl and I am so proud of you.” You connected your lips with Leah’s, the kiss becoming passionate very quickly.

“Here’s the star girl. Well done hunny.” Your mum walked through the door, you and Leah separating very quickly.

“Thanks mum. It’s all thank to you that I’m here today. Thank you.” You said, hugging her.

“It’s all you, darling. You’re here today because you worked for it. Now hurry up, you two stop kissing and actually get changed. I’m not having us be late for our reservation.”

————————

“Le, stop it.” You whisper to her, removing her curious hand from your thigh.

“Come on, pretty girl, I’m just resting my hand there.” Leah responded, putting her hand on the original place it was in before it started travelling.

You looked up and tried to join the conversation but was soon distracting by Leah’s lingering fingers travelling up your thigh.

“I — umm — Do you mind if I take a minute? Le, come with.” You stuttered, stumbling out of your chair, before practically dragging Leah to the toilets. “What’s up with—” You began asking Leah but you were cut off with her lips on yours.

“I just wanna show you how proud I am.” Leah said, separating your lips from hers, reconnecting them to your jaw seconds later.

You whined as Leah nipped at your neck, marking it gently and leaving light red marks.

“We’re gonna have to be quick, love, okay? Be quiet.”

Leah’s hands travelled down your body before reaching up your dress.

“Le, please. Please don’t tease.” You whined into her shoulder, resting your head on it.

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t.”

You felt Leah’s hand touch your clit and your knees buckled from beneath you, luckily Leah held you up.

“Good girl, keep quiet.” Leah said, circling your clit at a set pace.

“Oh god - Le, it feels so good.”

“I know it does baby, but keep quiet.”

“I don’t think I can, le.” You managed to mumble into Leah’s shoulder as moans escaped your mouth.

“Lift your head up.” Leah commanded and you obeyed, meeting Leah’s eyes.

Within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours, Leah swallowing your moans.

“I’m close, le. I’m so close. Oh god - I’m gonna cum.”

You took ahold of Leah’s neck, pulling her into you so your lips were on hers, Leah swallowing all your orgasmic moans.

“I love you so much.” You told Leah, separating your lips.

“I love you too, pretty girl. We’ll continue this when we get home, okay? I’m gonna make you know how proud I am.” Leah stated, pressing her lips on your head as she helped you gain your balance on the floor.

“Y/N, Leah, are you in there?” You heard your mums voice say through the toilet door.

“Umm, yes mum, we’ll be out in a minute.” You said, stuttering some of your words.

“We’ll try leave early. I’ll come up with an excuse.” Leah told you with a smirk, opening the door and putting her hand in yours.

It was going to be a sinful night.

Requests are open :)

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #woso smut #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut

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rad-batson · 1 year

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The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

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cameronspecial · 8 months

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Boyfriend Rules

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 400+

Summary: Rafe isn't an idiot; he knows the rules of a boyfriend.

A/N: This idea came to me thanks to this Instagram post.

Masterlist

Y/N Maybank isn’t used to a life of luxury. She grew up on the Cut side of the island with a daredevil of a younger brother and an alcoholic father. She is used to working two jobs and taking care of her brother. But now that she is dating Rafe Cameron, he has made it his life mission to give her more to life than caring for JJ. She makes it incredibly difficult though because she is so used to taking care of herself. She had implemented a ‘Nothing over fifty dollars’ rule, meaning that he couldn’t pay for anything over that amount and an ‘I pay for every other date’ rule, which meant he couldn’t spoil her how he wanted to. She is the only one he takes orders from.

However, on his birthday, she decides to lift those rules so that one of his greatest wishes comes true. They had spent the morning at several expensive brand-name stores buying everything he thought she looked great in, so literally everything she tried on. They had a late brunch at a very expensive establishment and spent the afternoon at a very luxurious spa. With everything he is buying her, one would think it was her birthday, not his. The final stop of the day was a fancy Michelin star restaurant that would’ve cost Y/N at least four months' worth of pay cheques to pay for everything Rafe bought them. The couple are returning to Rafe’s car when they come across a strip of grass.

Y/N has been struggling all night with the Louis Vuitton that Rafe got her. Normally, she wears the same beat up running shoes because she couldn’t afford anything else, let alone a night out. She approaches the grass with hesitancy, but Rafe takes matters into his own hands. He wraps his arm just below her bum and lifts her up, her arm instinctively circles around his neck. She laughs at his antics, “Baby, what are you doing?”

“You may have your own rules but I also know the Boyfriend Rules.”

“And what would those be?”

“Well, I might get grief from the others for telling you but I can’t keep secrets from you. You shouldn’t let your high-heeled wearing girlfriend walk on any uneven or non-solid surfaces. You should always let her have the booth. You should always keep her on the building side of the sidewalk, away from the street. Always order extra food even though she says she isn’t hungry. And my personal favourite, always offer her your jacket when she is cold.”

“I wasn’t aware those rules existed. But thank you. For everything you do for me and try to do for me. I appreciate it.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and then on his lips, which he receives with a childlike grin. They’ve both won the lottery when it comes to relationships.

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janeyseymour · 25 days

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I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

based off of that tiktok trend: "i wouldn't tell anyone i won the lottery, but there'd be signs".

WC: ~2.75k

Melissa Schemmenti has worked at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School for years. And in those years, the one constant in her life has been Barbara Howard. The two had started the same year, and while many things have changed, their friendship would never. No, Melissa had watched as Barbara married Gerald, witnessed the woman’s growing belly as she carried both of her daughters, had seen the ups and downs in the Howard family. And likewise, Barbara had been there to see the marriage to Joe, the divorce of Joe, the lean years… and everything in between. They’ve seen the way that teachers come and go, children grow up before their very eyes, and at this point they’ve taught children of students that they had in the starting years. Teaching practices have grown and changed- it’s really an ever-evolving world that they live in.

The second grade teacher had a solid wardrobe that she kept in rotation over the years- really just a few blazers, her signature leather jacket, the same shirt in various colors, a few pairs of slacks and jeans, and of course her heeled boots that she wore everyday without fail.

“Melissa,” Barbara had asked one day. “Perhaps you and I should hit the mall? I know some great places that have wonderful clearance sections.”

“Are you tellin’ me I need to change out my wardrobe?” the redhead teased as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“You know that is not what I am saying, woman,” Barb rolled her eyes. “But I see the way that your shirts are starting to wear thin. I also need an outfit for the end of the year banquet that this damned superintendent is forcing me to go to.”

“When you’re part of a committee, you have to go to that kind of stuff,” the second grade teacher had smirked. “Why you think I ain’t a part of all that?”

Even after the two of them hit it off, going to the mall whenever they found themselves with enough money to spare to treat themselves to a shopping spree, Melissa’s outfits still mostly circulate without fail.

Years pass, and then she meets you one night while she’s out at the bar. She walks in, and you’re captivated. You don’t know what draws you to her, but whatever it is is magical. Your eyes hardly leave her stunning figure as she dances. You know that by the end of the night, you have to at least attempt to make a move on her.

And you do when she decides to take a break from dancing to come over to the bar. Conveniently, the only opening is by where you’re sitting and nursing a margarita.

By some grace of God, she’s been watching you too- trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you over the loud music and people dancing all around you.

She saunters up to the spot that you’re at and smiles at you. Wow… her smile is radiant.

“How come a pretty girl like you ain’t out there dancing with someone?”

“Just came here after a hard day at work,” you shrug. “Wanted a marg, thought maybe the music and drinks would brighten my spirit.”

“Well, you got the marg,” she gestures to your half empty glass. “Why don’t I buy you another, and then we can listen to the music together?”

“I’m sure you have friends here that wouldn’t want me crashing.”

“I’m here alone,” the redhead reveals. “The name’s Melissa. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her.

“Well, Y/N, why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can be alone… together.”

You end up getting her number as you part ways for the night, and simply text her when you get home that night, time and place.

She’s just walked into her own house when your text comes through. How does Renata’s Kitchen at 5:30 on Tuesday sound?

I have to wait tomorrow and Monday to see you?

I mean, I could grab a coffee tomorrow after church if you’d rather that, the redheaded beauty sends.

You send her the address of your favorite coffee place, which just so happens to be hers as well. You wonder if the two of you have ever run into each other and just not known it at the time.

The outing for coffee ends up being an entire day’s worth of just walking around the city together as you chat about life. You find out that she’s a second grade teacher at one of the local schools and that she has Sunday dinners with her family every week (that is actually the only reason she has to regretfully leave you that day) among many other things. She finds out that you work for one of the local law firms down the street from Abbott, ironically enough. How have the two of you never bumped into each other, or at least seen each other? You get to your place of work at the same time as she does, you’ve both gone down to the same Wawa at the same time for lunch because your lunch hours coincide, and she quite literally walks past your firm to get to happy hour specials with her coworkers.

Once she leaves you to head to her family dinner, she texts you to let you know that she would still love to do dinner with you on Tuesday. You excitedly reply that you would be absolutely delighted.

The two of you have been going out for quite some time now, and it’s quite funny that you’ve both kept it on the down low. You’re a bit concerned that while courtrooms have progressed with society that if your relationship were to become public, it could get in the way of cases. And she, similarly is nervous that she could face backlash at the school she works for for being in a homosexual relationship. So, neither of you have said anything to your coworkers. And it’s all going swimmingly. While you had both just stumbled upon each other one night at the bar, not expecting to find each other, here you are two years later as a happy couple.

You land the case of a lifetime, one where you could make a decent profit off of your already relatively high paying salary. On top of that, you know that you’re about to be promoted after working with this firm for the last five years.

You end up winning the case, bringing in some good money, and then you’re moving up the ladder and finding yourself with more cash outflow than you know what to do with at the moment. It’s too much for you, living in a small apartment in the city by yourself with nothing else to worry about. So, when your girlfriend comes over to your apartment for dinner, you propose something.

“Mel?” you ask as she stands at your stovetop. She hums to let you know that she’s listening, but her eyes stay trained on the vegetables that she’s chopping right now. “How would you feel if we moved in together?”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board halts, and she turns to face you. “What?”

“We’ve been together for almost two years,” you tell her. “I just got that nice promotion, plus a huge payout from the settlement with DuBoise, so… I was thinking maybe we could move in together? Find a nice townhouse somewhere in the city and settle into our lives together?”

About a million emotions flicker through the redhead’s face before it settles on a smile. “I think that might be a good idea.”

So, after months of looking, you both say goodbye to your small apartments and are able to move into a beautiful townhouse in Queen Village. When Melissa files the paperwork to change her address for paychecks, Ava comes flying into the staff lounge with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Uh, ahem,” the principal coughs out and raises her brows, waving the paperwork in front of the second grade teacher during lunch.

“What?” your girlfriend grumbles as she grades a few papers and shoves a forkful of her salad into her mouth.

“Since when did you move?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Melissa shrugs.

Barbara’s brows furrow. She wasn’t aware her friend was moving house. “Oh, Melissa. Could you not afford the place anymore?”

“Girl, she upgraded big time! Went from living in the slums to a three bedroom townhouse in Queen Village!”

“Queen Village?” the kindergarten teacher repeats.

Again, the redhead just shrugs.

“Melissa, how did you manage that? I know what you make, and there is no way you could afford to live somewhere like that!” Janine cuts in.

“Can it, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say… I have my ways.”

Nobody is brave enough to ask the mob-like woman what the hell that could even mean.

“Well, when do we get to see the place?” Jacob tries to invite himself over.

Green eyes glare over at the man. “If I can help it, never.”

“Oh c’mon, Mel Mel,” Jacobs whines out. “I lived with you at one point! Why can’t we come see your new place?”

“At the time, I did not know it was you,” the redhead huffs. “And then you moved out on me.”

“Because I found

The second grade teacher blows out a breath. “Maybe once I have it all furnished and put together.”

So, once the two of you have the place put together for the most part, the Abbott clan makes their way over while you’re out of town for a convention that you were forced to go to.

To say that the crew is beyond impressed is an understatement.

“Melissa, this is beautiful,” Barbara compliments.

“How? How?” is all Jacob and Janine can stutter out.

The redhead just smirks. “I know a guy.”

They leave not knowing that the guy that she knows is you- her girlfriend of almost two and a half years at this point. And because it’s you, and you have an unwavering love for Melissa, the house is impeccable and everything she could ever want it to. You take good care of her.

Since moving in together, Melissa’s meals have only become more extravagant. With both of your finances almost entirely combined at this point, you spoil her with the best foods and ingredients that you can get her at any moment. So when she comes into the staff room with way fancier dishes for her lunch, it raises a few eyebrows. The teachers have seen Melissa stretch a dollar like a big headed baby stretches a… the redhead smirks.

“I know a guy,” is all she offers up.

The eyebrows of her coworkers only creep further up her head when she comes in with leftovers from one of the nicest restaurants in the city- a place known nationally for the delicate dishes and absolutely delectable desserts.

She’s eating the extra slice of cheesecake the two of you had brought home when Janine leans over. “How’d you get that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You sure seem to know a lot of guys.”

They have no idea that there are not multiple people- you are almost singlehandedly responsible for the lavish lifestyle that your girlfriend suddenly leads.

Somehow, Melissa is forced to go to one of the banquet dinners that the district is holding because she’s hit a milestone in her teaching, and they’re highlighting her. So, of course Barb offers to go with her to try to find something nice to wear to the dinner that she too will be attending.

“Oh, I think I actually have an outfit,” the redhead refutes the offer. “But thank you.”

“Girl, you never turn down an opportunity to go out shopping,” the kindergarten teacher raises a brow.

“I just… know a guy that already bought me an outfit.”

Melissa shows up to the event looking like a million bucks, and Barbara almost can’t believe it. The redhead’s hair is curled to perfection, the dress that she’s in has clearly been tailored to accentuate all of her curves and to be the proper length. The shoes that she’s wearing are not the black heeled boots Barbara is so used to seeing her work wife wear- no, instead she’s got on a pair of heels that have to be at least two hundred dollars if the kindergarten teacher had to guess.

Of course, their picture gets snapped and is posted to the school website a few days later.

At lunch, while Janine is eating and on her laptop, her eyes go wide. “Melissa!”

“What?”

“You looked beautiful the other night!”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How did you get all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

Jacob moves his chair so he too can get a look.

“Melissa, that is…” he thinks to himself quietly. “At least a six hundred dollar look! For a school event? Girl, where are you getting all of this stuff?!”

“I told youse, I know a guy.”

It’s a weekend when the Abbott crew decides to get together, and they all have plans to go to Barbara’s house for game night, but Gerald gets sick and they can no longer use the Howard residence.

“Well, I guess we should cancel,” Melissa sighs as they’re all leaving the school that day.

“What if we just came to your place?” the kindergarten teacher asks. “It’s the only other space big enough to accommodate us all.”

Begrudgingly, the second grade teacher agrees. As everyone is on their way over, she calls you.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” she says softly. “So… change in plans for tonight.”

“Oh? Do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly…” the redhead trails off. “We’re moving game night to our house.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your face dropping as you thumb through papers in your office.

“Yeah,” she hums.

“I mean, I guess I can go out to dinner with my mom or something to pass the-”

“What if we just… came out? At least just to the crew,” your girlfriend suggests quietly.

You mull that option over for a few seconds. “Y-yeah. If you’re ready for that.”

“I am if you are.”

“I can pick up dinner,” you tell her. “I should be out of here by 5:30, and then I can head over to grab some food before coming home.”

“There’s…” she counts in her head. “eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Somehow Mr. J wormed himself into this get together,” Melissa laughs softly. “Something about getting the band back together- whatever the hell that means.

Once you’re free from work, you head over to one of the nicer restaurants in the city, and because you and Melissa have become frequent flyers there, they’re able to oblige your request for a few trays of food. You leave a generous tip before packing the food into your car and making your way back to your townhouse.

Upon pulling in, you take a few deep breaths before gathering your briefcase and the food and making your way to the door.

When you push it open, all eyes are on you.

“Hey,” you sigh as you kick off your shoes and head for the kitchen table to put down all the food.

“Melissa, you didn’t tell us you have a roommate, never mind a hot one!” Ava grins.

The redhead just rolls her eyes before glaring. That glare is gone though once you make your way back into the living room and sit down next to your girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” you smile at her before kissing her cheek softly.

“Babe?” Barbara’s eyes go wide. “Melissa Ann, do you have a girlfriend?”

The redhead just smirks. “Oh, did I not mention that I am happily in a relationship and have been for two and a half years?”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson furrows his brows and looks you over. “Ain’t you one of those fancy lawyers that works at the firm down the street from Abbott?”

You nod. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cordially shake everybody’s hand with a kind smile.

“Wait,” Janine pieces it all together. “Is this why you moved and could afford this place? Why your meals have gotten a lot fancier, and how you could afford the clothes you wore to the dinner the other night?”

Melissa just nods. “I guess you could say… I won the lottery with this one.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction

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lewlewlemon44 · 5 months

Text

Honeymoon SMAU | LH44

Pairing- reader! x Lewis Hamilton

Warnings- 18+, suggestive content, swearing.

Summary- you and Lewis get married and share part of your honeymoon with your fans.

yourinstagram

yourinstagram We did it! I finally married the love of my life. There is not better feeling than this! I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you @lewishamilton, you are the most amazing person I have ever met, and I can’t express how proud am to be your wife. ❤️

lewishamilton love you babe, I never imagined that one day I’d marry someone as amazing as you❤️

SusieWolff congratulations you two! The ceremony was so beautiful💜

yourinstagram thank you Susie

fencer best night ever bruvs

->yourInstagram would’ve been better if you didn’t come looking for Lew and I but whatever

->Fencer Carmen was looking for him! It was either me or her so just be happy it was only me that had to witness that

->spinzbeatsinc I tried to warn you not to look for them, they can barely keep their hands to themselves without a giant event celebrating their love for one another

->lewishamilton we get it, thanks guys

->teamLH omfisgsgedjg poor Miles

mercedesf1 Mr and Mrs Hamilton💜

F1 Congratulations Mr and Mrs Hamilton! Can’t wait to see you both in the paddock again!

landonorris does this mean I can call you mum now?

->yourInstagram of course son

->landonorris 😎

mrsnorris4 sidgensjdbeb they’ve adopted Lando!

y/nstan oh so we're just going to ignore the 3rd picture... okay

->pierregasly Lewis will kill us if we do

->likedbypierregassleee BBG LEWIS? NO SHOT

->charlesleclerc might look bbg but he's a trained fighter, just ask Max or Fernando

yourbestfriend love you guys! ps this does mean Lewis can stop being my sugar daddy

->yourinstagram of course not, he knows the rules

yourinstagram story

lewishamiltoninstagram story

yourinstagram

yourinstagram one day into the honeymoon and he's already being a dick but whatever, still love you.❤

yourbestfriend girl what did I tell you? take sex away from him when he's being sassy.

->yourintagram how do you know I didn't?☹

->yourbestfriend did you?

->lewishamilton nope

->lewy/n fudeutyujdehgfyuhtgs

lewishamilton I've been a dream, what you talking about?

->yourinstagram babe I've posted the evidence; you threw me in the water and also flipped me off when I asked if you packed the towels.

->lewishamilton nah not true

->maxverstappen we can see it Lewis

->lewishamilton see what?

luluham NOT LEWIS TRYING TO GASLIGHT EVERYONE

liked by youinstagram, maxverstappen and pierregasly

sebastainvettel looks like a lot of fun, enjoy this time before you start having kids!

liked by lewishamilton and yourinstagram

->rb!seb LMAO SEB

lewishamilton love you too sweetie❤

lewishamiltoninstagram story

yourinstagram story

lewishamilton

lewishamilton so lucky to be your husband, kinda miss our son tho .❤

landonorris awe miss you too, dad

->roscoelovescoco 😑

-> y/nstan LEWIS GHUIFH

yourinstagram I'm the lucky one❤

lewy/nsupremacy OMG THEY WENT GO KARTING

danielriccardo who won tho?

->yourinstagram me, of course

->lewishamilton huh?

roscoelovescoco mums so prettys

->yourinstagram thank you Ros, miss you little buddy

->LHitaly oh my god thats so cute

yourinstagram story

youinstagram

yourinstagram look at my man @lewishamilton 🤤

lewishamilton ❤

danielriccardo i'd be shocked if you don't come back pregnant.

liked by lewishamilton and yourinstagram

->landonorris ewww no

->alexalbon don't worry Lando, it's just the stork.

nicolashamilton no, thank you.

->hamiltonbrothers i dont think I can look at him the same

stansunite THEY LIKED DANIELS COMMENT WE'RE GOING TO GET A LEWY/N BABY IN 9 MONTHS

->deluluforlulu OMG THAT BABY WILL BE SO CUTE

->y/nstan imagine the content we'd get omg

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis x reader #lewis hamilton smau #my stories

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lnlightning81 · 7 days

Text

Quiet Dates - Part Five [OB38]

Series : Younger Sister

Summary: Ollie takes you on that first date because he won the bet. Takes you to a small cafe so your anxiety doesn't get the best of you and you can enjoy it

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader, Lando Norris x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist Oliver Bearman Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist Younger Sister Masterlist Tag List

Standing in the hotel room, Lando was out visiting Carlos and making sure that he was okay. Normal boyfriend duties as you liked to annoy him about. Hungary was fairly warm, so you had decided on a nice outfit that would keep you cool but still allow you to be comfortable in what you were wearing at the same time.

There was a knock on the door, so you got up from the bed and wandered over to it. Opening the door to see Ollie with a smile on his face wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Hey” You smiled, opening the door further to let him into the hotel room. Ollie was silent as he followed you back into the hotel room. You turned to look at him as you grabbed your handbag and phone

“Hey you okay?” You asked him with a frown as you walked over to him.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. You just look really good” He smiled, and you blushed, glancing down to the ground before looking up at him

“You also look very good” You smiled, taking his hand in your own. Ollie blushed as he looked down at you.

“Thanks. I found a nice little cafe it was really empty when I went past it, and I figured that you’d quite like it” He smiled, and you nodded

“Sounds perfect” You smiled, walking out of the hotel room with him.

Walking to the cafe was nice and calm. Ollie made sure that he was holding your hand the whole way there to help ease your nerves as you walked, which you were so thankful for. You hadn’t known each other in person for a long time, but you had been talking over text for ages, which meant you both knew more about each other than you thought.

You looked up at the little cafe Ollie had found. It looked like a small family fun business that had pictures of the family history dotted around the cafe. Taking you inside, Ollie found a table for you both sitting opposite each other with a smile.

“So how's the race treating you?” Ollie asked as you looked about the cafe taking in the decor.

“They’re good. I’m quite enjoying them. Still not so comfortable about trending on social media every time I breathe. but it’s okay. I’m getting used to it. Comes with the job. Although teenage boys and girls who find out you’re hanging out with Formula One drivers aren’t the best. They’ve been blowing my phone up” You chuckled, and he nodded

“Oh I get that. The number of people I’ve had in my text messages from before I left school this weekend is crazy” He laughed, and you nodded, looking at the menu

“So I believe it’s my turn to pay” You hummed, and he shook his head

“Got to beat me to it” He hummed, and you rolled your eyes

“You know I will. You might have the reaction speed, but I’ve got older siblings” You hummed, giving your order to the waitress. Ollie did the same, ordering some tea and a slice of cake

“Don’t tell my trainer” He joked, and you nodded

“I don’t even know who your trainer is” You shrugged, and he laughed, holding your hand across the table

“So I know you probably don’t want anyone to ask you this, but how are you feeling about tomorrow?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to look at him

“I’m scared. More than scared, actually. Formula One is so much different to Formula Two. It’s faster, the cars are different, a lot more g-force, more g-force in crashes. There’s so much that could go wrong” He ran a hand down his face as you gently squeezed his hand.

“Ollie you’re going to do great. Look at how amazing you did today! I know it was probably a stupid question, and I’ve just made you even more anxious than before, but honestly, I know you’re going to do great. I know you are, and remember we’ve got a deal you need to keep” You hummed, and he smiled at you taking a drink of his tea

“Have you met Charles’ puppy yet?” Ollie asked, changing the subject

“He’s got a puppy?” You asked now, very excited. Ollie nodded

“Here let me show you” Ollie showed you a little picture of the puppy

“He’s a little dachshund” You smiled, looking at the picture

“I can see. He’s very cute. Is he here?” You asked, and Ollie nodded

“Yeah. I’ll let you meet him tomorrow. He wasn’t at quali” You smiled eating a bit of your cake.

“Want to go for a walk?” Ollie asked once you had both finished your drinks and food.

“Oh that sounds like a good idea” You smiled, getting up and walking to pay. Ollie tried to push you out the way so he could get there first and pay

“Oh come on, Ollie. You paid for the ice creams” You whined as he paid for the drinks and food. Oliver took your hand as you walked around the park that was next to the cafe. Your energy picked up as you spotted a play park.

Dropping Ollie’s hand, you skipped over, getting on the swings and starting to swing. Ollie laughed, following behind you in just a walk as you waved him over to come on the swings with you.

“You have so much energy” He chuckled while getting on the swing next to you.

“It’s a Norris thing. Actually no it’s not. It’s a Lando and Y/N thing. None of our other siblings have this much energy” You shrugged, enjoying yourself.

“That’s probably true” He laughed as you tried to get higher than him on the swing, except he was able to get higher faster

“Oh come on. I just want to go higher” You huffed, and he chuckled, getting off the swing and giving you a push. Your giggles make him smile even more than he already was.

Getting off the swing, your arms instantly wrapped around him as you regained your balance. Ollie pressed a kiss to your temple before you looked up at him with a smile

“I want to change our deal” You hummed, and he frowned, looking down at you

“What why?” He asked, confused, trying to read your face

“If you finish the race tomorrow, then I’ll go on another date with you. However, I don’t want our relationship to spawn out of a bet for your first ever formula one race. I want that to happen whenever we want that to happen” You explained gently, resting your chin on his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist

“What if I want that to happen tonight?” He asked

“I think I’d like that” You smiled up at him as he leaned down a little. Your faces hovering above each other

“Can I kiss you?” Oliver asked, and you nodded

“I think I’d like that too” You whispered as he leaned down.

Your lips pressed together gently as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by your waist. You smiled into the kiss, relaxing in his arms as you kissed him. Pulling back after a little while. You rested your head against his chest as you looked up at him

“Was that okay?” He asked, causing you to nod

“It definitely was. Although you’ve stolen all my energy now” You joked, and he laughed

“Good. It means you’ll stop texting me at two in the morning” you smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his body as he started walking with you again. Looking at your phone, Lando had texted to say that he was back in the hotel room now and not to wake him.

“We both know that I’ll be tired until I get into bed and then I’ll be jumping on Lando again” Ollie laughed as you pulled a hair tie off your wrist and pulled your hair out of your face.

“I know my dads here, and he’ll be in the garage tomorrow, but I’d really appreciate it if you would be in the Ferrari garage tomorrow. You’ve got this great way of calming me down” You smiled, looking up at him

“You know I’ll be there if you want me there. Lando really won’t care” You hummed, and he nodded, stopping as you passed a fountain. You looked at him with a frown as he looked down at you with a smile on his face

“Make a wish” He hummed, and you turned to the fountain and made a wish before starting to walk back to the hotel. Walking you up to the hotel room stopping outside of your room with Ollie, who smiled at you

“Thank you for coming out with me” He smiled

“Of course. I really enjoyed it, Ollie. Thank you” You smiled, opening the hotel door up after giving Ollie another hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Walking into the hotel room silently, assuming that Lando would be asleep by now. you let out a scream when you saw Lando sat staring at you

“Jesus fuck Lando” You swore hand going to your chest as Lando laughed at you. There was a knock at the door

“Y/N?” Ollie called, and you opened up the door to see a worried looking Oliver Bearman.

“I heard you scream. Are you okay?” He asked, looking to check you for any injuries

“Yeah. Just got a heart attack from my lovely brother. He told me he’d be sleeping, but he was sat staring at me” You explained as Lando was still laughing in the background

“Oh good. I’m gonna go back to my room then” he smiled

“Night Ollie” Shutting the door again, you turned back to Lando, rolling your eyes as you sat on your bed, taking your shoes off

“How was your date?” Lando asked, raising his eyebrows as he turned in his seat

“It was good. We went to a little cafe then walked around the park. I got a little too excited when I saw some swings” Lando laughed

“So you admit it was a date?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes again

“Yeah. I admit it” You grabbed your clothes walking into the bathroom as Lando cheered obviously very happy with the outcome.

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Tag List

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@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

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@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

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@ellen3101

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@jisungstuff

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elllisaaa · 3 months

Text

how seventeen would confess to you - vu vers.

-> pairing : svt vu × gn!reader

-> words count : 3.5k words

-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

YOON JEONGHAN - SNEAKY

he’s a tease.

i’m sorry but do something ridiculous and he’s gonna bring it back until the end of your life.

but you’ve been friends for a long time, and you have many embarrassing things to remind him too.

so it’s really a silly little war of who will tell the most unhinged story about the other.

both of you like to do game nights, but you eventually realized how competitive he was, and how he didn’t mind cheating as long as he won, luckily, you were the same.

it makes you laugh most of the time, especially when he is like that with his members.

but he also knows when to calm down and be serious. he would be there for you without you even needing to say anything.

i think he’s a great listener too, ready to ease all your worries and remind you of your own value.

he’s the sweetest when he wants to, but he’s also a menace.

because he’s also flirty sometimes, playing it as a joke but deep down, he hopes that one day you’ll catch on how much you actually mean to him.

being the tease he is, his confession would be like that too.

“- So, I need your advice on a situation.”

You sat in front of him, handing him a hot mug of tea, enough to last through all his gossip. It was not unusual for the both of you to meet on your days off and just spill the tea about your coworkers and friends, laughing at each other's stories.

“- I’m all ears !

I have a friend who’s like… Really in love with his best friend, he has been for years actually. I think everyone around them has noticed how much he likes them, except them of course. And he wants to finally confess, but he doesn't know how to, and I don’t know how to help him myself.”

Jeonghan tried to not let any emotion show on his face as he was telling you his well-prepared speech. His goal was to keep on his little game for as long as he could, just to tease you like he loved too. He got out of his thoughts when you talked again, answering his indirect question.

“- Well, I think he should just go for it. If they’ve been best friends for this long, they should be as comfortable around each other as we are, and he shouldn’t be afraid of breaking their relationship or not. Like, if you were telling me that you have feelings for me, it wouldn’t change anything for me. You’ll still be my best friend.”

Suddenly, doubt was filling up his heart. Has he been mistaken by your behavior and his friends' comments about the two of you ? What made him so sure that you loved him like he loved you ? But now that he was there, he should finish what he started, right ? Jeonghan took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cup of tea, too shy to meet yours.

“- And if I tell you that this friend is me… Would you reconsider the best friend title ?”

The silence that answered his question encouraged him to lift his head from the contemplation of his drink, meeting your wide eyes already staring at him, making him giggle. You finally snapped out of it, a soft smile stretching out your lips as you reached for his hand over the counter of your kitchen, interlocking your fingers. Jeonghan hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat going crazy at the simple and sweet gesture.

“- It depends… If I get to call you my boyfriend, then yes.”

“you can call me whatever you want as long as i’m yours.”

HONG JOSHUA - SECRET

truly a gentleman like he’s holding the door for you, opens your water bottle for you, always asks if you need help when he has free time.

as seventeen makeup artist, you followed them on tour and on almost every event, being one of the seniors of your team.

and joshua always asked you to do his makeup.

you assumed it was because he had known you for a long time and was more comfortable around you than another younger makeup artist.

but as time passed, he started to throw little compliments between asking about your day and what you had for lunch.

he looooves the way you blush every time he tells you that you’re pretty. h

e’s so sweet too, always has one or two snacks ready when you come to do his makeup because he knows about your habit of skipping meals because of work.

he would inevitably end up giving you his personal number, and you would talk all day, coming to know each other more and little by little, you fell in love with each other.

but for the sake of both your jobs, it had to stay a secret, until one particular day.

“- Where’s Y/N ?

- Ah ! They had to replace someone that called in sick today. I’m sorry, I know you like her to do your makeup.”

Joshua shook his head, encouraging your coworker to go on and carrying a little conversation with her. But she could tell that he was out of it. He was thinking about you. About how he became so used to your presence by his side everyday. How not having you close to him, talking to him, touching his face had him feeling empty, as if something was missing. Well, you were missing. And he didn’t realize until now how much he was relying on you.

Of course, he knew how dangerous it was for his career to date you, how risky it was regarding your job too, but he couldn’t help being drawn to you everytime, and neither could you, like magnets attracting each other. He stayed professional on stage though, delivering his performance as perfectly as usual, but his members could tell that something was bothering him, and every one of them knew the reason very well : you.

“- Hey Y/N.

- Joshua ? What are you doing here ?”

He didn’t answer right away, gesturing for you to follow him to an empty dressing room. You couldn’t help throwing glances all around you, making sure that no one was witnessing this. But you trusted Joshua : he would never put you or him in danger voluntarily.

“- I have to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I believe you feel the same about it but I need to tell you regardless.”

His gaze was so soft, so loving, you couldn’t ignore anymore how he made your heart swell. You had noticed that your feelings were mutual, but you also knew that you couldn’t be together.

“- You know we can’t… I don’t want to hold you back, I don’t want you to take such risks for me. You worked too hard for your dream to give it up just for me.”

Joshua could see your eyes filling up with tears, and he stepped forward, cupping your face in his hands in hopes it would comfort you. All he wanted was to take care of you, not to make you cry.

“- It’s gonna be complicated, yes, but I don’t want to give up on either my career or you. You’re so dear to me, I think you don’t realize how much you mean to me, how right it feels to be appreciated for who I really am. Maybe… Maybe we can at least try. I love you so much Y/N.”

And how could you say no to that ? To his lovestruck gaze focused on you, only you ? How could you reject him when he’s all you can think about everyday ? You stepped forward to hug him, relaxing in his hold and warmth as Joshua let out an audible sigh of relief too.

“- I love you too, I love you so much…”

“you’ll be my secret, this way I can keep you all to myself.”

LEE JIHOON - IMPOSSIBLE

i think that he would be a little cold with you at first, out of shyness and because he’s an introvert.

but you always made sure to include him In your conversations with the other members, and to talk to him even if he didn’t answer more than two words.

little by little, he started to open up, to feel really comfortable around you.

maybe it was because of the way you always focused only on him whenever he was talking, or because you were always interested in whatever he was doing.

would want you to listen to every song he produces before everyone else because he values your opinion so much.

he didn’t exactly know but he felt something so soothing when he spent time with you.

so when mingyu told him that you had a boyfriend, he was disappointed – and even more so when he finally met him and saw how badly he treated you.

jihoon would go on and on about how shitty your partner was, advising you to leave him, not only because of his selfish reasons, but mainly because he felt like the boy didn’t deserve you.

you would come to his studio after every fight, and he couldn’t do anything else than watching you cry your eyes out.

“- I’m sorry, I’m always here bothering you…

- You’re never bothering me Y/N, if you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to smile, but that only forced another tear to roll down your already soaked cheeks. As if he knew better than yourself what you needed, Jihoon opened his arms and you gladly accepted his hug, basking in his warm embrace.

“- What did he do this time ?”

Jihoon knew that his tone was accusative. But at this point, he couldn’t care anymore, he couldn’t bear to see you cry every other day because of an asshole who didn’t realize how lucky he was. And he could only assume that he did something bad, because all you’ve ever tried to do was make him happy.

“- He just.. Forgot our date, again… I’m so tired of this Jihoon, I’m doing my best for this relationship to work but he doesn’t even try…”

Your voice was muffled by his hoodie, your face still buried in his chest as you talked, but your words still broke his heart. He was tired too. Tired of seeing you cry, tired of seeing you wasting your time for someone who didn’t care about you, tired of seeing you think that you were not enough.

“- You already know what I think about this but… You should really leave him. You deserve to be loved, really loved. And he’s not loving you right.”

Slowly, you lifted your head from his chest, your teary eyes glaring confusingly at him.

“- But who would love me right ?

- Me. I would. I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

Jihoon lifted a hand, fingers brushing delicately against your cheek. He knew he could be good for you, knew that he could treat you well if only you let him, if only you let him one chance to prove it, he’ll do anything to make you happy. And you knew he would, knew that you would fit perfectly in his arms. But was it reasonable ? You had been with your partner for two years. Two years and still, what you felt for him never came close to what you felt for Jihoon, to how he made you shiver every time he touched you, to how he made butterflies come alive in your stomach every time he looked at you.

“- I think you could…”

And even if both of you still needed to figure some things out, you knew that you finally made the right choice. You were finally where you belonged to.

“i’m going to make up for all the times he couldn’t be by your side.”

LEE SEOKMIN - FLOWERY

sweet and funny.

i feel like he would treat you like his partner even if you’re not, maybe to hint at you that he has feelings but i mostly think it’s just because he cares so much about you.

he’ll do things like giving you his clothes when you’re cold, or feeding you when you want a taste of what he’s eating.

basically, it’s almost like you’re already together because he’s also very touchy and clingy.

he’ll hug you as a greeting every time, and he always has his arm around your shoulders when you’re sitting next to each other.

tbh, he would start to question your feelings at one point because was he not making it obvious enough that he had a big crush on you ???

but at the same time, he’s afraid that you mistake that for just a very close friendship so he doesn’t want to ask you straight away either.

so he would try to make something a little more sneaky by delivering a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your place, with a card only saying “i love you”.

“- Maybe they’re from Soobin ?”

You and your friend start laughing, but Seokmin, who witnessed the whole conversation, was not. Did you really think that these flowers were from someone else ? He clearly remembered the day you told him what your favorite flowers were, and that you also told him he was the only one to know that. So why would you lie to him ? Or tell it to anybody else ? Maybe it was nothing, but his heart felt heavy as he got back to his video game with Wonwoo.

You obviously noticed how Seokmin was very distant the whole day. It was supposed to be a fun afternoon with most of your friends, but you ended up being more worried about what was going on with him. Did you do or say something to upset him ? Did you hurt him in any way without being aware ? You couldn’t recall anything that could explain why he was so cold with you.

“- Hey Seokmin…”

The boy turned around when you joined him outside, and he couldn’t avoid you, nor the conversation that would follow this time. He knew that he was being childish, knew that he should have maybe just told you how he felt instead of being upset over you for something you were not responsible for.

“- Hi Y/N…

- You’ve been kind of avoiding me… Did I do something ? I just want to understand what happened so I can fix it.”

Seokmin closed his eyes and sighed, a pained expression on his face. He was dumb, he was so dumb. He wanted to make you feel loved, not like you did something wrong when it was him who was being sulky over nothing.

“- Fuck, no… You didn’t do anything, I promise. I’m just a coward.”

You looked at him, confused as you cocked your head to the side and Seokmin turned around to face you, trying to hold your gaze even if he could feel his cheeks start to burn from how ridiculous he felt.

“- The flowers… They are from me. And I heard you say that you think they were from Soobin instead and I… I don’t know why but it hurt because you said that you only told me which one were your favorites. And it made me feel so special, I wanted it to stay our thing.”

You stepped in, until you could hold his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. The atmosphere had switched to a much lighter one as you smiled at him, finding him very cute as he tried to look composed but was really not, with his red face.

“- I was joking, I knew they were from you, they could only be from you. And yes, it is our thing, because I want to share this kind of thing only with you. You’re special to me, and I wanted to thank you for your gift but you didn’t let me.”

Seokmin shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity. But all that mattered to him was how it turned out in the end.

“next time i’m offering you flowers, it’s to celebrate our first date.”

BOO SEUNGKWAN - BRAVE

needless to say that he is a drama queen, always has something to bitch and vent about.

but obviously, you’re the same - that’s why you get along so well - so you’re always here to listen to all his gossip, and vice-versa.

i think that both of you would also hold a grudge about something ridiculous the other did years ago but that you still bring up during every argument (thinking about me and my best friend fighting over a piece of salad and a potato since middle school)

overall, it’s very entertaining to spend time with him because he’s so sassy… that’s hilarious.

since you gossip a lot, you know almost everything about each other's lives, you have literally no boundaries.

and you also love to sit down after a tiring week, with a show you both love as a background noise while you talk about what happened.

a very comfortable relationship, based on trust and really open-minded.

that’s why you’re not afraid to talk to him about your love life even if seungkwan always seemed to push back on the subject (understandable when he had a crush on you for years).

“- So you’re going to meet with him again ?

- Yeah, I think so… He’s not really my type usually, but he’s not that bad, and he’s kind so maybe I should give him a chance.”

Seungkwan scoffed, looking away from your face and focusing on the tv instead. He didn’t want to hear another one of your failed dates with guys that didn’t deserve you. He never understood why you did that, not when he was right there.

“- Why do you always react like that ? Do you not want me to find the love of my life ?

- It’s not where you will find it.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, but you felt a weight on your heart as he rolled his eyes. Seungkwan was never really interested whenever you talked about your current love life. However, he loved to bitch about your exes, but everytime you mentioned a new guy you were expecting to go out with, he seemed almost annoyed. You never understood why, because he loved drama so much, and your dating life was the best source of drama. But for some obscure reason, he stayed silent.

“- I just don’t want to be alone.

- We’re always together, you’re not alone.

- I know but… I want to come home and have someone waiting for me and hugging me. And I want to fall asleep in somebody else's arms. And I want to feel loved at the end of the day.”

Your gaze was focused on the show playing on the screen, while Seungkwan was watching you, noticing how your facial expressions had changed. He knew you weren’t joking anymore, and maybe it was time for him to stop being silly too.

“- I could do all that. You’ll never be alone if you were with me.”

When you looked at Seungkwan again, he was already staring at you, more serious than he had ever been. A smile blossomed on your face, because all you ever wanted was to be his.

“- Does that mean you're willing to offer yourself in sacrifice and be my boyfriend ?”

“if that means spending every day of my life by your side, then yes, i'll do it gladly.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

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norrizzandpia · 7 months

Note

i love your story’s but the way you write oscar and lando are amazing!!!!

okk so i have an idea where the reader is a f1 driver and is a rookie this year as well and her and oscar and have been teammates since karting they ended up going to boarding a school together as well so they are best friends but oscar’s always been in LOVE with her and she just always thought he thought of her as a sister so she never showed any romantic feelings but maybe everyone on the grid thought they were dating and they are at club or party after race and the reader is being flirted with a stranger and the grid notices thinking the two were together telling oscar who denies they are together but still goes over their and drags her out of the part and he gets jealous and admits his feelings maybe angrily admits them and the reader smiled and kissed him

lowkey could see the reader as a landos little sister if you wanted to add more of a story or drama :)

This was so fun to write 🤭 i hope y’all like it

Loving You in the Shadows (OP81)

Summary: They’ve been together for years. Well, they haven’t been together for years. Yet.

Warnings: language, angst, happy ending tho, lots of yearning and longing, sad Oscar

Note: hehehe have fun everyone!!!! Btw shes a long one so buckle up

Lando’s little sister was the first thing he and Oscar bonded over. Throughout the years, he had heard of the friend Y/n had made through karting and school. He was quite elated to hear she was having so much fun with this boy, silencing his worries over the Australian’s intentions. They had met a few times before Oscar officially became his teammate with Oscar having come over to the house multiple times during holidays. Nonetheless, when they were introduced as teammates, Lando took to truly getting to know Oscar.

Surprisingly, getting to know Oscar proved to be easy as all the Australian wanted to talk about was Lando’s little sister.

That was the first time Lando truly ever had an inkling Oscar felt more for Lando’s little sister than he let on. The nagging feeling was forced to the forefront of his brain when Oscar won his first podium and the first person he went to find in the crowd was the girl who had placed P5, his “best friend”. Watching them hug and Y/n shouting out how proud she was of him, Lando clocked the unfamiliar glint in Oscar’s eyes as he stared down at her. It was unlike anything he had ever seen and that image plagued his mind at all times of the day.

He pushed to know more about them, his sister having been decently private about their friendship to everyone. He would slip in small questions about their previous times together every once in a while, amassing information over time.

He learned just how close they grew when they lived one building from each other in school, Oscar making it a regular routine to spend most days over at her dorm as they did homework together. He began to observe her face as she reminisced on that part of their life together. A lazy, adoring smile on her face as she detailed the moment where Oscar had snuck out of his dorm to show up at hers and demand help on his English essay. She would laugh and shake her head as if she was right back there, experiencing the moment again.

Suddenly, he was getting whiplash, realizing his sister was wholly in love with his teammate.

Their interactions became clearer to him even though they were, on the surface, completely platonic. The way her hands would stay glued to her sides, physically trying to restrain herself from reaching out for him; the way he would hug her and hold on a millisecond too long, just enough to breathe her in the way he desperately wanted to, but not enough for it to raise eyebrows.

That was when he understood they were both in love with each oth- “Mate?”

Oscar’s voice filled his thoughts, shutting off the episode he was watching in his head.

Shaking his head, Lando looked up at his teammate standing over him, “What’s up?”

Oscar’s eyebrows pulled together, “The team’s been calling you for ages. They’re ready for us.”

Lando’s mouth formed an “o” shape, nodding vigorously as he checked his phone to see all the missed calls and texts.

“I know you’re usually late, but you seemed kind of far away when I found you. You okay?” Oscar asked, head turned to him as they began walking toward the film equipment.

Lando feigned innocence, “Mmm, yeah? I’m fine.”

Oscar shook his head, “If you say so.”

Their conversation ended there as they reached the woman interviewing them for a Sky Sports segment. The two sat in their chairs, looking expectantly at the presenter with the flashcards in her hands.

The red light glowed bright, a sign for them to reel themselves in and slide into their PR trained skins, “Hi, everyone! Welcome back to another Sky Sports interview. Today we welcome some of the most talked about drivers on the grid as of right now, Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris! Hi, boys!”

They nodded simultaneously, smiles prevalent on their faces. Their time with the woman was limited, so she flew into questions quickly. Gradually, they transitioned from topics such as their car and the expectations they hold for the rest of the season to more personal ones such as Y/n.

“So, you both have a pretty close relationship with another driver on the grid, Y/n Norris. Of course, Lando, she’s your sister and Oscar, your best friend. Has that proved to be difficult? Having to share that time with her on top of how busy all your schedules are?” The woman smiled, leaning her elbow on her knee as she searched for the “real answers” behind their eyes.

Lando coughed to cover up his scoff, slightly annoyed by such an insinuation. His little sister never had a problem with priorities and self-discipline. The three all understood that F1 took a pretty heavy emphasis on her schedule, but they also saw how much effort she put in to keep their relationships growing. They never had to “share” her because she was already balanced enough to see everyone.

By the time Lando calmed his annoyance and protectiveness, Oscar had taken the question.

“No, not at all. Having to share her has never and will never be a thing. She’s an incredibly smart person who is capable of managing her time and managing it well. She has proved time and time again that, even when F1 gets crazy, we still hold a place in her schedule. To think that Lando and I essentially fight for her attention is weird and completely untrue.”

The woman is taken aback by his firm answer, however Lando can see the wheels turn in her head as she calculates her next words, “You seem very close with her, Oscar.”

It’s as if he doesn’t understand her inference, his smile brightening as he speaks, “Yeah! Y/n and I have been friends for years. She and I made some great memories together during our karting days and especially our boarding school days.”

Again, he doesn’t seem to notice the way in which his words have communicated, the presenter’s eyes bulging as she smiles tightly, “Oh?”

“Yeah!” Lando’s shoulders sink as he watches his teammate get taken advantage of by the press, knowing everyone will be misconstruing and manipulating his words. His green eyes glaze over as the feelings of hopelessness overtake him. He wishes to protect his little sister’s oasis with Oscar as much as he can, yet he fails in this instance.

Nevertheless, the interview concludes and the two boys are sent on their way, chatting freely again.

It’s by pure coincidence that they run into Y/n, the girl running around the paddock manically. She runs straight into Oscar’s chest as they round a corner, his arms immediately wrapping around her at the movement. When it dawns on the two of them who have just interrupted their conversation, identical smiles fall on their faces. Smiles which hold two very different forms of love.

“Y/n!” Oscar says cheerfully, falling into their forced hug comfortably.

Lando murmurs a quick hello, going into observation mode as if it’s second nature. What his eyes catch this time is the same thing they always have: lovesick grins and barely there touches.

He nods along with whatever his sister spouts off, his mind elsewhere. Although, when he sees Oscar’s face fall at her information and his body flying around, running in the direction they just came from, he realizes it’s probably best to tune in.

“What’s going on?” He asks, concerned, whilst grabbing his sister’s arm and forcing her to stay long enough to clue him in.

Her chuckling makes the tension in his shoulders ease, “Oh, it’s just I lost that McLaren sweatshirt Oscar gave me with his number on it last year. I know it’s in the paddock somewhere because I showed up wearing it, but I can’t remember where I put it.”

Lando’s face scrunches, “Why do you have merch from another team? And why are you wearing it to a race where you’re working for another team?”

Her innocent smile equates to his heart crushing, her naivety getting the best of her, “Because Oscar got it for me and I want to support him. He’d do the same for me.”

He nods, not wanting to bring up the topic of Oscar having feelings for her again after they’d had it so many times before. All he does is scoff obnoxiously as she runs off after Oscar, yelling, “When are you going to wear one of my sweatshirts?!”

Her gleaming face catches his eyes, “Never! That’s what sisters are for!”

He laughs to himself, “That doesn’t make any sense!”

But, she’s too far to hear him and, in the distance, he sees her reach Oscar, her body crashing into his as she hugs him from the side. His arms coming around to squeeze her impossibly close, Lando wonders if they’ll ever realize what’s left unsaid.

—

Dinner with the grid is always chaotic and tonight is no different. Every single driver in the 2023 season sits in a chair in the corner of a luxurious restaurant, a table so loud people have purposefully moved away. Their laughs echo off the walls and different conversations taking place from every part of the table announce their presence unlike anything else.

“Lando, I’ve always wondered how you felt when Oscar and Y/n told you they were together?” Charles’ giddy voice floats across the party, everyone clueing in to Lando’s answer whilst simultaneously keeping their chatter going.

It’s only when Oscar and Y/n deny their being together that the group falls incredibly silent.

“What?” Daniel asks in disbelief, eyes bulged and mouth agape as he stares at the two.

Lando shakes his head, not surprised in the least that his friends and coworkers believed in something so obvious.

“We aren’t together?” Y/n repeats, Oscar’s face heating up as he sinks slightly into his chair beside her.

Esteban slams his hands on the table as he gasps, slightly drunk, “Yes, you are!”

It’s when his sister stutters, at a loss for words, that Lando steps in, “They aren’t together, guys.”

Every driver aside from the two McLaren drivers and the one female driver sits frozen in their seats, minds reeling from the revelation.

“But,” Alex begins, “what about Y/n wearing Oscar’s number?” His eyes meet each driver, still stunned.

Y/n laughs, “It’s a joke!”

Lando sees the way Oscar’s eyes slowly trail up to stare at the side of her face. They’re drowning in sorrow and longing, the first time Lando’s ever seen him so openly yearn for her. It’s sobering, the turmoil Lando witnesses pass through his friend. He’s so inclined to stand up and yell at them for being so stupid all these years, but he’s so blatantly aware of the fact that they’ll never admit it until they’re absolutely pushed to their breaking point.

While Oscar seems to be reaching it, Lando knows him too well to understand that he’ll go farther, so determined to keep her in his life. The thought makes him down the rest of his beer, wishing greatly for something stronger.

The universe compliments his idea when the waiter comes by and drops the different checks.

“Let’s get to this club, yeah?” He yelps, everyone seemingly dropping the topic of Oscar and Y/n at the notion.

Whoops and hollers meet his ears as everyone throws down their credit cards, the excitement a deep contrast to the sunken face of his teammate.

—

“I’m going to go get another drink!” Y/n yells over the loud music, her words directed mostly toward her brother and best friend although the entire table picks up on it. If anything, Lando’s beat when it comes to the amount of protection held toward his sister. With her being the only woman on the grid, each driver took up a special kind of defensiveness when it came to her. Her age contributed to it greatly, her being slightly younger than Oscar and making her the youngest on the grid. They’re all careful with her, something Lando’s grateful for as time and time before have proven that when he’s not looking out for her, someone else is.

The group nods, Y/n smiling and chuckling at their synchronization and attentiveness to her whereabouts. Their eyes linger on her, making sure she makes it safely to the bar, but it’s fleeting once they become engrossed in their conversation again. Oscar’s gaze stays with her, something everyone else notices.

Max is the first one to call him out on the elephant in the room, “How are you guys not together?”

Oscar seems to think the champion is talking to something else, his entire face turned to the side as he watches the bartender not-so-discreetly look down her top.

Lando hits him on the arm and it’s enough to bring him back from the angry thoughts warring on in his mind, “Sorry, what?”

George presses just as Max is about to, “How are you two not together?”

Oscar shakes his head, “It’s never come up.”

Lando involuntarily lets out a noise of disagreement, all drivers turning to him. He gives Oscar a side glance, “Come on, mate. That’s not true.”

Immediately, Oscar gets defensive. His arms come up frustratedly as he scoffs, “It hasn’t!”

Carlos laughs slightly, “Hasn’t or you haven’t worked up the confidence to initiate it?”

Oscar groans, sitting back in the booth, and speaking quickly, “I don’t know what to tell you all here. We’ve been friends for years and the feelings I have for her mean shit. They always have and they always will. It’s not worth destroying the bond I already have with her trying to get a new one.”

Lewis’ response is instantaneous, “You sure?”

His comment would’ve gone ignored if his eyes hadn’t been looking off curiously into the party. Pairs of eyes follow his and Oscar’s heart drops at the sight they all collectively come to meet.

A random man lays a hand on Y/n’s waist as they lean on the bar beside them. She laughs at something he says and lays a hand on his bicep before utilizing the fact that he’s taller than her and giving him a look that would have any man falling to their knees. The drivers, except Oscar, tear their gaze away, giving each other minor glances that say way more than words could.

Even with all the noise around them, it’s quiet in their corner as they stare at Oscar, trying to anticipate his next move. Lando thinks he’s about to get about and dart over, claiming what’s always been his, but, at the last moment, the Australian whips his head back around and takes a sip of his drink, acting nonchalantly.

The group sighs, all giving up and going back to their side conversations. Oscar’s the only one to sit with himself, quietly, and Lando knows it’s because he’s trying so hard to restrain the last bit of self-control. He can practically see the battle going on within the walls of his head, recognizing that kind of self-doubt and sympathizing.

At some point, Oscar loses the battle he’s been fighting for years and abruptly stands from the table, jostling glasses as he runs through the crowd.

The rest of them nod, satisfied, and turn their heads away, feeling as if they need to give the two privacy for a moment that could either go perfectly right or horribly wrong.

When he reaches her, the flirting has gotten worse. Hands linger in places he’s wanted to touch for years and eyes stare at the lips he’s wanted to kiss for, what feels like, his entire life.

He sidles up to her as if he’s done it for so long, “Babe, what’s taking you so long?”

Her eyes meet his when she feels his hands circle around her waist, Oscar’s hands having pushed the other man’s away once he got there.

She gives him a quizzical look at the pet name before beginning, “Osc, what’s u-”

He extends his arm, interrupting her and setting his eyes on the stranger he loathes, “I’m Oscar. Y/n’s boyfriend.”

He can see out of his peripheral how her face contorts in mass amounts of confusion, “Wha-” She tries again, but it’s the other man that stops her this time.

“Boyfriend? Oh, my bad, mate, I didn’t know.” The guy says, truly remorseful for his “mistake” and it hits Oscar right in the chest. This man seems genuine and nice, everything Y/n deserves, yet he cannot physically bring himself to let anyone else know what she tastes like, feels like, loves like.

Even though he hasn’t experienced any of those things, he’s determined to.

—

The car ride is quiet as Oscar drives the two of them back to the hotel they’re staying at. After he pulled her away from the man, she had shut him out for the rest of the night, gluing herself to Lando. Her brother must have caught on because when it came to him driving her home, he bailed and forced her to get in Oscar’s car.

There was no further discussion, he shut her up with “I’m your big brother. You’re going to follow what I say.”

To say she was annoyed would be the biggest understatement of the year. She was close to fuming.

Oscar didn’t push her, not wanting to add fuel to the fire when he started it, so they sat in silence.

Uncomfortable silence. Something they had never experienced together.

When he pulled into the parking space in the structure, she flew out and slammed the door behind her.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He concurred, eyes blurring as he stared at her retreating frame.

She stopped, turning around and staring at him from her side of the garage.

“Why?” She asked aggressively.

“Why what?” He asked back, standing by the trunk of his car.

She exhaled a loud breath and walked closer to him, “Why’d you interrupt me with that guy? Why’d you say you were my boyfriend?”

Suddenly, his confidence from earlier was fading and he began to retreat back to the safe excuses, “You looked uncomfortable.”

He walked away from her, keys clinking against the cards of his wallet before the sound of her rapid footsteps replaced it. Her small hand wrapped forcefully around his arm and turned him around.

What he found was a red Y/n, exhausted with anger, “I fucking wasn’t!”

He shrugged, acting indifferent, something he didn’t know hurt Y/n deeply, “Oh, sorry.”

He tried to turn around again, run away from her and this situation, but her hands pulled him back once more.

“Jesus, Y/n! Can you let me go to bed?” He exclaimed, annoyance with himself rather than annoyance with her. Though, she didn’t know that. The two were in the same situation yet so far apart: both in love with each other, but too engrossed in their own fears and insecurities to realize the pleading in the other’s eyes was the same swimming in theirs.

“No!” She yelled, hands flinging out by her sides, “Tell me why you said you were my boyfriend, Oscar!”

She was determined now, not deterred by his disagreeance, “Fuck, no, Y/n! It’s fucking nothing! Leave it alone!”

Her hands on his shoulders, she began shaking him lightly, “Why, Oscar?!”

Their yelling was bouncing off the concrete walls of the building. If anyone else was in it, they would be able to hear their long overdue argument clearly.

His mind closed in on itself, going haywire at the feelings of panic. He wasn’t ready to lose her, wasn’t ready to blurt out his feelings and have his whole world come crashing down around him. The friends held different determinations, the topics of which should have pushed them closer together, but continued to push them apart.

His eyes darted around as she yelled again, “Oscar! Why?!”

It was frantic and quick, his response, “YOU KNOW WHY!”

His loud yell had her coming back with the same amount of volume, both testing just how echoey the walls around them could be.

“NO, I FUCKING DON’T! I NEVER HAVE! WHY DID YOU DO THAT TONIGHT?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU! FUCK, I’M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU AND IT’S EATEN ME ALIVE THIS WHOLE TIME! I’M SO FUCKING SICK OF LOVING YOU FROM THE SIDELINES AND WATCHING EVERY OTHER GUY BE LOVED BY YOU, SOMETHING THEY DON’T EVEN DESERVE, BY THE WAY! HELL, I DON’T EVEN FUCKING DESERVE IT, BUT I’M TOO IN LOVE WITH YOU TO THINK THAT WAY. I FUCKING LOVE YOU, Y/N.” He stopped to catch his breath, volume retreating back to a quiet whisper as he looked down at her, “I fucking love you.”

She stared back at him, hands still on his shoulders, with a shaking frame. Her mind lost all power as she smiled at him, immediately moving her hands closer to his neck and bringing his lips down to hers.

What he thought would be a rejection turned out to be something he had thought about for an ungodly amount of time. Her plush, soft lips met his in a tender way, slowly melding together.

There were only a few times in Oscar’s life where he became so overwhelmed with emotion, he broke out of his unbothered persona and showed the outside world the intense feelings he was experiencing.

This was one of those times.

He grabbed her waist as if it grounded him in such a heavy moment. They stood, huddled together, in the middle of the parking lot kissing each other with such certainty that it reaffirmed the inferences made by everyone else.

Their friends, families, co-workers were all right. Everyone was right.

That revelation sat in Oscar’s chest as he tangled his other hand in her hair and pushed her lips further into him. He had wasted so much time engrossed in his feelings for her, he had failed to see hers.

From the nights she spent staying up late because he wasn’t prepared for whatever test they had the next day to the times she would solely come over to his house to cook food because he hadn’t eaten anything for dinner and didn’t know how to cook it himself now held a different light. A light that was no longer shunned by the longing he had been distracted with. A light that exemplified her kind, loving demeanor, something so comforting it couldn’t ever possibly pass as platonic. A light that slapped him so hard across the face, woke him up so harshly, he found himself thinking back to all their times together and realizing that while he was yearning for her love, she was yearning all the same.

When they pulled away and he was met with her grin, the grin she had given multiple times before, his brain recognized how adoring it was.

Always adoring him, always loving him, right in front of him.

He sighed softly, “You love me.”

He stated it in disbelief, but she confirmed when she nodded softly, “Yes, I do.”

He kissed her softly again, “I’m sorry for how long it took me to realize.”

She shook her head, “It’s my fault all the same, Osc.”

He laughed and moved to pull her into him, hugging her. Their hug, however, felt different. Now, he could let his hands linger and wander freely. Now, she could breathe in his scent openly, committing it to memory.

Now, they could love each other in the way they wanted to.

Still, lonesome in the parking lot, he pulled away and smiled at her, “The one thing I’m not sorry for, though, is pulling you away from that guy.”

She laughed, a sound he could now outwardly call his favorite sound, “Me too, Osc. Me too.”

A/N: hope you liked it (and cried) 😚 also lmk if y’all want a pt 2 to this where Oscar and yn go public to Lando, the grid and the public and everyone’s like “ok… we knew it was going to happen anyway 🤨” bc i think that could be funny

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