#I think I’ve alluded to him before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

disneyprincemuke · 5 months

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count on us * fem!driver

she often forgets that she’s got a support system she can ask for help from

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: stalking, mentions of violence, cursing

notes: i think it's so funny how i took so long to write this that i'm only writing a note like 5 minutes after posting this LMFAO

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

sebastian looks up from his phone, the noticeable lack of a woman’s voice finally sinking in. now that he thinks about it, it’s been suspiciously too long for his driver to be missing.

he raises an eyebrow as he scans the garage for the familiar face, but alludes to nothing.

he presses his lips together, silently exiting the garage to find himself in the paddocks. sending her a quick text to ask her where she is, he puts the phone into his back pocket as he makes it a mission to find the small girl.

in the crowd of people who are heads taller than her, it’s deem an almost impossible mission.

“hey, seb,” max greets him with a nod and a smile, almost passing him nonchalantly.

until sebastian reaches out to stop him. “have you seen (y/n)?”

“i have not,” max frowns. “is something wrong?”

“yeah,” sebastian turns in a circle where he is, gesturing to the empty space by him, “my shadow is missing.”

max raises his eyebrows. “that’s true. she’s usually always around you.”

“if you see her, can you give me a call?” sebastian asks. max gives him a nod before bidding him a goodbye.

he spends the better part of the next twenty minutes trying to spot her, walking the paddocks twice for good measure. yet she is nowhere to be found.

he’s asked four more different drivers if they’ve chanced upon her presence, yet there is nobody that’s seen her.

not logan, and not even oscar. which is odd.

not even a response from you. so, he goes to the one place he hasn’t tried: her driver’s room. she doesn’t frequent staying in too long on media day, claiming that she’s trying to get used to the environment of formula 1.

which, is actually working. there are times she’s able to roam the paddocks and go to interviews by herself. but half the time, sebastian or someone else does an interview with her as a calming tactic.

he knocks on her door once and goes without an answer. he knocks another time before he hears shuffling from the other side of the door.

the door squeaks open, the shorter woman peeking through the small opening she’s allowed. “yeah?”

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere. why aren’t you texting me back?” sebastian asks, looking the door up and down. “and why won’t you open the door all the way?”

“just wasn’t feeling well,” she says softly with a sigh. her head is dropped low, as if to avoid any forms of eye contact. “my room is a mess.”

“you’re not well? why didn’t you tell me?” sebastian questions with the raise of his eyebrow. “can you let me in? let’s talk in private.”

she presses her lips together, as if considering her options. ultimately, she shakes her head. “we can talk here.”

“kid, you’re being very weird. i’m concerned and-“ he pauses, dropping his head slightly to meet her puffy eyes. “have you been crying?”

she tilts her head away from him and lets her hair drop to the side of her face. “none of your business, seb.”

sebastian sighs, leaning on the door frame. “if something is wrong, you can talk to me, you know? i won’t tell anybody.”

“just the hormones,” she croaks, still avoiding his eyes. “i’ll come out in a while for my interviews. i just need a while.”

he hums. “okay. i’ll be in the garage waiting for you, okay? text me when you’re coming out.”

“okay.” and then she closes the door on him.

oscar steps right by the garage’s entrance, careful not to cross the line that would consider him inside. “seb.”

sebastian pops up from behind the car. “oscar! what’s up?”

“(y/n) hasn’t been picking up my calls,” he admits with a sigh. “i’ve been trying to get a hold of her since we arrived on tuesday. have you got any idea where she is?”

“what?” sebastian glances at his watch. “she should’ve been out of her room by now. hasn’t she got an interview with you and logan?”

“that’s why i’m looking for her,” oscar frowns. “i had to ask lando to go first and cover for us. logan and i have been texting her but she never answers.”

“she’s been acting weird all day,” sebastian voices out in concern. “i swear she looked like she was crying when i dropped by her driver’s room earlier.”

“crying? that doesn’t happen often,” oscar mutters. “has she told you what’s bothering her?”

“she just shut the door on me and said she’d be out in a while,” sebastian shrugs. “what do you think is wrong with her?”

“i’m okay,” a small voice comes from behind sebastian. the two men turn their attention to her with puzzled expressions on their faces. “what?”

“no shorts for you today, mate?” oscar asks, eyeing her up and down. “it’s not that cold out today. why the sweatpants and jacket?”

“repping your team today, aye?” sebastian teases, reaching out to nudge her shoulder. “getting into the racing spirit, i see.”

“these were the only clean clothes i had in my bag,” she sighs, rubbing her eye. “i woke up late and i didn’t pack my bag last night. this was all i had in my driver’s room.”

“you could’ve asked me for a shirt,” sebastian shrugs. “you don’t have to get all warm in a jacket.”

“i’m alright, thank you,” she smiles politely. she grins at oscar. “we’re late for the interview, right? let’s go?”

oscar nods, watching in disbelief as she walks past him to get ahead. “yeah,” he says under his breath. exchanging a worried glance with sebastian, he quickly jogs to catch up with her. “hey, wait for me.”

“thank you so much for your time, and good luck for the weekend,” the interviewer smiles.

the three rookies mutter a mix of thank you’s. notably, the girl sat between the two boys stands up with her hands in her pockets.

“hey, are you on mute today? what’s got you so quiet?” logan calls out to the girl who’s already halfway out the door, slowly standing from his own seat.

“nothing, i’m just tired,” she answers monotonously, turning on her heel. “can you guys walk me back to my garage today? i know you haven’t in a while, and like, you don’t actually have to. i’m capable of walking the paddocks myself. but i thought it would be–“

oscar holds up his hands in front of her. “we’ll walk you back. no need to explain yourself.”

she huffs, dropping her head low again. “okay. thank you.”

logan raises his eyebrow. “you’re not fighting with me today?”

“just really tired,” she repeats, then putting the hood of her jacket over her head. “have you guys eaten? wanna go to the cafeteria with me and grab a bite?”

“i’ve got an interview panel in like 5 minutes,” oscar frowns, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “i’m sorry. maybe logan can go with you?”

“i’ve got to film some marketing stuff with alex for williams,” logan mirrors the frown on oscar’s face. “how about we go dinner right after? it’s my last commitment of the day.”

“oh, mine too.”

“then that’s okay. i’ll just eat in my hotel room.”

the disappointment that laces her voice is prominent enough for the two young boys to exchange a worried glance.

so, logan bends down with a warm smile. typically, his snide remarks and playful tone would have been enough to get a confession out of her. so he takes the route. “where’s the remote for your chatterbox function? i want it turned up.”

“maybe tomorrow, logan. i’m very tired,” she dismisses the american, eyes still trained on her feet as they walk.

“come on, seriously,” oscar grabs her shoulders, planting her on the spot while they surround her. “what’s wrong?”

“literally nothing,” she glances up, looking into their eyes briefly. she drops her head once more and walks around them to continue making her way down the pathway.

“you’ve got to tell us someday,” oscar mutters to logan, following behind her. “you eventually give us hints, you know.”

“i won’t,” she whips back quickly, “because nothing is wrong. i’m just feeling a little under the weather.”

“you’re not fighting with me, so i don’t know, dude,” logan whispers, eyes wide at her sudden change in behaviour. “not sure which version of you i like more. i miss your chaos.”

“stop worrying,” she huffs, coming to a stop in front of her racing home. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’m heading back to the hotel early.”

she doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns on her heel to walk towards her doors.

oscar reaches out quickly, pulling her back towards them. “i’m only letting you go if you promise to stop ignoring our texts in the groupchat.”

“yeah, it’s sad talking to myself,” logan frowns. “oscar’s not a great texter. and he doesn’t even watch my tiktoks.”

“yeah, i do! i just don’t answer.”

“really? what tiktok did i send last?”

“that one edit about that banana cat!”

“liar! (y/n) sent that like a week ago! oscar!”

“well, you send too many! i can’t possibly sit down and watch 20 tiktoks, logan!”

“this is not what we should be worried about right now!” logan says, turning to the girl staring up at them with doe eyes. “watch my tiktoks. seriously.”

she smiles, yet the sadness in her eyes is so unmissable. “okay, i promise. and i’ll text you when i’m back in my hotel room.”

“you better actually text us,” oscar scoffs with an eyeroll. “i know your room number. i will come up and tear your room apart if you don’t.”

“okay,” she laughs. “i will remember to text you.”

she sits quietly at the dinner table, phone buzzing the table off as she continues to gobble down her chicken wing. she stares at the table blankly as she chews consistently.

“are you not gonna pick up your phone?” max asks, putting his spoon and fork down on the plate.

the constant buzzing had been going on for almost 5 minutes, and at first, he wasn’t going to say anything. but isn’t 5 minutes too long to leave your phone unanswered if there is a possible pressing matter at hand?

“oh, i’m sorry. i hadn’t noticed,” she says softly, grabbing her phone. she glances at the screen and all the colours from her face visibly drains and she puts the phone down on her lap. “sorry.”

“it’s something wrong? why didn’t you pick up?” max asks, continuing his meal.

“just the family groupchat going off as always after my interviews for the day,” she laughs nervously, returning to her state of blank stares and eating her dinner. “i’ll answer them later.”

“isn’t dalton gonna nag your head off if you don’t answer now?” oscar chuckles.

they had managed to convince the girl to come out for dinner. but it’s only sparked up more concern between him and sebastian as she opted to be out in her team merch again.

that’s after she swore up and down that she wouldn’t be caught dead in them in normal circumstances where they’re not needed. which also raised max’s eyebrows when he walked into the restaurant and was shocked by the striking purple that made their table stand out amongst the rest.

“he can wait a while longer,” she shrugs.

max pouts his lips. “why are you in team merch, anyway?” he asks, reaching out to pull on the material of her jacket. “you made fun of me for like 4 days straight when you realised i wear red bull merch too often.”

“i have to say i kinda get where you’re coming from,” she answers calmly. “they’re very comfortable.”

“comf–“ max looks around the table in disbelief. “you said that even if they’re comfortable, they’re not very ‘going out’ outfits. what?”

she turns to look at him, bored. “i changed my mind. you’re actually right.”

max sinks into his seat. “what’s gone wrong with the world?”

yuki had been minding his own business, scrolling on instagram when he heard a familiar squeak by a quiet corner outside the paddock’s gantries.

“hey, leave me alone!” a hushed voice says, before he hears shoes thumping against the floor. “i’ll give you the stupid pass if you never bother me again.”

“c’mon. that wasn’t the only agreement we came to. you have to let me take you out on a date,” a deeper voice says.

“yeah, not a chance! you think stalking me for two races and sending me unsolicited pictures would help your chances?” he recognises that voice.

he peeks over the corner, eyebrows raising in shock when he sees the driver push the unnamed man away from her.

“and if you weren’t scared of what i have in here,” he lifts up his hand to show her something, “then you wouldn’t have answered my messages.”

there’s silence for a while, before she grunts. “fine, whatever. here’s your pass. leave me alone in the paddocks, seriously.”

yuki studies the man’s face, before scrambling to walk away from where he is. he hums, walking as fast as he can to the gantry without looking suspicious.

when she pops up next to him, chest heaving with a sweaty forehead, she smiles. “hi, yuki.”

so he smiles back. “hi.”

and then he makes a sharp left after entering the paddocks, on his way to find max. the driver had mentioned the girl acting suspicious and asking a favour of him and daniel to keep an eye on her.

he never actually expected to be the one who find out.

“i think i know what’s bothering her,” yuki says softly, pulling max away from gp with an apologetic smile. he’s thankful that the engineers had been working on the car. he doesn’t have to hush himself so much after all. “i saw her… right outside the paddocks just a while ago.”

“seriously? you didn’t fucking tell us someone was harassing you?”

she sighs, arms folded over her chest as she looks between the men towering over her. she sinks into the comfort of her beanbag chair, defeated by their efforts to find out what’s wrong.

“and we had to find out from yuki because he was fortunate enough to overhear your conversation outside the paddocks?” sebastian shouts. “what the hell! that’s so dangerous.”

“he has pictures from my cloud, seb! that means screenshots of our conversations and my private pictures! i can’t risk that getting out! i’m hated enough as it is!” she explains, trying to reason out before getting another scolding. “can you please see where i’m coming from here?”

“no, because meeting him all by yourself is absolutely fucking insane!” logan throws his hands in the air, trying to make her see how ridiculous the whole situation is. “dude, you could’ve been mauled! nobody even saw you leave the paddocks.”

“imagine what could’ve happened to you? what would we tell your parents?” max adds on, hands on his hips. “this was very reckless.”

“i-“

“and if he planned to physically hurt you, what were you planning on doing?” logan cuts her off, hands on his hips as he grows more frustrated. “did you actually have a plan or were you just winging it?”

“it’s not even that. the way you thought this was even a good idea is beyond me!” sebastian tugs at the roots of his hair. “you should have told somebody!”

tears start to fill her eyes, lips pouted out as they start to quiver. the harassment had started about two weeks ago during their previous race.

initially, she had marked out the instagram dm to be from a spam account. until they sent her a picture only she would be in possession of: her and logan at a beach club from when he was 20 and she was 18 in barcelona.

suddenly the messages and the threats didn’t stop. she couldn’t only think of the repercussions it would have on her career, but everybody else’s who is involved in her life.

her cloud includes a collection of screenshots from their most ludicrous conversations and night outs.

“hey, i was only doing that to protect everybody i know!” she shouts, tears starting to spill out of her eyes. “there’s pictures and screenshots i’m sure each and everyone of you would like out of the public eye! i’ve got a fucking video of you,” she points at max, “giving daniel a lap dance in zandvoort!”

she points at logan, “and you,” then oscar, “and you wrestling to push each other into the pool in your underwear from years back!”

she turns to sebastian. “and you drunkenly crying because you regret retiring from formula 1!” she pushes herself off the seat. “i didn’t know what else to do. i’m sorry, but i didn’t see it going any other way than me caving in to what he wanted me to do.”

“i don’t know, get a fucking lawyer and sue his ass?” max asks.

“yeah, i’ve not got the funds for that! thanks for noticing!” she screams at the older driver, stomping her feet into the ground. “god, i didn’t know what to do, okay?”

she looks at the man in the corner of her room, leaning against the wall staring at the ground blankly with his arms in the pockets of his shorts.

“well, you’re awfully quiet, aren’t you?” she points out. “nothing else to add on with everybody’s criticism of how i seem to have mishandled the situation?”

oscar looks up, meeting her eyes for a split second before looking away again. he presses his lips together. “it was reckless,” oscar says. he shrugs when she prompts him for a longer answer. “it’s done and it’s over. let’s figure out how to get him to bugger off, yes?”

“yes, but you have got to realise how wrong this could have gone so easily,” sebastian sighs, slightly calmer than he was a few seconds ago. “come on. be realistic.”

she frowns. “i didn’t know what to do, okay?”

max sighs, walking over to her. he lays his hand on the top of her head and pats it gently. “i’m sorry for shouting at you. i was just concerned. something bad could have really happened to you.”

“i know, but-“

“it’s okay,” max soothes her, pulling her into his arms for a hug. “you held a potential scandal off pretty well. but don’t do it like this again.”

“this is never going to work,” she mutters under her breath. after a wonderful qualifying session, she stands in her least favourite dress.

“it’ll work,” max mutters, “i’m max verstappen.”

“literally what’s that got to do with anything?” she scowls, extending her hand out to land a hit on his arm. “that name means nothing to this man!”

“you don’t know that. i’m a very powerful man,” max mutters dejectedly, hand pressed against his chest to feign hurt. “you’re not very nice.”

“shut up,” sebastian mutters, rolling his eyes at the two unlikely drivers to have gotten along very well. “we spent all qualifying session thinking of a way to get you out of this. be quiet.”

“fine,” she says softly, folding her arms. she takes a step back and sighs as logan takes her into his side for a comforting hug. “i didn’t know what else to do.”

“it’s okay,” logan whispers, rubbing her arm. “it’s over now. we’ll handle it for you.”

“i’m handling it for you,” sebastian mutters.

he straightens his shirt and stands a little taller as a figure comes down the dark alley of the paddocks.

“oh, you brought back up?” the man, who sebastian has come to know as ryan, grins. “big fan.”

“shut the fuck up,” max says, stepping forward when he stops in front of her.

“yeah, here’s how it’s gonna go,” sebastian says, pressing his palm into max’s chest to stop him. “you’re going to hand over that thumb drive or she sues you.”

he scoffs. “with what money? she’s only an underpaid rookie.”

“she’s got a whole grid of 21 other rich drivers ready to back this lawyer up,” sebastian says calmly. “don’t make it any harder for yourself. just hand it over before you get served.”

“i call bluff,” he shrugs simply. “you don’t want something like this out in the media.” he tilts his head to throw a teasing stare at the girl in logan’s arms. “especially not when it’s tied to her name.” he looks back at sebastian. “she wouldn’t let that happen to her.”

max clears his throat. “what if you just listen to us before we make this very difficult for you?”

“like how?”

“just trust me,” max smiles sweetly with a nod. “i can find ways to make life difficult for you.”

“what if i only leak pictures of her?” ryan grins, gesturing to the girl now throwing her head back in despair. “you’ve got good pictures, by the way. can’t wait to have you all to myself, you pretty little thing.”

“yeah, i’m done hearing this fucker out,” oscar mutters.

“oscar-“

logan is barely able to grab the australian’s arm before oscar has already lept forward to shove the man back.

“so i’ll make it difficult for you,” oscar smiles politely. his arm darts forward again, bunching up the material of ryan’s collar into his hands. he yanks him in. “i’m going to take that thumb drive out of your pockets myself, and then i’ll beat you with my own bare hands,” he points behind him, “while she watches.

“and then i’m going to get the best lawyer, find the judge, bribe them both and the jury combined,” oscar chuckles dryly, “put you in jail. and then i’m going to go in there and tear you limb from limb again.”

“ah, you’re too nice. you’d never.”

“say bet?”

“bet.”

“oscar, come on!” she shrieks, stumbling forward to yank him back. “you don’t beat people up! come on!”

“yeah, but i do!” max cheers, his hand darting out to shove the man back harder than oscar did. he stumbles a couple steps back and almost loses his balance, regaining it slowly. “i’ll finish what oscar started. come here.”

“hey, nobody’s beating this man up!” sebastian shouts, before quickly trying to lower his voice to avoid any unwanted attention. “listen, mate. i can make sure a court hearing goes by softly. benefits us, but gonna make you go broke. you decide.”

max lifts a finger into the air. “and don’t forget: i’m born petty. i already know where you work, so if you wanna keep that job…”

“and keep having a damn job for the rest of your life,” sebastian finishes max’s sentence. he holds his hand out, waiting for the item to be surrendered to him. “you know what’s best for you. come on.”

“fine, but-“

“there will be no buts, there will be no negotiations,” max grunts, rolling his eyes. if it weren’t for sebastian, he would have already given these three the show of their life. “you will listen to seb. end of story.”

“fine, whatever,” the man sighs, throwing the thumbdrive at sebastian. he tilts his head once more and winks at the girl. “let’s go for our date — that’s the one condition.”

“seriously, why haven’t you let me beat the crap out of this guy?” oscar asks ludicrously, throwing his hands in the air. he turns back to him. “we just said no negotiations. go and fuck off somewhere else.”

“and you better leave (y/n) alone because i grew up with brothers,” logan smiles, “i can fight.”

she moves her head lower, looking at oscar with wide eyes. she takes her spoon out of her ice cream cup and sways it in oscar’s field of vision. “hey.”

“yeah?” oscar asks, lifting his eyes from the table to meet hers.

“you mad at me?” she pouts her bottom lip out before dropping her gaze. “i’m sorry.”

“sorry for doing what you thought would help you out of a situation?” oscar smiles emphatically at her. he stabs his spoon into his ice cream and puts a firm grip on her wrist. “next time just come to one of us, okay? we’ll handle it.”

she presses her lips together as she sighs. “right. i forget that i don’t have to fend for myself anymore.”

“yeah. we’ve got your back. always,” oscar snorts. “you’re one of my best friends. logan and i would flip the earth for you.”

“likewise,” she smiles. “i’d help you bury a dead body.”

“maybe let’s not go that far.”

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#sebastian vettel x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 fem!drive #fem!driver #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke vr #logan sargeant x reader

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evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

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a hazy shade of winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: wedding nuptials and coriolanus' upcoming inauguration, leads to press.

my first work lol <3 reader's surname is "duke" for the series. i picture the duke family being a rothschild similar type if that makes sense???

contains: possessive snow, nothing too graphic, he's manipulative and a little dark. established relationship. mentions of corio's mom. alludes to smut but none.

Coriolanus stared back at his own reflection, fastening the buttons to his shirt. A nicer fabric, Tigris still selected it but did not have to mend it together like before. No, now the Snow’s were back in power, still climbing that ladder of socialites and success- thanks to you.

A small rapping on the door pulled his attention. “Just a moment.” Corio huffed, looking at the clock. Flickerman’s producer said nine sharp, he still had twenty minutes.

The rapping didn’t stop, following again, heavier this time. Corio’s spine straightened, icy with fear. His mind raced with possibilities- a rebel outside the door, here to kill him; or perhaps it was the guards, they’d found the guns he threw in the river years ago and we're here for him too.

Corio reached for his own weapon, slinking to the door, peeking under the crack. Two white heels.

“Corio,” Your voice whispered, a hint of a giggle. “Let me in, Corio.”

Coriolanus relaxed, setting the weapon down, tucked under his jacket. The door opened, you in your pristine white outfit, the sapphire fixture on your ring finger. “What are you doing?” Corio scanned the hall. “You’re supposed to be in your dressing room.”

“Tigris finished with me.” You waved him off, slipping under his arm into his own dressing room. “She went to join my parents in the audience, and I wanted to see you.” You hum, eyes rolling down his frame.

Corio scoffed lightly, shutting the door. “This is improper.”

“I think they’ll forgive us, Corio.” You giggle. “We are married.” Your hand laid gently against his chest, smoothing out a crease on his collar, engagement ring sparkling even in the low light of the room.

Corio’s hand found yours, admiring the ring himself. His mother’s ring turned yours, one of the few items he had left of hers- that they hadn’t lost or sold to stay afloat. He added the halo of diamonds. After all, he was marrying into the Duke family, he needed it to be flashy- to be worthy.

“We’re not married yet, my love.” Corio muttered, thumb swiping over the ring. “Still two more sleeps.”

“And a press conference,” You sighed, leaning into his soft touch. “And a press tour.”

It had been your father’s idea. Coriolanus was to be President come the new term, and since marrying into Panem’s wealthiest, the press tour to each District seemed fitting. The communication was less and less now, Corio wanted to keep it that way, but have them still feel involved. Your father loved the idea.

“Mmm, but a solo press tour.” Corio hummed, nose brushing against yours gently. “Just us for weeks, days on the train. By ourselves.” His voice rapeseed, tone dropping to that dark octave that left you squirming, tummy flipping with excitement.

“We won’t really be alone.” You pouted, lip jutting in a petulant sort of sulk. It made Corio’s lip twitch. “There will be the peacekeepers and guards and Tigris and-”

“-But we’ll have a whole carriage to ourselves. A private one. I’ve made sure of it.” Coriolanus nodded, the pad of his thumb brushing over your lip. “Just for us. A honeymoon before we come back.”

You smiled softly, hands raking up the soft fabric of his shirt, careful not to bunch or wrinkle the fabric- you knew how much he hated that. Corio’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him, lips slotting over yours. He always took the lead, and you’d let him, his domineering personality never settling even in moments of intimacy.

Two sharp knocks pulled the two of you away, Coriolanus pausing rigidly. “Come in,” You called, your hand moving respectfully to his arm, smoothing out your skirt.

“Ah, the love birds.” Lucky Flickerman grinned. “See, Juno, I told you they’d be together, and it looks like they’re decent.”

Corio’s face swelled with heat, mouth settling in a fine, thin line. Once he was sworn into oath, he’d have his tongue cut out for that vulgar comment. Your hand squeezed his bicep lightly, soothingly.

“So, I wanted to give you the run down before we are live on the air to all of Panem.” Lucky grinned, you knew he was smug at his rising fame. “President Snow and the First Lady… Do you want me to address you as Snow or Duke?”

“Snow.” Corio hissed before you could respond. His hand was firm on your waist, pulling you possessively into him. “She is a Snow, now.”

Lucky blinked, awkwardly cutting his eyes to you. “Right. So President and First Lady Snow, we’ll talk about the wedding- the dress, the ring, the proposal, the details, the guest list. Really lean into that, ok? Get the viewers excited for the district press tour after.”

You nodded, Lucky’s droning instructions a blur to you. Your eyes caught sight of your and Coriolanus in the mirror. How tall he stood next to you, proud and boasted- powerful. He always had his chin held high, looking down his nose at others. You were just glad he had lessened the way he’d glare down at you, traded it in for a softer side you weren’t sure you’d ever see.

His hand stayed on the small of your back, respectfully, but holding that same ownership, leading you through the small studio. “You look beautiful.” Corio whispered, pushing a loose strand of hair back into place, tucking it behind your ear.

You blushed under his praise, looking down at your white kitten heels. “Don’t do that.” Corio frowned, hand pressing into the middle of your spine. “Stand up, darling. Don’t hide from them. Let them know.”

You followed him out, hand in hand, waving to the studio audience under blinding lights. Since the success of the Hunger Games, the donors- your family included- had poured in money to have the studio revamped. Something nice, more enticing. Your father and mother sat next to Tigris. Your fathers eyes were narrowed, watchful in nearly a predatory sense, a warning to the both of you.

“Mr. and Mr. Snow,” Lucky grinned, a toothy smile that dazzled under the lights. “Or so it will be soon, yes? The wedding is…”

“In two days.” Coriolanus nodded, shoulders squared, eyes sparkling, his hand rested on your knee.

“Marvelous, just marvelous. And what a beautiful couple they are, aren’t they?” Lucky turned to the audience, nodding at their applause.

You felt hot, skin boiling under the harsh lights, under your father and Corio’s even harsher stares. The pressure to not falter, not even for a moment, was making you dizzy. Do not stutter, sit up straight, smile.

“And don’t forget, President Snow and his First Lady will be making their way to each of the Districts out there before the Inauguration and of course, before the fifteenth Hunger Games.” Lucky called exaggeratedly, clapping with his cards with the audience. “Don’t forget to join us for the reapings, it’s only a month away, folks. And as always, Panem today, Panem tomorrow, and Panem forever.”

A pause and it was done. The lights went up, producers nodding, pulling out screens and wires. You looked to Coriolanus, but his attention was elsewhere.

“That was amazing.” Tigris greeted you with a warm smile. “You did not have to mention me as your designer. I told you to say the company-”

“-The company didn’t design my dress, you did.” You nodded, squeezing her arm affectionately. “And I’m not letting that bitter, miserable woman get the credit that you deserved, Tigris.”

Tigris beamed, hugging you briefly, before your father made his slow approach, your mother on his arm. He took slow, calculated steps, looking nearly bored, unimpressed. It made Corio’s heart race- he wanted to mimic it, perfect it to have the same reaction.

“My girl,” Your father gave a half smile, lips curling in nearly a snarl. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You nodded politely. “I was afraid I spoke too much.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother waved you off lightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You did marvelous.” Her eyes cut over to Coriolanus. “You as well, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Duke.” Corio nodded, hands clasped behind his back respectfully.

“Are you happy, boy?” Your father looked at Corio, eyes beady and sharpened. “Excited for the wedding? The inauguration?” It was no secret your father and his pull were behind the election, Corio knew that.

“Of course,” Corio nodded, his hand finding yours gently, squeezing it. “I’m overjoyed, Mr. Duke. Moreso for the wedding, of course, but the inauguration as well. It will be hard to replace President Ravinstill but-”

Your father lifted his hand. “Save it, boy. This isn’t a political rally, you’ve already won.” He scoffed, shaking his head. You didn’t miss the way Coriolauns stiffened, his grip tightening on your hand. “As long as you keep my daughter happy, then you have my support.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corio forced out a smile through clenched teeth.

“The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. At the Trinket Estate Gardens, dear.” Your mother nodded at you, like you’d forget.

“I’ll see you then.” You hugged her briefly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, darling girl.” Your father hugged you, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He shook Corio’s hand firmly, a shake and a head nod before they were both whisked off, chatting to his other friends who showed. Corio wished he would have introduced him to a few, helped him build a rapport that way. There would be time, he reminded himself.

“Tigris,” You held Corio’s arm, craning around him towards his cousin on his other arm. “The white rose was a lovely touch.” You smiled, looking down at your corsage.

“Oh, that was Coriolanus’ idea.” Tigris hummed, looking at the blonde next to her. “He wanted you to have that.”

You beamed, looking up at your fiance. “You wanted me to have it?”

“I thought it was a nice touch.” Corio hummed, glancing down at you. “Thought you would enjoy it.”

“I do,” You mutter, lifting his hand to yours, lips brushing across his knuckles. Normally, he’d scold you for doing it in public. He was against any signs of PDA, a sign of weakness, he said. But he allowed it, even blushing from underneath his stiff collar.

“Save the I do’s for tomorrow.” Tigris grinned playfully at you. “What are you doing on your last night as a Duke? Going to District Two?”

Coriolanus glared at her, jaw set firmly. You shook your head lightly. “Packing.” You sighed. “We leave from the reception straight to the train.”

“Oh, I can help you-”

“-That’s alright.” You shake your head politely. “It’s just a few things. Sleepwear, toiletries- minimal things. But thank you.”

Tigris nodded back, pulling from Coriolanus gently. “I’ll wait for you in the car?”

“Go ahead without us.” Corio nodded. “We have to speak to a few sponsors after.”

Tigris nodded, waving goodbye to the both of you politely. You stepped into Corio’s dressing room, smoothing out your skirt. “We have to speak to sponsors?” You hummed, reaching for your zipper. “I thought you already did that?”

“I did.” Corio’s tone was chilling, clicking the lock to the door behind you. You stilled, eyes catching his gaze through the mirror.

Coriolanus stepped towards you, slow, calculated, with heavy footsteps. He grinned, satisfied, at how you shivered. His hands moved yours, unzipping your dress slowly. You stayed still, watching him for any sign of what was to come. You knew he’d never hurt you, purposefully, never risk what would happen if he laid a hand on you. Still, Corio was unpredictable- you hated the way it excited you.

“I just wanted a moment alone with my wife.” Corio’s breath was hot on the shell of your ear, shuddering under his touch when he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, exposing you. Bruising love bites on your chest from the night before. You wondered if his back still bore your long scratches from where you’d clawed and raked at his skin.

“‘M not your wife yet, Corio.” You met his gaze, rounded eyes that had his cock twitching. “Still another two sleeps.” You repeated his words from earlier, the tiniest grin on your lips.

“How do you want to spend your last night as a Duke, my love?” Corio’s lips ghosted over the skin of your cheek, hands gripping your waist.

“With you.” You whispered, leaning back against him. “I want to spend it with you, Coriolanus.”

Corio grinned, salacious and satisfied, fingers splaying over your jaw, holding you while he kissed you, slowly, passionately. Your pristine dress was on the floor, his hands in your hair, legs tangled around his waist while he melted you with every hot kiss.

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ghost-bxrd · 4 months

Note

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

#ghost talks #lmao Jason would be so done at this point #like pls spare him all the horrible references he doesn’t understand #he’s gen z #and everyone is suddenly using boomer memes #and he’s so lost #dick isn’t helping #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood #fic #batdad #good dad bruce wayne #brainstorming

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rootbeerworshiper · 2 months

Text

Thrift Store

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: cute asf LMAO

had an anon talk about this and omg it’s so adorable i’m 🤭🤭

love, sienna <3

“Matt cmon please one more store” Chris begs his older brother.

the three have been out shopping the entire day at different vintage stores and flea markets in LA and to say Matt was tired would be an understatement. his social battery never lasted long in public and today was no different.

as always, Matt had already found a bunch of things, but his brothers weren’t as lucky and both of them wanted to go to just one more store.

this would be fine if they could drive, but Matt’s the designated driver because he’s the only one who got his license which now means wherever they go, he goes. “you better be fast” he gives in, driving to the last store with heavy eyelids and zero motivation for shopping.

_______________________________________________

you on the other hand are more energetic than normal, you had just gotten coffee with a friend and impulsively decided to stop at a store before you went home.

fashion had always been something that spoke to you, not only did you love imaging different outfits and putting pieces together, but you also consider good fashion to be attractive—like a love language in a weird way.

thrifting was always like therapy, you’d put one airpod in and play a mix of songs ranging from Mac Miller to Frank Ocean, your felt at ease sifting through the racks.

the bell at the top of the door rings but you don’t think anything of it, still mindlessly sorting through an abundance of tops while ‘Ivy’ plays softly in your airpod.

_______________________________________________

the moment Matt steps foot into the store he freezes, literally causing Chris to bump into him in the entrance area. “bro what the fuck move”

he shakes his head, what is he thinking? “sorry” he continues walking but ultimately keeps his general focus on you, a girl thrifting by herself, he wasn’t sure why, but he was infatuated with you from the moment he saw you.

Nick looks to him as if he knows what’s happening, his brother flustered at the sight of a girl. “let’s keep moving kid there’s more important things to be looking at”

after mumbling out a quick “yeah whatever” he obliges, heading to the men’s sweater section of the store while his brothers go elsewhere.

his eyes flicker between you and the clothes, and it doesn’t take long for you to eventually pick up on the boy who’s gaze is directed towards you from across the room.

_______________________________________________

another thing you love thrifting is books. most of the time there’s not many options, but you love looking at the abundance of old books on the shelves with a hope that you’ll find something worth reading.

you couldn’t help but avert your gaze to a brunette boy in a green sweater with baggy jeans and his keys hanging on by a clip—he was hot.

and the two of you have made eye contact about twenty times since he entered the store, not that you’re complaining.

you shake your head, focusing back on the book shelf in front of you as you begin to sift through the numerous texts. soon you see the name of a familiar author and open up the book, looking for a description as to what it’s about, fully invested in the book and not your surroundings.

_______________________________________________

“i can’t just go up to her!” Matt whisper yells to Chris as they reside at the opposite side of the store as you.

the long haired boy lets out a frustrated sigh. “that’s exactly what you do! how do you think people meet each other?”

“not by hiding in the back of the store” Nick chimes in as he walks towards the jewelry section.

“i feel like it’s random, what do i even say? hey i’ve been staring at you since i walked in! no.” Matt is definitely one to overthink, today is no different.

although he had more relationship experience than his brother, Chris, that didn’t mean he alluded the same confidence.

“i don’t know Matt compliment her or something, you are literally hopeless” Chris runs his hands through his hair. “just be confident, even if you have to fake it” he pats his brother on the shoulder before waking off to join Nick elsewhere.

be confident

so he does what his brother told him, walking towards the book area with doubting thoughts coursing through his mind.

_______________________________________________

you look away from your book for one second, and the boy from earlier is directly next to you. “oh hi” you smile. you weren’t one to be introverted in settings like this, you enjoy making new friends and he was no exception.

him on the other hand, it was clear he was nervous, which only increased your own confidence.

“hey” he scratches the back of his neck, head louring low as he smiles. “do you thrift a lot? it just seems like you have good style so”

the compliment brings a heat to your cheeks. “i do thrift a lot, i love fashion a little too much” you stop yourself from rambling, if given the opportunity you could talk for hours on end. “i like your sweater, it’s cute”

“thanks” he says simply, some people are not great at receiving compliments and it’s clear he’s one them.

“what are you up to today?” you ask, looking back down at the book in your hands before adding it to the basket you’ve started.

“just shopping with my brothers all day, i’m exhausted but they can’t drive so i have to take them everywhere” he replies, earning a small laugh from you. “what about you?”

“just went out for coffee with a friend actually. i wasn’t planning on shopping but the bus wasn’t coming for another twenty minutes so i had time to kill”

“so you can’t drive either i take it” he teases, running his hand through his wavy hair.

you put your hands up as if your being arrested. “in my defence i have my learners, just need to learn how to actually move a vehicle now”

he chuckles at this. “that’s the hardest part. i could help you if you want, you know teach you how to drive”

“i’d like that, but i don’t even know your name so we’re technically still strangers unfortunately” you joke. “i’m y/n” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i’m Matt” he replies awkwardly, it’s cute though, how easily flustered he is.

“well Matt as much as i’ve enjoyed talking to you i do have a bus to catch” you gather your things. “i’ll take you up on your driving lessons but i guess you need my number for that”

“i guess i do” he says, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.

you roll your eyes, smiling as you type your number into the phone. “i’ll see you later Matt”

“i’ll see you later y/n”

and with that you walk towards the checkout, a smile still plastered on your face, and if you were to look back you’d see that Matt has the same.

_______________________________________________

when Nick and Chris finally finish shopping, the three make their way to the car after an extremely tiring day. Matt smiles as he sits in the drivers seat, his brothers joining him once they finish placing their bags in the car. “i got her number”

“you what?” Chris asks as his phone connects to bluetooth.

“i got her number and she said my sweater is cute” Matt buckles his seatbelt, doing his best to avoid smiling like an idiot.

“atta boy Matt” Chris daps up Matt as he pulls out of street parking.

the driver looks down at his sweater, he was definitely going to be wearing more stuff like this.

a/n: short and sweet but flustered!Matt x confident! reader is my fav tbh

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @s7urnfilms @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut ily <3

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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greatooglymooglyyy · 3 months

Text

Spaces, II (Matt Sturniolo)

part one

contains: angst, fluff, making up, alludes to sex, kissing, general relationship issues, 950 words

a/n: I'm the worst at series cus I just wanna post it all immediately but here's part two and @opheliaofficial07 here's your tag.

I genuinely don’t know what’s worse: the fact that Matt hasn’t called me back yet or the fact that I’m sitting here like a lame-ass loser waiting for him to.

God, I gotta get a grip but standing on business is really fucking difficult when that business is Matt Sturniolo. I grab my phone and call Nick before I lose it and do something beyond corny. He answers after only a couple of rings and I widen my eyes in mock horror.

“Oh god. I must be well and truly fucked if you answered when I called unannounced.”

“Yeah, enjoy this. Never happening again.” Nick throws back and then tilts his head and sighs. “I’m not talking about Matt with you.”

“Who?”

Nick gives me a very unimpressed look, “Girl. Be fucking for real.” I laugh and flip over on my stomach.

“No, but seriously. I didn’t call for him. I called for my friend. I need my friend.” I say, cringing slightly at how pathetic I sound.

“The fuck? Are you dying or something?” Nick jokes before adding, “You really do need me. What’s up with this hair?”

“Alright, fuck you guy-”

I lay around joking with Nick for an hour before he says he has to go. “Kk. I’ll see you when you’re home.” I say, a little sad to be alone again. He pauses before hanging up.

“I love you. It’ll work out.”

“I hope so." I say with a sigh.

“It will. Or I’ll kill you both. I can’t with the moping.” He says groaning before ending the call.

I toss my phone down and reach for my laptop, searching up Love Island and hitting play on a random season. Just as Maya Jama announces the first boy, I hear my front door open and freeze. Who the fuck? I close the laptop and try not to panic, sliding off of my bed and hiding below it. But, before I can start getting my survival plan together, I hear a very confused and familiar voice call my name.

I peek my head out and gaze up at Matt who is looking at me like I’ve lost every single piece of my mind.

“Matt, what are you doing here?” I ask, a little out of breath as I slide from under my bed.

“You know, I just feel like a better question is why you just popped from under there like a little gremlin. But okay.” He takes off his backpack and drops down onto my desk chair, spinning it around to face me.

I study his face closer now. He looks a little tired and disheveled, but unfortunately still way too attractive for it to be fair.

“No seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be on a trip right now?” I ask, still keeping my distance.

“I mean, yeah. But I had to make sure everything was good at home.” He says, gesturing to me and making my heart skip a beat.

But I play it cool and cross my arms. “And I’m home, now?”

“You’ve always been home. Even before I knew that.” He leans forward, hooking his finger through my belt loop, and pulls me to him. I stand between his legs and look down at him, reaching to push his hair back. He runs his hands up and down the side of my legs as I meet his eyes, trying my hardest to bottle this moment.

I break eye contact and look over his shoulder as I admit, “Matt, I just feel like you’re slipping through my fingers lately and I don’t know what to do. It’s fucking terrifying loving you like this.”

Matt says nothing for a few seconds but when I go to pull away, he pulls me down onto his lap so I’m straddling him.

“Listen, you are a priority to me. I’m sorry I haven’t been acting like it but you are. I think it’s just easy to take for granted that you’re the one thing I’ve got figured out.” He reaches down and interlocks one of our hands bringing it to his chest. “And if you don’t think I’m terrified, you’re crazy. Every time I have to leave you and I know it’s gonna be for a minute, my fucking chest aches right here.” He circles a spot in the middle of his chest with our hands and I lean forward to rest my forehead against his shoulder. He lets my hand go and snakes his arms around my waist, tugging me even closer.

“So how do we fix it?” I ask into his shoulder, then drop a kiss there before I lean back to look at him.

“We’re gonna make a calendar and share it. When you can be with me, you’ll be with me. When you can’t, we’ll make time. But we’re not doing this again.” He answers with a tone that says he’s been thinking about this a lot.

I smile at him now, “You’ve got all the answers, huh”

“That’s me. The man with the plan.” He jokes, leaning forward to drop kisses down the side of my jaw.

“Oh and Matt?”

“Hmmm?”

“Next time, tell Addison Rae to give you space to breathe.”

“That wasn’t even Addison. It was-”

At the look I give him, Matt snaps his mouth closed and mimes zipping it. “Sorry, sorry.” He stands up, taking me with him as he heads over to my bed.

“You know you can’t just sex me into not being mad anymore, right?” I say with a laugh as he drops me onto the mattress. He smiles, climbing on top of me and finally pressing his lips into mine.

“I wasn’t planning on trying to. But now that you mention it-”

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 7] First Ultrasound

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

On what you’re assuming is the start of the third month of your pregnancy, you finally manage to make an appointment for your first ultrasound. You debate if you want to tell Toji or not. Would he want to come? You’re not too sure if you’re being honest. He’s told you that he wants to be the best possible father for your child, but you don’t trust him. Given his track record, you can’t exactly trust him.

“I’m just here to drop off your money.” Toji can easily transfer money through the bank monthly, but he chooses to give it to you. Every two weeks he’s at your door with your money. You agreed to quit your second job and take his money; you still have your second job, but the nights that you know he’s coming, you take off. Toji invites himself in even if he’s just handing you an envelope. He never comes just to give you that.

“How’s work?” You ask, closing the door when he enters your apartment. You find it ironic that you talk more now than when you were married. He actually engages in conversation now, and he tries to talk to you as well, asking how you’re doing.

“Exhausting.” He answers. You can tell that he’s been working more lately, or at the very least he’s not getting proper sleep. There’s visible bags under his eyes, and he’s slowly letting himself go, at least he doesn’t give the proper care since he has a bit of a stubble; he’s also due for a haircut. “How about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay… I’ve been dealing with a bit of morning sickness but nothing crazy.” You answer. You leave out any other of your symptoms. How your breasts are sore, you’re extremely tired (which can also be alluded back to your second job), how you’ve suddenly been having the weirdest cravings. Sure, you’re talking, but you don’t want him to know more than necessary. You try to change the topic since you don’t like having the spotlight on you, “How’s Megumi doing?”

“He’s doing fine… He has a baseball game next Thursday, if you want to come.” He informs you and you take a note of it. You’ll try to go since you have a soft spot for Megumi, but you’re not certain that you’ll make it.

“I’ll try. Hope I’m doing better then.” You respond. He slowly nods in response, and he tries to think of something to talk about, but nothing comes to mind so he begins to walk to the door. He won’t try to waste both of your time. Before his hand wraps around the doorknob, you speak up,

“Toji…” He completely stops. Not a single breath comes from him until you speak again, “I know that you’re busy so, I’m just inviting you to be courteous… I have my first ultrasound tomorrow, if you want to join me.”

“What time?” He asks, and you tell him. At noon. He nods, and tells you, “I’ll come pick you up.”

He stands still for a moment, wondering what to do next. Wondering if you’re going to do something else. You stand in completely awkward silence for a minute before Toji realizes that nothing else will happen, so he walks out. He doesn’t say goodbye, although you don’t mind it because he never does.

Toji hasn’t been a man that’s usually punctual, so you’re surprised when he’s early. You might’ve told him that the appointment was earlier than it actually is so you wouldn’t be late, but there’s not much you can do when he’s right in front of you, thirty minutes before your appointment. The place isn’t even a twenty minute drive.

“Hi.” You awkwardly smile at him. You notice how he’s finally shaved the stubble, and you’re curious if he did so last night or this morning. “So… I might’ve– The appointment was pushed back to twelve thirty.”

“Oh– Okay.” He answers. You almost tell him the truth, but it might incite an argument so it’s best if you ignore it and tell a little white lie. He won’t question much, he never does, so you’re safe. “Did you eat something already? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” You respond, and he nods his head. He isn’t going to argue with you that you should eat something regardless, you’re pregnant and you have to keep yourself healthy for the baby– He isn’t your father nor your husband, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. And while Toji wishes he could say he was worried about this pregnancy, he simply isn’t. As fucked up it is to even think about it, he’s more worried about you than the child you carry.

“What do you want to do then? Do you just want to head out and wait?” He asks, and you nod your head in response, if you get lucky, your appointment will start earlier. You disappear out of his sight for a moment to grab your purse, but you’re back quickly. You exit the apartment and you begin to walk to his car.

The car ride is silent, you don’t have much to talk about. You don’t sense him being as excited… Or excited at all about this so you’re quiet. You don’t pay him any mind. You’re over the moon at the thought of looking at your baby for the first time. You’re in disbelief that you’re about to become a mother. Finally.

You get to the place and check in. Waiting feels interminable as you sit next to Toji. He simply looks around, while you begin to play a game on your phone. Toji finds himself bored, and since he doesn’t have anything interesting to do, he chooses to try and talk to you. He clears his throat, and speaks up, “So how far along are you anyway?”

“Hm… I think, maybe three months along? I do have a bit of a bump.” You share, and Toji’s brows raise, he looks over at you, but your shirt is baggy which doesn’t let him really figure anything out. His eyes keep staring, and he finds himself frustrated at the fact he doesn’t know. If you lived with him he’d see your body better, and he’d notice every small change. At least that’s what he thinks.

Your name is called and you stand up, following the woman to the ultrasound room. Toji follows behind, walking much slower, trying to see if he does notice a bit of a bump. The previous night you were wearing a tank top– He didn’t notice anything then. He isn’t all too observant anyway so maybe he missed it.

Toji watches as you lay down, and you begin to talk to the technician. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on between you two. Until you finally lift up your shirt, and he does see a bit of a bump. It’s nothing that’s really noticeable but it’s there when you lift up your shirt, it’s definitely something he would’ve noticed if you lived together.

You squeal as the cold gel is poured on your abdomen, and the transducer is then pressed on your skin. Your eyes then fall on the monitor, and an immediate smile comes to your lips. A little kidney bean. Your eyes well up with tears as the technician points out their little head.

“It’s just one baby, right?” Toji asks, and the technician assures him that it’s just one baby. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He notices you stick out your bottom lip, and he rolls his eyes. You seriously didn’t want twins, did you?

You look over at Toji, trying to see if there’s a bit of excitement behind his eyes when he looks at the ultrasound, and while it’s not clearly written on his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he looks at the monitor. He perks up when he hears the sound of the baby’s heartbeats. It’s in that moment that Toji realizes just how big this is–

He’s a father, he knows the birth of a baby is a big deal. Toji would give up his life for Megumi. But your pregnancy… The beginning of it didn’t excite him the way that his first wife’s did. Maybe it’s because he was set on not being a father again, or maybe it’s because you’re separated. Perhaps it’s because even though he wanted to use your pregnancy as a means for you to stay, you still left. He’s just focused on you and your relationship, not the fact that he’s actually becoming a father again. Doing it all over again.

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to do it all over again; but he feels the excitement slowly grow by looking at his baby and listening to their heartbeat. It’s nothing too crazy though.

When the technician finishes up, you’re handed a napkin to wipe off the gel. You do so, and you’re told to wait for the doctor. You’re smiling foolishly, thinking that you’re becoming a mother even though you had given up on that dream a while ago. Given that dream up for the man that’s waiting next to you.

“You seem really excited.” Toji comments when you’re left alone. He watches your hand go to your lower abdomen as you look up at him.

“I am. I can’t wait to meet my baby.” You answer. Toji chuckles, your excitement radiating and infectious. “Do you want a baby boy or a girl?”

“Hmm… A baby boy since I already know how to deal with boys. I have no idea how I’d raise a girl.” He responds. “How about you? Do you want a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference, I just want a healthy baby. Boy or girl.” You reply, and Toji wonders if that’s how he should’ve responded. Would that have gotten him positive points with you? Did his response fuck everything up a little more?

The doctor walks in, and she tells you what you want to hear. The baby is healthy, and growing the way they should be. You’re around fourteen weeks along– Which means you’ll be due around December, and that you’re further along than what you assumed. Your baby wasn’t conceived the night that you told Toji you’d be leaving him.

You get your ultrasound pictures, and Toji takes two, even though he tries to act like he isn’t excited.

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Matrimony

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.7K words

SMUT 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex. possessiveness, flirting, drinking, body image/too tight dress, gaslighting.

THE WEDDING. FINALLY. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE.

The sheets in the large hotel bed were soft and smelled so clean. They lacked the heavy rose smell that lingered in the Snow home. It was a welcome change of pace.

Too bad [Y/N] had hardly slept a wink in them. She was too nervous. It was the day of her wedding, after all.

She didn’t hate Coriolanus. She had before, but she didn’t now, not really. Coriolanus had slept well last night, which he rarely did. He only slept a few hours a night too often. [Y/N] thought her nerves had increased due to the proximity of the wedding, Coriolanus’ had subsided as the day drew closer because it was likely that he thinking he was one day closer to fully having [Y/N] under his thumb. But whoever knew what Coriolanus was thinking?

[Y/N] was worried about saying I love you and I do. She knew Coriolanus didn’t want her to be so anxious about it and reminded her, with a kiss to her forehead each time, that she could do it. He loathed being supportive, but he was getting better at pretending. It was less exhausting for him now.

If nothing else, tonight would be a party and a party meant she would drink and eventually she would blackout, if she was lucky. And Coriolanus would get her back upstairs to their hotel room and fuck her good and hard, so he would be happy. And they would wake up still wed the next morning. And he would be still be haughty and she would still be discontented. And that would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

[Y/N] had watched Coriolanus leave quietly through the door nearly an hour before. The few moments of rest she was able to get from her night of sleep ceased when he pulled his arm off of its nightly home on her waist. He had turned over his shoulder to look at her from the door before he left. One final good, long look. It was funny. Coriolanus never took the time to look back at her. [Y/N] snapped her eyes shut when Coriolanus rocked his weight back onto his heels. [Y/N] hoped he hadn’t seen her blush or fluttering eyelashes. [Y/N] got so excited at the simplest gesture from him. If she were a less careful woman, she may have almost smiled.

He looked at me.

The brief joy was gone with Coriolanus and he was now long gone. [Y/N] finally rolled over to step out of the bed. Her new silk white nightgown alluded to her future that evening. [Y/N] sighed. Her hand crunched against something paper beside her. Coriolanus must have left something. [Y/N] glanced to her right. A white rose from the vase he had requested on the bedside table, free of thorns. [Y/N] smirked. Of course. There was also a note in his curly, slanted script.

Darling,

Big day. It’s likely the next time I see you will be at the alter. Remember, you have nothing to be nervous about. I’ve got you.

And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. You’ve got dancing to do.

C.B.S.

He was so good at baiting her into comfort that [Y/N] almost forgot it was baiting. She took at deep breath. I’ve got you. Coriolanus still had not seen the dress, but his educated guess about the corset was spot on. He was always spot on. He paid too close attention. It was shocking that Coriolanus could oscillate from obvious manipulation and intimidation to the man that cared for [Y/N]. Unless the second part was more elaborate manipulation too.

[Y/N] went to the bathroom to piss.

Dark spots on her neck and chest greeted her. They never really faded away. Coriolanus would find new places for them, or mark over the old ones. [Y/N] liked how they looked and certainly how they felt to receive. But what a pain they were to conceal! She should have known better and acquired a high-necked gown way back when. It was a winter wedding, so it wouldn’t have looked out of place.

The beauty parlor would be able to work some of that Capitol magic on them.

[Y/N] looked in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom with the pristine black tile and giant bathtub. She smiled vapidly. That was that. By the end of the day, she would officially be a wife. Her identity would be defined by Coriolanus.

Once, she smiled because her poor decisions would reflect boldly on Coriolanus. Now, [Y/N] worried because it was the other way around. She was a permanent extension of Coriolanus and his aspirations and desires the second she had his name.

She sighed. For better or worse.

[Y/N] crept down to the hotel lobby in large green sunglasses and a hotel robe. It was turquoise. It was a terrible color. Coriolanus would have hated it. She lost her purple sunglasses after the Flickerman interview. Coriolanus did like that. He hated those sunglasses too. The green ones were better to him. A small part of [Y/N] liked knowing that Coriolanus was pleased by what she wore.

She glanced around. No sight of Coriolanus. She didn’t want to break tradition. There was no more room for things going wrong in her life. Across the lobby, [Y/N] went towards the beauty parlor and the wedding shop. She had gone through so many catalogs of dresses and hairstyles and everything must be perfect, only for her to allow to be handled by beauticians who were strangers at the last minute.

Then the hands landed on her waist. [Y/N] gasped, readying herself to scream. The hands pulled her to firm chest and the hands turned into arms, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back beside a ficus and a fern.

She looked down and saw the hands. Pale white hands with rings and a loose bracelet.

Coriolanus Snow, rigid, but never one for following the rules.

“Coriolanus!” [Y/N] squeaked. “You’re not supposed to see me yet. Let go!”

“That’s a silly old story. Saw you this morning.” He whispered with a smirk, holding [Y/N] waist tight.

“It’s… yeah, but—“

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to see the dress. But you—“

“I don’t wanna ruin today—“

“Fine! Fine! Just let me look at you one more time and I’ll let you go,” Coriolanus said. He spun [Y/N] to face him easily. His eyes slid from her eyes through glasses, down her face, her neck, her breasts, back up to her neck. That’s where his eyes greedily stopped. His finger tickled the skin on the right side of her neck where he had left a dark bruise. [Y/N] laughed a little and slotted her face into his hand.

“No thanks to you, the ladies in the parlor will have to work harder on me today.” [Y/N] said, referencing the marks.

“Don’t cover them.” Coriolanus said simply.

“What?”

Coriolanus smiled softly. “Don’t cover them. You look very beautiful.”

“Yeah, didn’t know you had such a sense of humor, Coryo. Could’ve fooled me,” [Y/N] smirked. “It’s our wedding.”

“So?”

“So…” There was no good argument. [Y/N] had done much worse before. They both knew that. She huffed.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, if I had to take my shirt off for some reason tonight, my back looks three times worse than your neck.”

[Y/N] blushed. “Yeah, but you eliminated your argument by saying that. Because you are wearing a suit. I’m wearing a low-cut dress.”

Coriolanus gritted his teeth. He was going to say something harsh. He refrained. “So the dress is low-cut?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck!” [Y/N] exclaimed. “No. No more. I’m going,” she tried to pull away from Coriolanus. “Let me go. I’m going. I’ve ruined it,” she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You cursed us. We’re cursed. That’s bad luck.”

“If anyone cursed us,” Coriolanus let go of her waist. “It was you, Darling.” He called as she walked away. [Y/N] shuddered as crossed her arms. He hadn’t meant it, had he? God, he loved it when he made her nervous.

—

[Y/N] had some bridesmaids. She did not love that she had to share the stage and the big fluffy dresses with the ladies, but here she was. Lysistrata was her Maid of Honor. She wanted it to be Clemensia, but Coriolanus said no.

After that, Clemensia refused to be in the wedding party at all. Too bad.

[Y/N] thought she looked good in her white snowy gown. Lovely even. But she was too nervous to focus on much of that beauty.

Everyone would nitpick her dress, her hair, her body, why she of all people was unbreakably becoming the Capitol’s darling’s Darling, among other things. The pressure was high. [Y/N] had not been able to make herself cry either, which was unusual for her. The woman wanted to claw at her skin and tear it off from the itching, nerves and impatience.

Would Coriolanus finally love her tomorrow? Or would he ignore her now that she was belted in permanently as his plaything. [Y/N] didn’t want to be used only when Coriolanus wanted. She would have bitten her nails if they weren’t so well-manicured.

[Y/N] inhaled. Her corset was too tight and she was so nervous. The breath came out ragged. It didn’t relieve her the way that a deep breath was supposed to. She thought back to Coriolanus’ note: And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. She hadn’t listened well enough. [Y/N] did not want him to be mad at her. She reached back with shaking hands to try and loosen it, but she couldn’t manage.

I’ve got you.

When she sat down on the bench in the hallway outside of the venue to wait for her father to walk her down the aisle, the pressure shift made the bottom half of her dress’ corset tightened more. The dress was stunning, it was a true. A ballgown, a favorite style of [Y/N]’s. It was indeed low-cut with a beaded white corset pressing her breasts higher. It didn’t make her feel whorish, but it helped her feel beautiful. Over that, she had a wintery long-sleeved translucent mesh top. It was white and was covered with speckles that looked like snow in the places where snow might catch as it sprinkled down. Her veil was less traditional and didn’t cover her face completely. [Y/N] felt freer in it, and Coriolanus wouldn’t have to wrestle with it. Under it, she wore the red heels she had worn at their engagement party. It was sentimental, but that night was one of the first actual lovely memories she had of Coriolanus. Was that memory meant to be lovely? [Y/N] was unsure. She decided she would remember it that way. If she didn’t, she would lose her mind at what she had done to herself.

I’ve got you.

Everything had to be lovely.

The wedding had to be lovely.

“[Y/N],” Her father said, approaching her in a loud colored tuxedo. Gaudy. Tacky. “Stand. Let me look at you,” He muttered, extending his arm to her. [Y/N] did as she was told like she was a child again. The man could barely look at her. They had spoken for the first time since their engagement party at the rehearsal dinner the day prior. Her father was pleased to leave the burden of his disappointment on another man. [Y/N] shifted and did a small spin for her father before taking his arm. She could hear the orchestra playing inside the venue along with the chatter. [Y/N]’s looming father reached behind her and grabbed the ties of her corset and pulled the ends tighter. Her breath hitched. “That’s better.” Her father said. Then, he proceeded to the door to finally give her away.

[Y/N]’s head swam. She had already been laced into the damn corset for what felt like too long but in reality had been a bit over an hour. She coped by taking shallow breaths from her chest and staring straight ahead, unblinking.

The doors parted. [Y/N] hadn’t even realized that had been pulled in front of the doors to the event hall itself. All white and red, like most winter weddings were meant to be, but white and red the way Coriolanus (and by extension [Y/N] now) liked. The bouquet, forgotten, was held straight and clutched tighter. [Y/N] lacquered her smile back on. Being in front of everyone she had ever known made her dizzy. Everyone she had ever known gasped and smiled in delight at her. The music changed. She walked. She wanted to puke. Eventually, she was at the alter. Her ribs ached. Her chest burned. [Y/N] smiled wider.

Coriolanus. His loose blonde curls were determinedly tamed, slicked behind his ears. His unruly hair never did what anyone commanded, so it was an impressive feat. Black tux, white bow tie, red rose; standard. His shoes were also red. Those were new. Did he think about her red shoes from that night often too? Had he snooped and seen her shoes in her tote bag last night even though she told him not to? It must have been his intuition. Best not to read into it. Coriolanus Snow liked red.

He also wore gloves. White and dapper. He looked so clean. Those gloves made sure not a trace of the cruelty he was capable of was visible. No trace left behind.

[Y/N]’s father deposited her in front of Coriolanus with an obligatory kiss to her forehead and walked away. She couldn’t recall walking to the alter. Her knees shook. Coriolanus was tall. Had he always been so tall?

Effortlessly, Coriolanus leaned forward and wrapped his hands behind her waist. [Y/N] thought he had just meant to place his hands on her too-narrow waist to greedily admire what he was capable of manipulating her body into. Instead, he loosened it.

I’ve got you.

What a beautiful scene that must have been. [Y/N] inhaled deeply through her nose as if she had risen from the dead. The world around her felt real again. Everything looked real. “Thank you.” She gasped.

Coriolanus kissed her forehead, much like her father had. Power shown as repetition and reversal of action. “I thought I told you not to cinch it so much.” He whispered softly. Coriolanus tipped her chin up with the fingers under his white leather glove. The pictures of that moment would later be so beautiful.

“I didn’t.”

“Somebody did, Darling… Silly. These are pretty, though.” Coriolanus whispered away from prying microphones. He dragged his finger across her neck, meaning some of the marks she had left uncovered on a stupid whim that was about to share a last name with her, but showcasing her pearl necklace instead.

“For you,” [Y/N] panted back sarcastically. “Can we get on with it?”

“Romantic.” Coriolanus scoffed and leaned away from [Y/N]’s ear. His shoulders unrolled to their full and staggering height, beautiful beast that he was. Coriolanus took [Y/N]’s hand that did not hold a bouquet of red roses in his. She swore she had imagined the circle Coriolanus has ghosted over the back of her hand.

The officiant of the wedding was beckoning everyone to sit. [Y/N] hadn’t realized the attendees had been standing. The officiant wore black as well. He was disgracefully old. [Y/N] looked out the massive picture window over Coriolanus’ shoulder. There was snow outside, too.

The old, frail man cleared his throat and held his arms open to the congregation. “A true lasting marriage requires effort, commitment, and unending understanding. As [Y/N] and Coriolanus declare their partnership on this day, we reflect on the meaning of partnership and its importance to a successful union. Partners, in life, think of one another as capable, but each arriving with their own special skills.” At these words, [Y/N] scoffed. She wondered if Coriolanus thought her capable. Coriolanus stared down at her. No love. No hatred either. He looked at her stoically. She wanted him to look down at her with something. Usually, he did. She wanted an iota of anything.

What happened to I’ve got you.

“Marriage is rarely equal. In marriage, you will often be required to honor commitments you cannot fully understand. The mark of a successful marriage is that you meet these commitments with patience, honesty, and love—even as you fail.

“Over time, you will realize that the burdens placed upon you by life are not loads to be carried—they are opportunities. Each day is an opportunity to be shared with your partner; the dawn of each day brings new experiences.”

[Y/N] felt like vomiting. This was burdensome. Not a burden, a weight. Would Coriolanus help her lift it? Or would he leave her to roll the boulder up the hill each morning on her own? He promised that he would; that he had her back, that he would help, that she would never be left to struggle alone again.

“Your rings and your vows, please.” The old man sputtered. Coriolanus removed his gloves to tuck into his pocket and exposed his beautiful hands. [Y/N] wondered if he had ever played piano. Likely not. He did not own a piano. His hands indicated that he would have been natural to it.

He procured two white gold rings from his breast pocket. One thicker for his own large hand, one daintier with three very small rubies to go with the massive ruby in the daintier still engagement ring. Coriolanus passed her the one meant for his finger.

Now came the part that had [Y/N] worried. Both the words themselves and the memorization of such words. Coriolanus was to begin. Naturally.

Coriolanus inhaled deeply. His chest jumped under his white tie. [Y/N] nearly guessed he was nervous. How could a creature like that get nervous? “I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee, [Y/N] [L/N], to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” He spoke deceptively calmly. His voice boomed with an authoritarian edge. He had a completely different voice in public than he did in their bedroom. After the words were passed his lips, he smiled. Finally. Finally, he attempted to reveal a feeling. He slid the ring down her left ring finger to its final resting place.

“I, [Y/N] [L/N], take thee, Coriolanus Snow, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey,” the word that had made her so nervous. Once she said it, everything felt much lighter. The hardest part was over. [Y/N] took that last step to give herself to Coriolanus. He had everything of hers, and now he had her ring finger too. She felt she had rushed the beginning of this vow, so she took her time with the little that remained. “Till death us do part.” [Y/N] concluded as a wife. She pressed his ring onto his ring finger. Slow. Coriolanus couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

[Y/N] dragged her eyes from the hand that dried her tears and gripped her throat, to the eyes that hungered for every morsel of her. [Y/N] handed her bouquet to the woman, whichever one stood closest behind her, and clasped both of her hands against Coriolanus’, like she was supposed to. She would be the best at doing what she was supposed to. From this day forward, [Y/N] would find that she was capable at something and do it effortlessly for Coriolanus. There was no other option.

Lastly, the Capitol’s undying wedding tradition. Handfasting. The officiant spoke again with clinical and precise rhythm. “Handfasting is an old and venerable tradition that dates back more than ten thousand years. As I wrap this ribbon around your hands, I want you to think about what you think marriage means.” The traditional narrow red ribbon cinched together their palms like a corset.

Marriage was… what, a partnership? A trap, a cage… [Y/N] thought back to the beginning of the ceremony. A burden? No. An… Opportunity. Coriolanus Snow was an opportunity. He took a chance with her and her bullshit everyday. She did the same. Everyday would be an opportunity that she would take at all costs. [Y/N] would make it work.

I’ve got you.

“Marriage will deepen your commitment to one another and strengthen the respect and support you each bring to your relationship.

“Your challenge is to grow with one another, to offer each other compassion and understanding, and to take each new challenge and adventure as it comes as a team. With each wrap of the ribbon, I give my blessing as an officiant that your marriage will be so. Let this bond be strong. Let this bond be eternal. I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.”

As the pair’s hands were cinched even nearer together, [Y/N]’s eyes caught Coriolanus’ in prolonged eye contact. They both looked light. Relieved. It was over. The hard part was over. She swore she even saw Coriolanus smile— not smirk.

“Mr. Snow, you may now kiss your bride.”

Coriolanus did not waste even a second. He tipped his bound hands up and used the force of the action to pull [Y/N] to him. Their lips met in a searing, stinging kiss. Coriolanus pressed down against her, [Y/N] neck strained from turning her head up.

—

Everything was a blur. There was the dance floor, the drinks Coriolanus kept bringing, the hand locked on [Y/N]’s waist. The delicious cake. [Y/N] had smashed a forkful into Coriolanus’ pristine pale face. He had looked both surprised and upset, but he didn’t say anything like the good husband he was becoming. Plus he got the opportunity to get [Y/N] back and do twice the damage. He did this swiftly. Everyday in a marriage was an opportunity. Or something.

[Y/N] had been introduced to many important people Coriolanus worked with but he kept her too drunk and dumb to do much more than nod and keep her up arm protectively glued to Coriolanus’ arm. Especially around some of the prettier woman. She hated seeing his white teeth flash at those other woman. How could they smile like that at him with his wife in her gown right there?

[Y/N] stumbled to the bar for a whisky sour. While she waited on the bartender to mix her drink, she glanced through the bright flashing lights at her husband. The fair-haired man was sitting at their table, chatting with one of his University ‘friends’ that had stopped by to wish them well. [Y/N] glanced back at the bartender.

“Congrats.” The bartender said. [Y/N] squinted at his name tag but barely registered what it said.

“Thank you.” She replied, folding her hands on the bar.

“Some wedding. Very beautiful. You look very beautiful. That’s a hell of a dress, too. Is it hard to move in?”

“No, not really.” [Y/N] smiled slightly.

“Your husband’s been back and forth the the bar a ton. He pretty drunk by now?” Bold. Why had the bartender asked that?

[Y/N] her head. “Most of those were for me. So. How about that whisky sour, hm?” She said, her smile getting tighter and tighter-lipped.

“A man like that would make me wanna drink too.”

[Y/N] had spent much of her relationship with Coriolanus feeling that way, but hearing it from someone else made her upset. She did not like hearing anyone say a damn word about him. Only she was allowed to be upset about Coriolanus. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Excuse me?”

“He’s… He’s tough, no? Cold. Hard exterior. Guys like that freak me out. You seem very different from him. I mean, fuck. Look what he did to your neck. You let him do that? He make you do that?” He shrugged too casually. The stranger was taking much too long to mix a whisky sour. It was an easy drink. How many had he already unknowingly made for her tonight?

“Different maybe,” she started. “But he doesn’t freak me out at all. He doesn’t… Make me do things I don’t want to,” Lie. Not right now, but sometimes, lie. “You don’t know him.”

“Sure, sure, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Odd topic choice.”

“Is it?” The man smiled. “I’ve been to enough of these weddings to know that girls like you rarely fall for men like him. Usually, there’s some crying bride at the bar because her parents said they would disown her if she didn’t marry some guy like your blondie over there. You’re keeping it together fairly well, doll.”

“Make the damn drink.” [Y/N] replied.

“Jeez, lady. Just trying to—“

“I think the lady told you to make the damn drink,” Came Coriolanus’ voice and his arm squeezing squeezing like a vice around her waist. She didn’t know how much more that waist could take. “Darling, is this man bothering you?” He asked quietly.

If she said yes, the bartender’s tongue would be cut out, or worse. The young man didn’t know; he had been trying to be nice. But it felt so good when Coriolanus came to her rescue and she had to practice positive reinforcement every now and then.

[Y/N] decided she would do her favorite thing: cry. Coriolanus couldn’t ever ignore her tears. [Y/N] knew her husband loved to fix a bird with a broken wing like herself. She sniffled and blinked a few times, staring dead at the bartender, before the tears started to fall.

“Yes. He is bothering me.” She said. The bartender looked appalled at the psychotic display. Clearly, he had misread her situation. [Y/N] knew she was capable of being nearly as rotten as Coriolanus. This man standing in front of her was about to face the consequences of assumptions. [Y/N] looked up at Coriolanus and placed a hand on his chest. He understood exactly what she wanted. Causing their first scene as a married couple. Milestone.

Coriolanus tightened his grip on her. “Look,” Coriolanus squinted at the bartender’s name tag. “Brutus. Hm. Brutus, do you know what that name means?” He condescended.

“Strong.” The bartender replied, putting his shaker down cautiously.

“Really? Well, I suppose it could contextually. Though, I was under the impression it meant dull,” Coriolanus scoffed. “What have you done, Brutus, to upset my wife so much?” He said Brutus as if he were saying dull.

“N-nothing. Just making conversation.”

Coriolanus smirked and [Y/N]’s grin echoed his, but her teeth were straighter. They both liked it when they had someone uncomfortable enough to stumble over their words. “Just making conversation? Did he touch you, dear?” Coriolanus asked. The punishment for touching her would be losing a hand or two. The fellow made a decent drink. She didn’t want him to lose that gift.

[Y/N] sniffled, tugging at Coriolanus’ heartstrings. “No,” sniffle. “He was only running his mouth. He thinks I sh-shouldn’t have married you.”

Coriolanus dragged his blue eyes between [Y/N] and Brutus. “Why shouldn’t we be married?” Coriolanus asked too easily. It was a trap. Brutus shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. “No, please, go ahead. I’m just making conversation. What was it that you said to my wife, here? I’m curious now.”

There was silence. Brutus hung his head uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sir. [Y/N] knew Coriolanus would like that.

“Jealous? Think you could please my wife better than I could? Am I on the right track?” Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips against weeping [Y/N]’s neck from behind as he spoke to Brutus.

Drunk and dumb from the stress, the alcohol and his touch, [Y/N] reached her hand up to tangle it into Coriolanus’s curls. He didn’t protest for once. Her fingers cut through his hair product and lodged in place, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How’s this for you?” Coriolanus murmured, staring at Brutus and touching [Y/N] disgustingly.

[Y/N] wasn’t sure if it lasted minutes or hours, staring the bartender down like that. Coriolanus pulled her into the lobby and up the stairs to their hotel room. She couldn’t remember exactly if Coriolanus had made the two of them say a proper goodnight to the remaining party attendees. She still had her shoes on, so she would settle for being impressed with herself for that.

Coriolanus unlocked the door to their room and propped it open with some difficulty.

“What are you doing?” She asked tiredly.

“Well, Mrs. Snow, you went on about so many little traditions this week, so I figured I would gift you this.” Coriolanus scooped [Y/N] clumsily into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the room. [Y/N] smiled at his gesture.

Coriolanus walked with her in his grasp until he set her down on the bed with a muted thump. He turned back to the door and closed it. [Y/N] stared up at Coriolanus as he returned. The jacket of his tux and his red shoes had vanished on his walk back.

[Y/N] was quite surprised that Coriolanus had remained in what seemed to be such a decent mood for him all day. The smile or smirk or snarl still lingered on his plush mouth. “Hi.” [Y/N] said.

“Hello,” Coriolanus replied, cocking his head. “That dress really is something else,” he said. His eyes wandered grotesquely over her body. “What did your family think?”

“Barely saw my mother. She was at the bottom of a bottle of posca. Father thought my corset was too loose.” She wiped the remaining wet spots from tears off of her cheeks.

Coriolanus nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you can follow instructions. It was him that locked you in that thing…” his eyes hadn’t moved from her breasts which threatened to spill from her top from laying at this angle. “May I help you out of it?”

She blushed red. “The note you left…” [Y/N] started. “Sweet, by the way. How did you know it was corseted. Did you peek?” She slurred.

“Lucky guess,” Coriolanus said too quickly for the remark to be truthful. “Do me a favor and obey your husband. Turn over. I want it off.”

[Y/N] popped off her memorable red heels and rolled gracelessly onto her stomach so that Coriolanus could undress her how he liked. He crept onto the bed and straddled her thighs with some difficulty from the dress’ bulk. His fingers got to work with the silk cord. [Y/N]’s ability to take low, full breaths increased with each movement of his nimble fingers. “Coryo, what’ll happen to that man from the bar…” [Y/N] quietly.

“That’s none of your concern. He’ll be dealt with for the way he spoke to you, don’t worry,” Coriolanus said, undoing the buttons of her dress now. “No one’s going to get away with speaking to my wife like that. Not now, not ever,” My wife, not you. Because he loved her and they were eternally bound. Or because she was an extension of his existence— nobody talked to him like that. Coriolanus manipulated her body like a doll to get her out of her wedding dress until she was down to her snow white lingerie and garters. “Fuck.” He said at the sight with eyes as wide as saucers.

“It’s adequate?”

“More than adequate,” In an instant, Coriolanus was on her. He was unclipping her garters and pulling her dampened lacy panties down. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Snow.”

“Fuck me. Please. Really. Not just fingers, or something.”

“Hm,” Coriolanus started. “I should marry you more often.”

Coriolanus pulled off his own trousers and boxers without complaint. [Y/N] sighed happily. “Tell me you love me.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t care if you don’t mean it. Tell me you love me.” She stressed. [Y/N] wanted the silhouette of a normal wedding night even if it wasn’t one.

Coriolanus said his I love yous while he expertly rubbed [Y/N] clit, who cares if he was sincere or not. Neither one of them knew if he was sincere or not and either would do well enough.

The sex, however, was anything but transactional.

By the look of it, Coriolanus had long been hard in his pants. [Y/N] knew exerting some sort of power over that man at the bar in her honor would have gotten him all riled up. After noticing [Y/N] was already shockingly wet, he pressed his hands into the pillows beside her head and pushed his cock into her easily. “Damn. You’re so wet,” he grunted. Coriolanus scrunched his blue eyes shut. He began to set a pace; much slower than he normally would, less brutal too. He was gentle. Almost. Completely gentle was not a setting he came equipped with.

Coriolanus had never fucked [Y/N] without protection before (that [Y/N] could remember, at least). She made no move to stop him. They didn’t have any barriers left to worry about since they were married. Both silently agreed to never go back. He felt so much better in her this way.

[Y/N] moaned when his right hand moved between them to keep stimulating her. “Good, that’s good,” She said, reaching up to grip his shoulders. Her hands crept further up to grab his hair. She loved his hair, even if he fought hard against her about it so often. “Is this good for you?” [Y/N] whispered.

Coriolanus snapped his icy eyes open and plunged his head into her cleavage in reply. The lacy bra she wore was in his way, even if he thought it did [Y/N] beautiful favors. With one hand and his teeth, he ripped the bra right down the middle. “Better now,” he smirked darkly. Coriolanus slid one of her nipples past his lips. Coriolanus could conduct her moans and pants like a symphony. He knew exactly how to get his most desire response out of her. Coriolanus fucked and rubbed faster, but resisted sliding a hand around her throat and squeezing. At least for the first round as a married couple.

She could get used to the soft way he touched her. Mr. and Mrs. Snow. This caring front felt like it could almost last forever to [Y/N]. Too bad it was a front. She let out a high breathy gasp. The sound she knew he liked best.

Coriolanus was glad they had no plans tomorrow. One more sound like that and his hand would have no choice but to squeeze around her windpipe. She was always so beautiful like that. He changed his mind from weeks before as he looked at her from sucking at her nipples.

This is how he wanted to remember his Mrs. Snow. Makeup dripping, moaning beyond control, eyes rolled back and ripped and fucked out of her dress and lingerie. Because only he could make her feel like that for the rest of her life.

“I love you.” [Y/N] breathed, but she didn’t mean it, not really.

“I love you too.”

It was almost the truth.

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar @kaealowri @weeeoosworld @dilucpegg3r @bai-wuxiangs-mask @kisstheskin

as always, apologies for the tags that did not work. love you all.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #truculent series #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 12)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 12 and final part to the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

it's the first race you attend with Lando, the first time tensions are high before the race can even start, the first time your fears turn into reality because of course, it can never be easy. or can it?

word count: 6.5k tags/warning: mention of the 2022 hungarian grand prix, a lot of anxiety, alluding to driver!injury i think thats it

The end of July brought you to Budapest for the Hungarian Grand Prix.

It was also the first time you attended a race weekend with the intention of showing up in the paddock with a driver other than Charles.

You spent most of Friday and Saturday in the McLaren motorhome, but now it was the race. You weren’t going to hide behind the safety of the black and orange walls. You were going to be there, in the garage, to show your support for Lando.

But you were not prepared for how extremely out of place you would feel.

You had never spent any time in any other team’s pit except for Pierre’s one time and even then it was because you lost a bet and had to wear Alpha Tauri merch for an entire weekend. You didn’t choose to be there.

You chose to show your support for Lando this weekend.

He wanted you there, of course, but you also wanted to be there.

You were standing in the booth at the rear of the garage when Lando approached you from the side, hand finding your back to give you a comforting touch before he reached for his balaclava.

There were still a few minutes before the cars had to be wheeled out to their starting positions. Lando wasn’t in any hurry to get into the cockpit, nor did he like putting himself in a position where he felt rushed or uneasy.

You, on the other hand, felt uneasy.

That wasn’t even the right word for it. You were stressed, anxious, paranoid, on edge, literally every single thing you shouldn’t be feeling before a race.

Lando sensed it. Maybe it was the way you didn’t lean into his touch like you normally would. Or maybe he caught the way your smile was forced on his behalf, to make it seem like you were okay. Whatever it was, Lando knew you. In a very short period of time, he knew how to recognise what you were feeling.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly, discarding the white mask on top of the booth as he rested his arms on the surface. He clasped his hands together after dragging his fingers through his hair, but his worried eyes met yours. “You’re more scared about the race than I am.”

You were careful to keep your voice down. SkySports was standing just outside the garage with a camera and for some reason those mic’s picked up absolutely everything.

“Scared’s not the word I would use,” you spoke through a heavy inhale. You wished Lando’s loving gaze was enough to calm your nerves, but he wasn’t the only driver on the grid who had an affect on your emotions.

Lando nodded, “Feels a bit odd not standing in the Ferrari garage, yeah?”

“It just feels wrong,” you admitted. And then your hand went to cover his, eyes going wide when you realised the strength of your words, “I do want to be here, really. It’s just weird, is all. Like I should be there to talk to Charles before he puts his helmet on and tell him good luck- not saying that it’s a pre race ritual but in a way, it sort of is?” You huffed out an exasperated breath, hoping that what you were saying was making sense. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. It’s just weird that I’m at a race and I’ve said two words to Charles. Hi and bye.”

Lando turned his hands over to connect them with yours, giving your fingers a squeeze. He glanced down at his balaclava and then up at the screen where F1TV was playing. When the image changed from a close up on Lewis to one of Charles standing in the back of the garage, in a nearly identical spot to where you stood in McLaren, you both noticed the way Charles’ normally calm demeanour was replaced with one that, again, was nearly identical to yours.

“You know, I never really thought you two looked alike,” Lando muttered, but in this moment you could have been twins.

The agitation was clear on both of your faces. Eyes glossed over with guilt and uncertainty as neither of you knew what to say to the other but both finding your lack of presence in the garage to be way too noticeable and foreign for your own good.

Lando looked at you, nodding his head in the direction of the pit lane, “You should go there.”

“I want to be here,” you told him. You were certain about that.

“You don’t need to stay there,” Lando reminded you. He took a quick look at the screen. “There’s still a few minutes before either of us have to get in the cars. I’m sure he’d appreciate you telling him good luck.”

That thought had crossed your mind, just stopping by and returning back to McLaren. But if you did that, how would Charles take it? Would he see it as a pity pop-in? Would he think that would be your version of an apology? Even though you had absolutely nothing to apologise for. You didn’t know what would go through his head, but you could count on him somehow turning it around and blaming your quick hello as the catalyst if he were to have a poor race.

Lando sensed your hesitation and instead of trying to convince you further to go and say something to your brother, he gave you the opportunity to look at it from a different perspective.

“You know, maybe Charles is thinking the same thing?” He told you. “It’s probably just as weird for him knowing that you’re at the race but haven’t said anything. I’m not saying you have to apologise, you shouldn’t apologise, but-” he licked his lips, eyes darting up to the screen again. “If you’re the one who’s saying he shouldn’t bring his personal problems onto the track, don’t you think you should do the same?”

That thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

A sliver of a smile teased the corner of his lips. “You can be a supportive sister and still be mad at him. Just like you can be my girlfriend and his biggest fan. You’re not trapped in a box. None of us are.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Girlfriend? Did I miss-” you pointed at him and then around the general area. “-did I miss something? Did a grand gesture happen?”

Lando rolled his eyes, leaning forward to bump his elbow against your arm before he nodded towards the pit lane once more, “Go wish your brother good luck.”

You eventually gave in and nodded. Lando took the bright orange headset that rested around your neck and placed it on the booth, making sure to brush his thumb across your cheek as he did so. You agreed, no annoying acts of PDA in the paddock, but he couldn’t help but find any reason to touch you.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him and you grazed your hand across his back, another small but simple gesture to show that you also couldn’t keep your hands off him, before you used the rear doors to sneak out of the McLaren garage.

There were anxious butterflies in your stomach when you pulled on the door handle to Ferrari. The same last-minute chaos was present in the garage like usual, but it didn’t take long for you to find Charles, standing next to his car, chatting with Xavi.

Strangely enough, when he spotted you, it felt similarly wrong to be standing in that garage. Like you didn’t belong, and you had just experienced that same dilemma in McLaren. You hated that feeling, as though you didn’t belong anywhere.

But Charles didn’t ignore you. He didn’t turn back to you and leave you with that sinking feeling in your chest. He excused himself from Xavi and walked towards you, fiddling with the racing gloves in his hands.

“I just wanted to say good luck,” you blurted out, like ripping off a bandaid. You said it, now you could leave. And you started to, you stepped backwards, ready to head towards McLaren again.

Charles stopped you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, smiling a little. “You’re ah- you’re at McLaren?”

It was your turn to nod, “Yeah it’s less chaotic over there, believe it or not. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” When the end of your sentence flowed into soft laughter, Charles joined in, rubbing his lips to possibly try and hide that he found your words humorous.

You hated this, the awkward small talk with your own brother.

His demeanour shifted, his shoulders tensed as he inhaled a sharp breath. Whatever was on his mind, whatever he wanted to say, he had been sitting on it for a while. Maybe since you left dinner so abruptly.

And yes, you wanted to clear the air with your brother, but now was not the time to do it. Not when he was minutes away from climbing into the car. You both learned your lesson last time.

“I’ll see you after the race,” You told him, preventing him from opening the door to a new conversation. This was the moment when you had to separate your brother from the driver and right now, he was a driver.

Charles nodded as someone handed him his racing helmet. You wished him good luck once more and shared a smile before you made your way back to the McLaren garage, feeling much lighter now.

Lando noticed it, he noticed the lack of tension in your features as he reached for his helmet that was left on the booth. He gave you a thumbs up from across the garage and you reciprocated it before cupping your hand around your mouth and calling out a quick ‘good luck’ to him as well.

You were certainly feeling better going into the race, but it didn’t take long for the nerves to return.

As you watched the first few laps, you suddenly remembered why you gave yourself the no dating drivers rule. You were anxious enough as it was with your, somewhat, strained relationship with Charles, but as his sister, you still hoped for his success.

And now you were watching with caution every time Lando made a move as well. Everytime he locked up into a corner, every time he went in too deep, everytime his race was at risk.

You didn’t like the constant back and forth, wanting to keep up with what both Lando and Charles were doing at the same time, holding your breath for each of them, feeling twice the amount of stress build up to the point where you thought you needed to vomit.

It didn’t help when at lap six, there had already been a yellow flag brought out due to a minor incident involving Yuki, but now you were watching the lap 12 replay of Nyck de Vries spinning out into the barrier. At first, you thought he’d be able to reverse and get himself to the pits but when the red flags were called due to the damage to the front portion of his car and all the drivers started to return to the pits, you felt even more anxious.

There would have to be a restart.

Turn 1 at the Hungaroring stressed you out enough. You remembered the 2021 grand prix here when nearly six cars had to retire from an accident that took place at that first corner on the first lap. You thought that the drivers were all safe this time when no big moves were made and everyone made it through that corner without any damage.

Now they had to do it all over again. Elbows were going to be up this time, the drivers’ were undoubtedly going to make some risky, or dumb, moves.

The red flag brought all of the drivers out of their respective cars. Lando sent you a thumbs up from across the garage, but that was about all he could give you at this given time. His attention went towards the mini impromptu briefing in regards to how to go about the last three quarters of this race.

You tried to tell yourself that, as horrible as Nyck’s red flag was, maybe it was the one incident this race would have. How likely was it that something else would occur?

The twisting knot in your stomach told you not to get your hopes up.

You were watching the broadcast for a bit, trying to pass the time and not think about what could go wrong when you felt a hand on your waist.

“Be careful,” you said, eyes filled with worry as you turned towards Lando.

“Be careful?” he repeated with a chuckle, “It’s just a restart, everything’s fine. Car’s fine, I’m good, I just want to race.”

But you couldn’t explain it. Deep in your gut you just knew there was room for mistakes, that something was going to go wrong on this restart. These drivers were eager to get back in their cars and keep fighting and that’s when their margin of error grew.

“Just be careful,” you repeated, pressing your palm to the side of his face, thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek. Lando knew better than to make a joke at this moment, seeing how paranoid you were and he just nodded before he was ultimately called away.

That horrible gut feeling only grew when the drivers got back in their cars. You watched, holding your breath as they lined up in the starting positions, ready for the safety car to take them on a formulation lap.

When they were finally back on the grid, your heart was racing. Lando was starting from seventh. Charles in fourth. The red lights lit up one by one and then they were off.

Max got off beautifully, even you could admit that, but that was maybe the only positive thing to take away from this restart.

George nicked the back of Carlos’ car and sent him spinning. Lewis’ reaction time was fast and he avoided the Ferrari but he couldn’t avoid Checo who had locked up ahead of him right before turn one. Somehow, in this chaos, Lando managed to swerve to the side and narrowly miss the collisions.

The same couldn’t be said for Charles.

There wasn’t much he could do when the unfortunate series of events caused Checo to spin and block Charles’ Ferrari, colliding into the red side pod and sending car number 16 into the air before ultimately flipping upside down onto the gravel.

You watched with that painful, sinking feeling as Charles slid into the barriers. Very reminiscent of Zhou’s crash in Silverstone the previous year, but now it was your brother who found himself in this situation. Upside down in the cockpit.

And you had no idea if he was okay.

It wasn’t like you were wearing one of the Ferrari headsets and could listen to Xavi’s radio message, asking Charles to confirm he was okay. You were standing in the McLaren garage, hand over your mouth and had to wait like everyone else.

This was the moment you were referring to that night in Montreal. The moment when your world stopped.

You had to grip onto the booth, feeling your legs start to weaken beneath you. You just needed to know he was okay. For the love of god why hadn’t they broadcasted anything yet? Why hadn’t they announced he was fine? Why haven’t the marshals pulled him out of the car? Why wasn’t Charles climbing out of the seat?

These were the slowest seconds of your life.

Your lungs were failing you. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Your eyes were glued to the screen and all you wanted was to scream for someone to tell you that he was fucking fine.

As you watched the broadcast, a close up on your face appeared in a square on the side of the screen. You had no idea you were crying, or that there was even a camera on you until Jolyon Palmer’s fucking voice pointed it out.

“...Leclerc’s sister watches on like the rest of us from the McLaren garage- oh and it appears one of the McLarens is also in the gravel, is that Lando’s car? I believe it is, but he’s not- he avoided the collision, didn’t he-”

Alex Jacques interjected, “He’s getting out of the car! Lando Norris is sprinting across the gravel towards the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc-”

His voice became background noise as you watched the scene unfold. Lando, who got away relatively fine with very little or possibly no damage, could have continued the race but he had gotten out of his McLaren and was now bent down next to the open cockpit of Charles’ car.

Lando lifted his head, waving the marshals over who had taken way too long to show up, in your opinion. Or maybe you just felt as though they were moving slowly because everything else was.

You saw Lando reach in and pull the steering wheel from the car and then finally, the black glove belonging to Charles grabbed onto Lando’s hand, needing his assistance to be pulled out from behind the halo.

There was a collective sigh of relief from the entire McLaren garage, probably from the entire paddock honestly. Even as the marshals showed up, Lando refused to step aside. Even when Charles stood up, Lando kept his hand on the Ferrari driver's back and used his other hand to point to the safety car that was pulling up.

Charles pulled his helmet off, even though he was most definitely advised to keep it on for the time being. As the camera focused on his features, it was impossible to miss how shaken up he was from that crash. He wasn’t angry that everything out of his control caused him to retire from the race, he was scared.

His life flashed before his eyes, you couldn’t blame him.

He said something to Lando, nodding his head slightly and the tension lines in his forehead seemed to reside, just for a moment.

Lando patted his shoulder, happy to see that a fellow driver was walking away from this incident with minor injuries. He’d have to retire, they both would. The second that Lando made the decision to get out of the car, he forfeited his race. It was one of the rules brought on by the FIA, one that didn’t even cross his mind.

All he cared about was making sure Charles was okay.

Lando didn’t need to join Charles in the safety car, but he did and Charles was probably thankful for it, that a familiar face would be with him as he was being transported to the medical centre.

You ditched the orange headset and sprinted out of the garage. The medical centre was just on the other side of the garages and you were certain you looked a little insane as you ran as though you were competing in a marathon, but you didn’t care.

There was security outside the medical centre, of course there was. The drivers needed their privacy as they were being checked over, but you didn’t expect to be denied entry. Charles was your brother.

“Oh come on,” you scoffed, sounding a bit frantic as you gestured to the doors. “He’s my brother! I need to make sure he’s okay, that he’s-”

And then the door opened from the inside and a very dishevelled Lando, still in his drivers suit, was standing there. He had heard you, it was impossible to not hear you with the way you were making a scene. He told the guard you were fine to come in and reluctantly, he stepped aside.

As thankful as you were that Lando was there to vouch for you, your attention was solely on Charles. You didn’t take a second to thank Lando for getting out of the car, you barely even acknowledged him as you ran down the hall to the examining room.

Before you could open the door you took a peek through the small window and saw him sitting on the edge of the examining bed. He was given the chance to change out of his drivers suit and opted for a baggy Puma shirt and sweats. He sat still as the doctor checked him over, answering the questions with head nods or quiet ‘no’s’.

You told yourself you had to be patient. The last thing he or the doctor needed was you barging in.

You leaned against the wall and forced yourself to slow down, to really process what hell just happened in such a short amount of time. Raising your hand to your cheeks, you finally wiped away the last bit of tears that had been stuck in the corner of your eyes.

“He’s okay.”

Looking down the hall you saw Lando making his way towards you. His intention was to give you a few minutes alone with Charles before joining you, but when you didn’t go inside the room and instead slumped yourself against the wall, Lando couldn’t just leave you.

Lando reached for your hand and gently tugged you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your body.

It was comforting and it was what you needed right now.

“He’s okay,” Lando repeated, hand moving to stroke your hair. “Everyone’s okay, he’s a little shaken up but he’ll be fine.”

Lando pulled back slightly and took hold of your jaw, titling your face up. He brushed his thumbs under your puffy eyes, forcing himself to smile in assurance despite knowing how traumatising this was, not just for Charles but for your entire family.

Speaking of family, Arthur was the next Leclerc to run into the medical centre. Having been here this weekend as well for F2, he had seen it all as well. Not from the garage, he wasn’t there during the actual race, but he was still in the paddock and experienced the exact same feelings you had.

Lando stepped aside, letting you embrace your brother, both of you taking comfort in knowing that Charles was going to be fine.

“As-tu parlé à maman? Enzo?” Have you spoken to mom? Enzo? You asked, slowly feeling your trembling body start to settle itself. Enzo was somewhere in the paddock as well, usually he watched from the Ferrari garage but he was nowhere to be found now.

Arthur glanced at Lando and then at you, “Enzo’s on the phone with maman. When he knew Charles was safe, he called her.”

“Good,” you nodded. Enzo was probably the best option to calm your mother down and assure her everything was fine. You were still struggling to come to your senses and Arthur seemed to be about as loss for words as you were.

When the doctor stepped out of the room, she wasn’t at all surprised to see a whole family affair happening outside the doors. She simply told you he was all clear but needed to stay in the bed for the remainder of the afternoon just to monitor his symptoms.

All you needed was the go-ahead to see him and once you were given a thumbs up, you pushed past the doctor to tackle Charles back onto the hospital bed he was trying to sit up in. Arthur joined as well, arms going around both of your bodies as Charles patted you both, or at least tried to with his restricted movements.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Charles told you through a chuckle, “Je le promets, je vais bien.” I promise, I’m fine.

“It was terrifying, mate,” Arthur said on your behalf when you both stepped back to give Charles some space to breathe. “Upside down across the gravel-” he shook his head, “You’re lucky, is what you are.”

Charles nodded, there was no denying how grateful he should be, being able to walk away with very minor injuries.

“My radio disconnected, I tried letting Xavi know I was okay but nothing was going through.”

God maybe it was better you didn’t have a Ferrari headset on. If you had to listen to Xavi calling to Charles asking for a response and not getting anything back, you probably would have ran out to the track yourself.

“Did the race start again? Who's still in?” Charles asked, of course he was concerned about the race.

Neither you nor Arthur had an answer though.

“All I know is George somehow caused five drivers to retire, including himself,” Arthur said, and then he counted on his fingers. “You, him, Carlos, Lewis and Checo.”

“And Lando,” Charles added without missing a beat. His eyes went directly to you. You hadn’t said a word since you entered the room, but what was there to say?

This was your biggest fear and it could have gone so much worse. You were too dumbfounded to hear that Charles was going to be walking away after this to even think about anything else.

And that included Lando.

“Lando’s car is fine,” Arthur pointed out.

“FIA rules,” you said with a swallow. “If you get out of the car-"

"-you abandon your race," Charles finished, a sliver of guilt crossed his face. He didn’t ask for Lando to help him, nor was Lando even slightly involved. He took it upon himself to check on the Monegasque driver.

“Is he out there?” Charles asked, glancing at the door.

Truthfully, you didn’t know if Lando had stayed. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he went back to the McLaren garage. But when you opened the door and saw him sitting out in the hall, foot tapping against the floor, you put your hand on his shoulder and encouraged him with a nod to follow you into Charles’ room.

Lando kept his hand connected with yours, or maybe you refused to release the grip you had on his fingers, but his attention went to Charles.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Lando said what everyone else had been thinking this whole time.

Charles could have nodded in response. He could have said ‘same’ or ‘thanks’ anything, really. One word would have sufficed.

But Charles looked at Lando and asked, “Why’d you get out of your car?”

The question wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t by any means upset that Lando did what he did. It was more personal curiosity, why would another driver sacrifice his own race? Why would Lando, someone who could have continued on and had a pretty successful race following the multiple retirements, stop his car and climb out?

“I think the better question is, why didn’t anyone else?” Lando answered, squeezing your hand. “Yes, we’re drivers but at the end of the day we’re just people. If I had crashed like that and no one came to check on me, I’d question the integrity of the grid.”

Lando looked at you and then looked between the Leclerc brothers. All of you were wondering the same thing.

Would Charles have stopped for Lando if the situation was reversed?

You prayed they would never find themselves in that situation again, but it was a question you would all be thinking about. Charles, especially.

Lando didn’t stop for your sake. Sure, you were most definitely on his mind when he saw the way Charles’ flipped onto the gravel, but his thought process was not ‘I need to check on him because I’m dating his sister.’ Lando, in the goodness of his own heart, knew what needed to be done. He knew how terrifying it would be for Charles to hang upside in the cockpit, alone, probably anticipating impact from another car.

Lando didn’t care about the race. He cared about Charles. Just like he cared about you and Oscar and Carlos and every single person he ever interacted with, had even the briefest relationship with. Lando was a good guy.

He didn’t need to prove that to anyone, but he did.

And Charles finally saw that. He could separate the driver from his friend. He could see Lando as a rival on the track and at the end of the day, still respect him as the person you chose to go home to.

“I really am glad you’re okay,” Lando said, a smile curling up on his lips. “I should get back to McLaren though- let me know if you need anything? I’m sure we both have to fill out incident reports or some shit.”

They exchanged a laugh and Lando leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before retreating out of the room. All of you waited until he was definitely out of earshot before Arthur was the one to break the silence, letting out the most exasperating breath ever as he gestured towards where Lando just stood.

“Are you still on your high horse or do you finally give them your blessing?” Arthur asked, earning a smile from you in response.

Charles licked his lips, rolling his eyes in a very similar fashion to how you would, “They don’t need my blessing. They would have dated regardless.”

You nodded, agreeing with everything he had just said. Charles would not have been the one to separate you two.

But it would certainly be nice to know he approved. It would be easier to breathe the next time you thought about inviting Lando to a family dinner. You didn’t want to have to fight with yourself when it came to choosing what garage to stand in during a race. You didn’t want there to be sides anymore.

As you stood there, waiting for Charles to say something that hinted towards him not having a problem with your relationship, it hit you that Charles was more stubborn than you gave him credit for. He would probably never give a verbal approval.

But his stare told a different story. The way he glanced at the door behind you. The realisation in his eyes when he thought about the way you leaned into Lando’s touch before he left the room. The look Charles gave you told you that he could see how happy that McLaren driver made you, that he knew there was no point in fighting it.

So he didn’t have to say anything, you knew.

You stayed in that room for the rest of the afternoon, even though Arthur did tell you that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you went and found Lando. Charles didn’t even tense up when he suggested it.

But you stayed seated next to Charles’ bed, Arthur on his other side as you watched the race restart for the third time. Enzo joined you not long after and he sat down next to you, nudging your side and asking where Lando was, as if it was odd that he wasn’t there.

“I’ll find him later,” you said, but later would turn out to be way after the race when you finally made it back to the hotel.

Lando had texted you just before the race ending, asking if you were getting a ride back to the hotel with your brother. He also checked in on Charles, making sure he was still, in his words, ‘alive and nowhere closer to the drivers championship’. Charles rolled his eyes when he read that text over your shoulder.

Lando knew how important family was to you, even during the uncertain times. That’s why he wasn’t upset in the slightest that you spent the rest of the race with your brothers. He could separate you, the girl he was waiting to call his girlfriend, from the girl whose brother was a Formula 1 driver.

He knew what he was getting into when he looked at you differently all those weeks ago, he knew he’d have to share you, that this would only make all three of your lives a little more chaotic, but he still looked at you.

And god was he glad he did.

You returned to the hotel and told Charles to call you if you needed anything before heading up the elevator to the room you and Lando were sharing for the weekend. As you looked into your purse to find your room key, something on the carpeted hotel floor caught your eye.

A white flower petal. Just one.

And then another just a few feet ahead.

And then a dozen more that you didn’t pick them up, but you followed the wavy line of them all the way to the door to your suite, which had been propped open by a deadbolt lock preventing the door from shutting all the way.

You pushed it open only to see full daisies attached to their stems on the floor this time, also in a line that you followed down the hall and around the corner. You were starting to imagine what was waiting for you behind the bedroom door, but never in your wildest dreams would you have pictured this.

Lando standing at the edge of a bed, not in one of his own Quadrant t-shirts for a change but a form fitting black button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and just enough of his chest showing that you had to remind yourself there was more to look at.

On top of the bed was a box of pizza, but it was flipped open and it was mouthwatering. It wasn’t some random box he picked up at a shop on the way back to the hotel, this gourmet pizza looked like it cost a pretty penny.

On the side table were two glasses, wine glasses of course, but next to an unopened bottle of Perrier because Lando didn’t drink wine but you both had no complaints about sparkling water.

Most importantly, in his hand was a bouquet of daisies, beautifully wrapped in brown paper.

And it finally clicked.

“I thought I’d redo our first date,” Lando said quietly as you walked towards him.

The pizza, the flowers, the sparkling water. Everything that was in attendance that first night he came to your place, unannounced and unwelcome but somehow it ended up being the most beautiful start of these whirlwind couple of months.

“That wasn’t a date,” you teased as Lando handed you the bouquet.

“Agree to disagree,” same words too.

Lando snaked his arm around your back, hand spread across the thin fabric of your shirt as he pulled you against his chest. You draped an arm over his shoulders, careful not to drop the flowers as two very similar smirks grew on both of your faces.

Lando stopped himself from kissing you, instead letting his lips hover over yours as he quieted his voice, “Do I really have to ask?”

“Yes.”

He squinted, something he did when his smile grew. You loved the lines around his eyes, the creases in his forehead when he was undeniably happy. It meant so much more knowing you were the reason for his bright features.

Lando took a breath before your first and last name passed through his lips. His hand moved further up your back and even though you knew what was happening, your heart was still racing, in the way you wanted it to this time.

“Will you-” he paused, rolling his eyes at how naive this all sounded, but he carried on because he knew it was what you wanted. “Will you, please, be my girlfriend?”

Your eyebrows twitched, “Oh, you’re begging?”

Lando turned his head, “Okay, you know what, I take it back-”

Before he could finish the rest of that sentence you cupped the side of his face and pulled his lips to yours. Lando’s grip on your back pulled you tighter against his body as the daisies slipped from your hand and onto the edge of the bed.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” you muttered against his lips, kissing him quickly once more.

Lando was blushing at your response, but his grin shifted into yet another smirk. One with an ulterior motive, one that had you slightly cautious.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you I only checked on Charles because I knew it would move me up your driver ranking?”

You pulled back and stared up at him, jaw slack as he held his hand over his stomach and laughed at his own words.

“I’m kidding!” He assured you, blurting that out before you could really question his motives. “I promise, I’m kidding. I really did want to make sure he was okay."

“Well now I don’t believe you,” you scoffed, but you only said it to get under his skin in response.

You could tell when Lando was being honest and you could tell when he was simply making a joke. Granted, maybe now was not an ideal time to make a joke, but him being able to make you smile, even a little bit, after witnessing something as traumatic as Charles’ crash, was what you needed.

Lando being there to support you, to be the shoulder you needed, to be someone who only had your well being, and apparently your brothers’ wellbeing, in mind, was all you ever needed.

“I don’t think you’ll ever surpass my own brother on the ranking,” you admitted with a sly grin as he twisted a strand of your hair around your finger, tilting your face upwards again as he listened to your final ranking. There was some truth to it. Charles would always be up there, but there were never any rules against ties. “But you can share the number on spot with him.”

Lando licked his lips, “What about number one in your heart?”

Your head dipped forehead against his chest as you laughed at his words, more specifically how quick he was to get them out, like he was waiting for a reason to use that line.

“That was so cheesy,” you said, still laughing. “Like, horribly cheesy. I-should-walk-out-of-this-room kind of cheesy.”

And you pretended to, taking a step towards the door, careful of the daisies at your feet. But Lando didn’t let you go anywhere. His grip on your hand tightened and he pulled you back to him, where you both knew you belonged.

“You loved it,” he teased, his smile only growing at your eye roll.

“I did,” you admitted quietly with a reluctant sight. “I loved it.” You took a breath, looking at the set up he had created in your absence. “I love this, I love-” and then your eyes darted up to meet his again.

Lando Norris. The driver turned friend turned something more. In such a short period of time, he became one of the most important people in your life. His teasing, his jokes, his stupid driver ranking plan.

He was someone, that from day one, you should have known you were going to fall in love with. Since the day he decided to make it his mission to move up your list of favourite drivers.

But it was okay that you weren’t there yet, that you looked up at him and choked on that endearing phrase, shutting your mouth instead. Saying those three words took time, trust, effort. This was still so new.

Besides, after working his way up from sixth to, a tied, first, Lando needed a new mission now anyway.

And getting you to fall in love with him seemed like the perfect one.

-----

six months later

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, ynleclerc and 576,102 others

tagged: ynleclerc

landnorris happy 6 months to the girl who once said i was her sixth favourite driver

view all 16, 530 comments

ynleclerc i love u

charles_leclerc don't get too cocky mate you can easily drop back down the ranking

carlossainz55 remember when i was her second favourite?

pierregasly why is this the first i'm hearing about a driver ranking

ynleclerc because you were booted to last place landonorris just like the driver standings pierregasly 🖕🏼🖕🏼

danielricciardo i approve of this relationship

the end :')

thank u everyone for the support while this intended 6 part series turned in 12 parts ♡ i hope u all fell a little bit in love w lando norris bc i sure did - also make sure to check out my other work here (ps i cant wait to start a new fic hehe)

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1@masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1@scarlettisconfused@sbgal@e-lisa-bettan@harrysdimple05@ophcelia@alesainz@fandomxs1@majx00@sbgal@mehrmonga@themockingjayreader@f1mockingjay@topguncultleader@lclrnelliluvs@moonxblossom@dr3lover@andrewgarfields-girlfriend@tsarinablogs@noescapricho-essentimiento@f1mockingjay@xqueenslytherinxif i missed someone im so sorry

#lando norris #lando norris au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris social media au #lando norris fic #f1 requests #f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #holllandtrash

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luvyeni · 6 months

Text

❛TWO PLUS ONE❜ ( l.minho & h.jisung )

p. bestfriend!minsung x fem!reader w. 4.5k+

warnings? threesome, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, mxm moments, alludes to a poly relationship

— 𖦹 ( both you and your boyfriend are crushing on his long time friend, so why not add him ) !

“You ready?” you boyfriend asked, you both were sitting outside the house of one of his best friends, you fixed your lipgloss, turning to him. “You sure this is the right place to meet them, I mean this is your friends celebration party – is now the right time to introduce me to them?”

You and lee know had been dating for about a year, when he decided it was time to meet his friends. “Of course, Felix wouldn’t mind, he’s been the main one asking to meet you, well besides jisung.”

Ah jisung, you’ve heard about jisung more than any of the others — he was your boyfriend's closest friend. “Jisung has been waiting to meet you since we’ve started dating.”

“I promise babydoll, if I didn’t think they didn’t want you here I would have bought you.” He reassured, you nodded. “Okay, let’s go, i’m ready.” He reaches over, giving you a kiss. “Good girl, if you’re good tonight i’ll eat that pretty pussy of yours until you’re begging me to stop.” You smiled, “Deal.”

You guys walk up to the door, his hand resting on your lower back, knocking on the door. “Jisung is gonna love you I swear.” You laugh, “I feel like you just wanted me to meet jisung.” He hummed, “besides you, he’s the most important person in my life.” You nodded, as the door swung open.

“Hyung, you’re here!” A blonde hair fairy opened the door — he was gorgeous, “And this must be y/n?” He held his arms out. “You’re even more gorgeous in person.” He pulled you into a hug. “Be calm Felix, before changbin gets all jealous.” Minho guided you into the house. “Please, he gets jealous over any little thing, i’m used to it.” You laughed. “Sounds like you.” Your boyfriend pinched your side, “Because you’re mine.”

“Just like changbin, mine mine mine, like give it a rest.” He guided you both through the party, to the kitchen. “Well make yourself a home, drinks are self-served, I have to go greet more guest, and make sure changbin isn’t somewhere strangling seungmin.” He excused himself before leave.

After pouring you both some drinks, lee know guided you through the crowds of people, “let’s go find my friends.”

After looking for a few minutes, you seen him smile. “There they are, let’s go.” He held your hand, and you both walked over to the group. “There he is!” The one you knew as chan beamed. “And look who he bought.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to you both, mostly you. “You must be yn?” You nodded, holding your hands out. “Hello.” You smiled, “Oh please, we’ve been waiting forever to meet you, come here.” He pulled you into a hug.

“Baby you know their names; that’s chan — of course you met Felix and that’s changbin, hyunjin and seungmin.” He pointed them out, “And that’s jeongin, our maknae.” He introduced them, you waved. “It’s nice to meet you everyone.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, you’re always the topic of our conversation with minho, so it nice to finally put a face to the name.” You turned to your boyfriend. “Don’t act so smug, you know how obsessed I am with you.”

“Obsess isn’t the word, I haven’t heard him talk about anyone like that before.” Seungmin said, “Well beside jisung.” You hummed. “I’ve heard so much about this jisung, is he here — I would love to finally meet him.” You spoke. “He just went to the bathroom; he should be here soon.”

As if on cue, a boy came jogging over. “The long was so long.” You watched your boyfriends' eyes light up — much how they did with you. “Hannie-ah.” Your boyfriend called. “Hyung, w-when you get here?” He was cute, his chubby cheek, lips in a permanent pout — if you weren’t in a relationship with your boyfriend, he’d definitely be your type.

“A few minutes ago.” Your boyfriend said. “And he bought yn.” His eyes drifted to you — you swore you saw them widen just a bit before returning to normal. “y-yn?”

Jisung didn’t mean to be so surprised — but you really were as gorgeous as minho had said, he seen pictures of his of course, but you are even more beautiful in person. “It’s finally nice to meet you.” You pulled him into hug.

“Oh my god, is this what lino hyungs’ wet dreams look like.” Felix quickly slapped his boyfriend's chest; you laughed pulling away. “Please excuse him, he’s drunk.” You held your hand up. “It’s fine.” You spoke, turning back to jisung. “I understand why he talks and him so much, he’s adorable.” Jisung’s face turned red at the unexpected compliment.

“Wow only jisung could have both the girlfriend and the boyfriend be equally as fond for him.” Jisung coughed awkwardly. “T-thank you.” You nodded, turning to your boyfriend, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

“I‘ll go get it baby.” You shook your head, “stay and talk to your friends, I can go get my own drink — do you want something.” He shook his head no. “Jisung, you want something?” His eyes cutely widened. “Me?” He pointed to himself. “Yes, you’re the only one without a drink.”

“S-sure, if that’s okay with you.” You nodded. “Coming right up.” You said, untangling your arms from lino. “I’ll come with you; someone here needs some water.” Felix climbed off of changbins’ lap, following behind you, both of holding on to each other as you shuffled away from the group.

“Your girlfriend is amazing, never break up.” Seungmin spoke up, lino sat down on the couch. “She is amazing, the best thing that has happened to me in a while.” Lino eyed jisung who sat on the arm of the couch, who seemed to be in his own world.

“I’m so surprised that you and lino got together.” Felix said, You both stood in the kitchen gossiping. “We all genuinely thought he’d end up with jisung.” You tilted your head in confusion. “Oh my, did you not know he was bisexual?” his eyes widened, slapping his mouth. “I talk to much.” He whined.

You laughed, stopping him, “Of course I know, that was the first thing he told me when we got together.” He sighed in relief, handing you a drink. “But I didn’t know he and jisung used to date.”

“Oh, I don’t think they officially did, but it was so obvious they were more than friends, they were like soulmates.” He said, you nodded along, listening. “They did everything together — still do, well when he’s not with you of course.”

Oddly enough, you weren’t jealous upon hearing this — it was actually cute that your boyfriend had someone like jisung in his life before you — you remember your boyfriend telling you all the stuff they did together in college, and it seem like they had a lot of fun together. “Do you know know why they didn’t end up together.”

Felix shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I don’t actually, I think they just decided to stay friends.” He explained, “Then he met you.”

You guys made your way back to the group, holding your drinks. “Here you go jisung.” He took the drink from the hand. “Th-thank you.” You nodded, sitting down in lino’s lap. “What took you guys so long?” He pouted, “I missed you.” You kissed his lips. “Just having a chat, learned so much.” You said, your eyes drifting to jisung, who was already staring at you two. You smiled at him, he quickly turned away — looking into his drink like it was important.

“Yeah?” He kissed your neck, you chuckled at his nose tickling you. “Like what?” He smirked. “That’s a secret baby.” You said said. “We don’t have secrets baby you know that.” Felix spoke up, cradling a drunk changbin in his arms, feeding him water. “Ah lino hyung, mind your business.”

“Yah Lee Felix, don’t try and turn my girlfriend on me.” He shouted; you grabbed his cheek. “It was nothing baby I promise.” You kissed him again. “Oh my god you two are so cute.” Hyunjin cooed, you smiled taking another sip of your drink.

The party was ending, people slowly leaving one by one. “I’m glad everyone could make it.” He held changbin up, “And yn it was nice to meet you, you have to get my number from lino so we can get coffee together.” You nodded, standing up.

“You ready baby?” Lino nodded, standing up. “Yeah, just let me go say bye to jisung, he’s talking to chan over there.” He said, “I’ll come with you — it was nice to meet you guys.” You waved, intertwining your hands with lino; both of you walked over to the boy.

Chan excused himself, claiming he had to go work on a song, leaving you both with jisung. “You have a way home jisung?” Lino asked, the boy nodded. “Y-yeah hyung, seungmin is gonna drive me home.”

“It was to meet you yn.” He said, you pulled him into a hug. “You too jisung, I hope we can meet each other again, maybe in a calmer setting.” Lino smiled at the interaction. “S-sure okay.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. “I’ll call you.” He grabbed the boys' arm, before walking away with you.

The ride back home was short, both of you making small conversation — you told him about all the drama you got from the women at the party, his hand resting on your thigh as he drove.

That all switched up as soon as you stepped foot in the apartment, his lips were on your neck, and you soon found yourself being pressed against the bed as your boyfriend buried his face in your cunt.

“Fu-fuck lino, more.” You moaned grabbing his hair, pushing him deeper into your sopping heat. “Fu-fuck, fuck i’m i’m gonna cum baby.” You screamed. “Fuck! i’m gonna cum!”

Your cunt clenched around his tongue, cumming all over his face. “Shit.” You breathed, coming down from your high. “That felt so good.” He came up from between your legs, kissing your lips. “Told you, I could spend hours eating your pretty pussy.”

“So did you like my friends.” Lino asked, you hummed. “Of course, they’re really nice, especially Felix, he wants to have coffee this week.” Lino nodded, “That’s good, i’m glad you’re getting along with them.”

“And jisung?” He said, “How did you feel about him?” You look up at him. “He’s cute — a little quiet, I wish I could speak to him more.” You said, he smiled. “You and jisung seem to be really close.” You said, rubbing his chest. “Yeah, since college.”

“Have you guys ever done anything together?” You wanted to see if he would lie. “Why do you ask that?” His eyebrow quirked up. “Mmm I don’t know, just a question.” He could tell when you were lying. “Baby, did Felix tell you something?” You smiled cheekily realizing you’d been caught.

“Is that what you guys were talking about? If me and jisung fucked?” You pouted at his crude language. “Don’t say it like that.” He laughed, “We’ll did you?”

“Yeah, we did a few times.” He said, “when?” You questioned. “A few times in college, a couple times before I met you.” He said, smirking. “Why you jealous baby?” you slapped his chest. “That’s you who’s always jealous.” You said.

“Besides, jisung is cute, if we weren’t together i’d definitely fuck him.” That made his cock twitch for some reason. “R-really?” he cleared his throat. “Yes, why would i lie, I would definitely take care of him though.” God that was turning him on hearing you say that.

In all honestly lino often thought about his time with jisung, no he’d never cheat on you — he loved you with all his heart, but jisung, jisung was something special to him. he’d often thought about what it would be like if he was in a relationship with you, but also jisung — waking up with both of you, dates and everything, but he never brought it up, scared you think he was gonna cheat.

“Lino, you okay?” you asked noticing he suddenly went quiet. “Huh?” he said. “I asked were you okay?” He nodded. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You wanna fuck jisung?” You asked abruptly, you could see something in his eyes, the way he looked at jisung — it didn’t make you mad, it actually turned you on a bit. “Baby.” You sat up, turning to him. “It’s fine if you do.” His mouth hung open. “Are you saying that just because you want to please me, because mph—” you hushed him up with a kiss.

“I see how you look at jisung, you look at me the same way.” You said, “I think it’s cute, I think you guy’s relationship is cute.” You confessed. “Baby, seems like you have a little crush on jisungie too.” You smiled, shrugging — maybe you did, maybe you just wanted to fuck him, you didn’t know, but you definitely did feel your heart pitter a little when you met the boy.

“He’s cute.” You smiled, “I just want to take care of him I don’t know.” He smiled. “You think he’d be down?” You asked, your boyfriend furrowed his eyes. “Be down to what? Fuck or date us?” He questioned. “Well, I know I definitely want to fuck him, but I would also want to try and date him, if that’s okay with you.”

He felt like he was dreaming, you were quite literally bringing his fantasy to life. “I need you to totally sure you want that, we’re talking about adding someone else into our relationship, I like jisung very much, but if you don’t want to, I won’t force you.” You straddled his lap. “I want to.” You said, “I want to so bad.”

He smiled, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a heated kiss. “I’ll talk to him about it.” He toyed with your bottom lip. “I’ll invite him over and we can talk about it together.” He said. “Fantastic.” You beamed. “Now.” You slowly rocked your hips. “I want you to fuck me.”

He flipped you over, hovering above. “Did thinking about fucking jisung make you horny.” You bit your lip, nodding. “Nasty baby, I didn’t even ask him yet and your already soaked for him.” He toyed with your clit. “Please fuck me.” You moaned out.

“Gladly baby.”

“Is he almost here yet?” You asked your boyfriend, he chuckled pulling you into his lap. “Calm down baby, he’s on his way — you’ve never been this excited to see me.” You pouted. “Don’t lie.”

You and your boyfriend took a week to actually think about it and talk it through — this was a big decision, and someone else’s emotions were involved so you wanted to make sure you wanted it for real. “i’m just nervous, what if he doesn’t want to?”

“Should we find someone else then?” You shook your head no. “I want him and you only.” You said, he nodded patting your thigh. “Oh he’s definitely gonna love you, baby.” He kissed your cheek, just as the doorbell rang, making you hop up. “He’s here.” He laughed, tapping your butt. “Calm down, go answer the door.”

You opened the door, revealing the the boy, dressed in a oversized sweatshirt and some cargo pants with a beanie. “O-oh hi yn.” He stuttered. “Is lino hyung here.” He seemed so nervous; it just made you want to wrap your arms and comfort him. “Come in han-ah.” Lino called from the living room. You stepped to the side, letting him in.

You made some snacks, bringing them into the living-room. “Thank you, baby.” You sat down in lap. “No problem.” Jisung shuffled in his seat. “How have you been jisung?” You asked, he sat up straight, you smiled. “O-oh i’be been good.” You nodded, “Have you worked on any songs, lino told me you’re a producer.” He nodded, eyes lightening up. “Yeah a few.”

“That’s cool, maybe one day I could hear a few.” You said, “Really?” He said. “Of course, yn is a music executive at a company, she’s really good at her job.” You smiled at the praise from your boyfriend. “I could help you, give one of your songs to the higher ups of you want.” His eyes widened. “You would?”

“Of course, lino says you’re really talented, if it’s good, they’ll definitely take it.” He smiled; it felt the first time you met lino — yeah you definitely did like him like you liked lino. “Thank you yn, thank you so much.”

You left them to talk freely, going back to your room, to do some work on your computer, while they stayed in the living room. “She’s like a dream isn’t she?” Lino said, jisung nodded. “Sh-she’s really nice, I see why you like her.”

“I told her about us — well Felix did.” Lino said, jisung picked at his fingers. “H-he did, why? The boy questioned. “I don’t know, she wasn’t mad or anything.” The boy sighed of relief. “That’s good, I would hate it if I made her upset or feel jealous.” He spoke.

“In fact, she found it cute.” Lino said, “She didn’t mind at all, I think she might have a little crush on you.” He smirked, watching the boy freeze. “M-me? But she has you.” He said. “I don’t mind it, han-ah you know how I feel about you.”

Jisung shuffled in his seat, why was he telling him this — right before lino announced that he entered a relationship with you, jisung had contemplated if he should confess to the older boy, but atlas, he was too late. Jisung never got over his crush on the boy, but he would never disrespect you like that. “Jisung you know I like you right?”

“H-hyung, you have yn, why are you telling me this.” He said. “Because she likes you too.” He was confused. “Wh-what?”

“She’s been talking about you since the party, it’s cute actually — watching her go on and on.”

“Wh-what does this mean?” He asked, “Well that’s up to you.” Lino responded. “What do you mean, like being in a relationship with you both?” Jisung asked, the older boy shrugged. “If you wanted to.”

This was a lot for the boy to take in, you really like him — and wanted him to be in a relationship with you and lino. “Why me?” He said. “She thinks you’re cute, she doesn’t want anyone else.” Lino said. “Only wants to take care of you sung.” The older boy, got up sitting next to him. “Doesn’t that sound like me, maybe that’s why we work so well.”

Lino put his hand on the boy's thigh. “Both just want to take care of you.” His hand reached higher and higher — jisung gulped, his cock twitched. “I-is she okay with this?” Lino hummed before dipping into the boys' necks, kissing him lightly. “H-hyung.” The boy sighed. “Is this what you want sung? You want us to take care of you?” Lino palmed the boy through his hands, the boy moaned, his cock hardening.

“S-she’s in the room.” He said, “You want go to her?” Lino asked. “S-she’s busy.” Lino laughed. “She’ll stop for this; I know she will.” He pulled away from the boy. “Come on.”

You rubbed your temples, hitting send on the last email you had to send. “Finally.” You sighed — the door opening. “Baby?” Lino said. “You busy?”

“I’m done now, I just sent in the last email.” You said. “See I told you, she isn’t busy, jisung was scared we’d bother you.” Your boyfriend had that look in his eye. “Did he say yes?” You asked, they both walked into the room, jisung was much more reserved. “of course, he did baby, nobody could resist you.”

You turned to jisung, “are you sure you want this jisung?” You sat down next to him. “I really want this to be something we all enjoy, we all know he will.” You point to your boyfriend, who was already laying on the bed. “And I want you feel comfortable.”

He nodded shyly, “I-i do.” You smiled, bringing your hand to his cheek, caressing it, he melted into your touch. “So cute.” You pulled him into a kiss.

Lino watched you two make out at the door of his bed, it was surely a sight — watching you lead jisung, normally it was him who led you during sex, but it was sexy watching you take over — not that he’d ever allow you to do such thing to him.

“That’s enough both of you.” He instructed, you both whined, pulling away from each other. “Look at the both of you, panting and all worked up over a kiss.” He smirked. “Come up here now.” You both climbed up to where he was, you sat on your knees. “Fuck what am I gonna do with both of you?” he felt like a kid in a candy store.

“Take your clothes off.” Both of you were quick to stand up — riding yourself of your clothing, climbing back on the bed. “princess didn’t you say you want to take care of hannie here, how about you wrap your pretty lips around his cock?” You smirked, climbing in between his legs.

“Take out his cock pretty.” You obeyed, reaching for his waistband, pulling them down past his waist, his cock sprung out, hitting his abdomen, dripping with pre-cum. “Such a pretty cock.” You grabbed the base of his cock, kissing his tip. “She gave you a compliment baby boy.” Your cunt clenched at your boyfriends words. “Say thank you.”

“Th-thank you.” He stuttered, “good boy, take him all the way baby, make him feel good.” You relaxed your jaw, allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat. “F-fuck.” Jisung cursed. “F-feels good.”

You bobbed your head up and down, occasionally gagging on his length. “Oh my god.” He gasped, feeling himself about to cum. “You gonna cum?” Lino kissed the boys' neck, “You gotta hold it sung.”Lino knew he could barely hold it, he was aware of how sensitive he was.

You looked up at them through your lashes, the sight made you moan, lino’s mouth against jisung, holding the back of his neck. You took him all the way one last time, before he moaned out, cumming into your mouth, you pulled off of his cock, some of his cum staining your cheeks. “You came so much sungie.”

He moaned, pulling away from lino. “I-i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cum.” Lino scoffed. “Of course, you did, you’re a needy slut who only loves to cum.” His cock twitched in your hands at your boyfriends' words. “He likes that min.”

“I know baby, I know what both my pretty sluts like.” You felt your panties soaking at his lewd language. “Come here princess.” You climbed into his lap, sitting right on his hard cock. “Want you to ride me.” He slapped your ass. “Take my cock out baby.”

You unbuckled his pants, pulling them off, climbing back into his lap. “Fuck sung, her pussy is throbbing, you’re gonna love it.” He moaned, you took his cock from his underwear, hovering over his pink tip as you stroked it — sinking down. “Fuck min.” you moaned, his cock filling you up. “Such a warm cunt, move for me baby.” You began to slowly move your hips; he threw his head back.

Jisung on the other hand was getting hard again, his cock bobbed against stomach, begging to be touched, you took notice, stopping. “Did I say stop?” You pouted. “But jisung is all alone.” You whined, lino smirked, slapping your ass. “Don’t worry about him, just keep bouncing on my cock.”

Jisung watched your tits bounced up and down as you moved on linos cock, ready to reach for his, when lino grabbed the base of his cock, stroking it. “H-hyung.” He moaned, you clenched on lino’s cock, watching him jerk the boy off in front of you was such a turn on. “Fuck lino, i’m gonna cum!” you exclaimed.

“Go ahead and cum.” Lino groaned, “Fuck i’m gonna cum too.” You moved faster, squeezing your boob, clenching down as you came all over his cock. “oh fuck, you’re squeezing me -ngh- fuck i’m cumming.” Lino grunted, spilling his load into your dripping cunt. “fuck princess, get up.” He ordered.

He let go of jisung cock, “want you to ride hannie, want him to feel you pretty pussy filled with my cum.” You climbed off of lino and into jisungs, your boyfriends cum dripping out of you. “Fuck, sit on his cock, before it spills out of you.”

You sunk down on jisung, both of you moaning in unison. “That’s it, moan for me my pretty slut.” Lino watched as you both feverishly moved against each other, chasing your highs — you were feeling super sensitive, so it didn’t take long before you were screaming that you were close. “Hannie, you better hurry, once she cums you won’t be able to cum, we gotta give our girl a break.”

That’s what it took for him to cum, lino calling you ‘our girl’ — he hadn’t even thought about that part, the fact that he’ll be able to touch you like this, not only that he’ll be able to kiss you and lino whenever. His thighs shook as he came, filling you up more with his cum. “Sh-shit.” He cursed.

Lino watched you two make out for awhile, before ordering you both to stop. “Both of you need to get cleaned up, I know both of you can’t go another round, you’re both acting like bunnies in heat.” You pulled away, giving him a few pecks. “He’s just jealous.” You teased.

“Yah, you really want to show jisung how I treat brats, i’m trying to be nice.” You pouted. “You’re so mean, i’m just trying to be nice.” Jisung chuckled watching you both go back and forth. “It’s funny hannie?” He glared at the boy. “Don’t try and intimidate him.” You said. “Both of you better get up and shower, before neither one of you cum for the whole week.”

You both finally got washed up, lino giving both of you some clothes to wear — waiting for you both to return back to bed. “Hurry!” you intertwined your hands with jisung, walking out of the bathroom. “Calm down.” You said. “We’re right here.”

Han laid in the middle, while you held him, lino opting to hold his hand, watching tv. “We can do this whenever you want.” You played with his hair. “Not without my permission though.” Lino said, you rolled your eyes.

“I would like that.” You smiled kissing his cheek. “Good.” Lino turned to you, “where’s mine.” He pointed to his cheek. “Come.” He leaned over, and you planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good girl.” He ruffled hans hair — he was happy with you before, but now that he both of you, he felt complete.

“Both of you my good baby’s.”

©LUVYENI

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ereardon · 3 months

Text

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Three

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N grapples with her pregnancy; Phoenix alludes to a previous relationship with Jake; Jake is shocked to find out he's going to be a father

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

Your first thought when the test turned positive was what Bobby was going to do to Jake.

Your second thought was how sorry you felt for Jake to pull him into your disaster of a life.

Because that’s what you were. A disaster. Bob said it in not so many words and always with a compliment attached because the two of you were Southern and you didn’t outright flaunt people’s flaws to their faces. But it was no longer cute to be out of work and aimless.

Especially since you were about to be pregnant on top of all of it.

***

“Can I borrow your truck again tomorrow?” you asked, swirling a piece of spaghetti around your plate. The smell of the tomatoes was making you sick, but you refused to show it.

Bob nodded. “Sure. What for?”

“Job interview.”

“For what?”

“Librarian.”

Bob frowned, chewing his garlic bread thoughtfully. Then, “Is that what you want to do?”

You sighed, putting your elbows on the small dining room table. “I don’t know. I need a job. I like books. How bad can it be?”

He paused. “I can float you for a while,” Bob said quietly. “You don’t have to take a random job. I’d rather you find something you’re passionate about.”

“I don’t want to be your burden.”

“You’re my sister,” Bob said. “And I love you and I want what’s best for you.”

“I’m a big girl, Bobby,” you whispered, a tear springing to your eye. “I need to figure out how to take care of myself?”

“Why?”

You shook your head. “I just do.”

***

“Floyd!” Bradley clapped Bob on the back as the two of them headed back toward the training room. “You coming out tonight?”

Bob shrugged. “Not sure. Y/N is acting a bit odd. I don’t know if she’ll want to go out.”

“Odd?” Phoenix popped out of the corner door, shaking out her hair from her helmet. “How so?”

“I don’t know. She’s normally pretty bubbly, happy. She’s been sad almost. I think she’s stressed about finding a job.”

“Didn’t she go to Sewanee?”

“Yeah. But she got a history degree. And it’s more than that.” Bob poured himself a cup of tea and sat down on one of the nearby couches. “She’s aimless. It’s not that she doesn’t have a job. It’s that she doesn’t know what she wants to do or who she wants to be.”

“Do any of us?” Phoenix asked.

Bob frowned. “I’ve wanted to be in the Navy since I was six.”

Bradley nodded. “Same here, but younger than that. The first time I remember seeing my dad in his flight suit.”

From across the room, Jake added, “I’ve wanted to be an aviator my whole life.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “You three are so cliché I want to throw up.” Bradley laughed. “She’s twenty three. Don’t you meatheads remember what it was like being twenty three?”

“She’s different,” Bob said quietly. “She acts tough, but she’s still just a little girl.”

“Maybe you just see her like that because you’re her brother,” Jake interjected. Bob shot him a dark look. “What? I have sisters, I know how it is.”

“You have no idea,” Bob replied.

Phoenix raised her eyebrows. “How about I take her out,” she said. “Girls night or whatever.”

“That'd be great.”

She smiled at Bob, before shooting Jake a glare. “It’s a date.”

***

“So, what made you move to San Diego?”

You and Phoenix had exhausted the usual questions within the first twenty minutes of your friend date. What your favorite color was and if you liked Taylor Swift and whether or not Bob snored when he slept. You tapped your fingers against the table as the two of you waited for your drinks to come. The waiter shot you an impatient glance over his shoulder as he delivered a dish of calamari to the table three down from yours. “Spend more time with Bob,” you replied. “Change of pace.”

“What’s Tennessee like?” she asked. “Bob doesn’t talk about it too much. He talks about you, but that’s it.”

That felt like a loaded question from the way Natasha was looking at you. There were two ways to answer her question. You could talk about the mild weather, the hordes of bachelorette parties in Nashville, Graceland, how good hot chicken was, what it felt like to drive through the mountains.

Or you could tell her what she actually was curious about. Why Bob was the way he was. The fact that he had practically raised you as his own child, while being a child himself. That your mother was a single mom, an ER nurse by day, and sometimes by night. That more than once, Bob had been the person to go out to the store to buy mac and cheese and stir it for you while you finished your homework at the chipped kitchen table. How the two of you had become a team, united, from a young age.

“What do you really want to know?” you asked, leaning across the table.

Her gaze softened as she said, “How you’re doing.”

How were you doing? You were twenty three and pregnant out of wedlock, a secret that no one yet knew. Usually, Bob was the first person you told your secrets to. But this one was too big to burden him with.

Instead, the secret was weighing you down. A small, egg-shaped secret buried within your center. “Tell me about Jake,” you said.

Phoenix leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I told you, you don’t want to go there.”

“Humor me.”

She sighed. “Jake is Jake. He’s cocky. He’s confident in himself. Too confident. He’s a bit of a jackass.”

You heard something in her voice. “But?”

“But underneath it all, there’s a guy who wants people to like him. Who is desperate for it. That’s what you don’t see at first. It’s why he gets dismissed or boxed up as simply an asshole.”

“Did you love him?” you asked.

Her gaze found yours. “No. But I probably could have.”

You nodded. “What’s the story between him and Bobby?”

“That I don’t know,” she said as your food arrived. “You’ll have to ask your brother.”

“He won’t tell me. He’s weirdly coy about that kind of thing.”

“Then maybe it’s best you don’t know.”

“Maybe.” The smell of the chicken in front of you, which had sounded delicious on the menu when you ordered it twenty minutes before, made your stomach churn. You felt a wave of sickness running through your stomach, up your throat. “Excuse me.”

You dashed out of your seat, Phoenix’s voice trailing after you as you practically jogged toward the bathroom, bursting through the open stall and emptying your stomach into the basin. The wave of nausea subsided and you leaned back against your heels, wiping at your mouth. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty and you rested your head against your arms, breathing in for a moment, collecting yourself.

Back in the dining room, Phoenix looked up, eyes wide with concern, her veggie pasta cooling in front of her, uneaten.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

You nodded, sitting back down, draping your napkin over your lap, hoping to God that you didn’t smell like vomit. “Yeah, totally. Just really had to pee.”

Phoenix’s eyes were laser sharp as they scanned your face, searching for the lie. But instead of calling you on it, she turned her gaze to the plate in front of her and started eating.

Keeping this secret was going to be harder than you thought.

***

“Sure you don’t want to come?”

You looked up from where you were sitting on the couch wearing a pair of sweats, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you. “Yup.”

Bob stood in the doorway, frowning. He had on a button up shirt and a pair of jeans and boots, hair combed neatly, glasses crooked on his nose as always. You took a mental photo of him in that moment. Once he found out about the baby, nothing would ever be the same.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Go, please. Meet some girl, buy her a drink. Enjoy being a cute Navy guy for once.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “Text me if you want me to come home early, OK?”

“Go have fun.” You waited for the sound of the front door shutting softly before melting into the couch in an exhausted heap. You were tired all the time. And nauseous.

27 Dresses played in the background as you dozed in and out of consciousness on the soft couch. It wasn’t until the scene in the bar when you heard the doorbell ring, waking you from your light slumber.

“Fuck off!” you groaned, closing your eyes but the ringing picked up and you grunted, pausing the movie and pushing yourself upright toward the door. “What?” you exclaimed, tossing open the door.

Jake stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “God, you’re crabby.”

You stepped back. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “Can I come in?”

You frowned. “I guess.” Stepping back, you let Jake in before closing the door. Your hips pressed against the kitchen counter as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Well?”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” he asked.

“Like has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what is it?” Jake demanded.

“What are you doing here?” “I came to check on you,” he replied and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “Bob was worried. But he also was talking to some girl and hitting it off, so I said I'd save him the trip home.”

“And he let you?”

“She was pretty hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well I’m fine. So neither of you has to babysit me.”

“You know what?” Jake ran one hand through his golden hair before pulling it down over his face, massaging his temples with his eyes closed. “You’re fucking hot, too. But you’re absolutely insane. You sleep with me. You tell me to pretend it never happened. Then you jump me in the Hard Deck bathroom before running away. Now you act like you can’t stand the sight of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing here to be honest.”

Jake turned, putting one hand on the door. Your voice stopped him. “I’m pregnant.”

He turned, slowly, green eyes wide. Terror filled every inch of his beautiful face. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not a slut,” you snapped. “You’re the only person I’ve been with in six months.”

Jake was as frozen as a statue. You watched the color drain from his face. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing for the door handle, yanking it open. “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the California night. Your breath in your chest felt heavy. And that’s when you realized you were going to do this alone.

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @mycobrakai1972 @xomrsalliej4787xo

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nanamiya3 · 8 months

Note

Hello! As an SA survivor, I really appreciated your story with Naoya. My comfort character is Nanami and I was wondering if you could write something similar? Where reader has an anxiety attack bc of her trauma and finally tells nanami about it? She’s worried that he won’t accept her and nanami reminds her he’ll never do that. It’s a heavy topic so I completely understand if you want to pass on this! I appreciate your writing regardless so thank you for taking the time to write & post these stories :)

hii! i'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond (can you believe my last post was almost half a year ago :0) but thank you for the ask! i made this absurdly long because i love backstories but i hope you like it :)

nanami x fem reader (she/her pronouns used) - fluff & comfort - pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby) - wc. 7.7k

please note that there are mentions of SA (nothing explicit/graphic) after the little "exhibit" sections are over. if you aren't comfortable with mentions of past SA (ex: nanami asking if someone has "hurt" reader) please don't read past the little "exhibit" scenarios or don't read/expand the post at all :) again, it's pure fluff in the "exhibit a, b, c" parts, after that SA is discussed/alluded to

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

Exhibit A: The time you were an hour late to your first date.

—

“Come on, just trust me on this one!” Shoko exclaims as she pelts you with blueberries—your blueberries.

“Hey!” You glare at your best friend, snatching the bowl of fruit away before any more berries end up on the floor. “Do you know how much blueberries cost these days? They’re not in season right now and—”

“Blah blah,” Shoko sticks her tongue out at you. “I’m not saying you have to marry him.. It’s just one date!” She pauses, tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve been friends with him since high school… He’s a really nice guy, very respectful.”

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow at your roommate, laughter bubbling over your lips. “Very respectful,” you’re giggling now, “I’m sure he’s veryy respectful.”

Shoko groans, hands scrubbing at her face. “You’re unbelievable—I need a cigarette,” she mutters.

“You’re unbelievable! You’re a med student who smokes!” you cry out, flinging an accusatory finger at her.

Shoko just snorts, waving a dismissive hand in your direction as she pats at her pockets for her lighter. “I’m serious though, I think he would be good for you.”

“Sure, he’s exactly what I need,” you reply dryly. “What was his name again? Nanami something—”

“Kento,” Shoko chimes in.

“—Nanami Kento,” you finish, twirling a blueberry between your thumb and index finger. “I’m sure he’s a great person. But you know there’s a reason why I’m never home when your guy friends are over…” You trail off, shrugging as if you’re unbothered, but Shoko sees the way your brows furrow and lips tremble. “Plus, I’m too busy with my dissertation and research to try to have a life,” you huff, easing the tension with some lighthearted humor, popping the berry into your mouth.

Shoko rolls her eyes at you good-naturedly, waggling her brows as she tries to lift your spirits. “What if I showed you a picture of him?”

Two photos, a not-so-slick mention of Nanami’s height by Shoko, and a sworn testament to his upstanding character later, you fold.

You, 6:47 PM

hey! i’m running late right now, there was an emergency at the lab. can we push the date from 7 to 8? i’m really sorry :(

Nanami Kento, 6:50 PM

Yes, of course. I hope everything is okay, take as long as you need.

You, 6:51 PM

thank you so much! again, i’m really sorry. i should be there by 8 :)

Nanami reads your text, slipping his phone into his pocket as he sighs. He had already arrived at the restaurant by the time he saw your first message—it’s too late to leave and come back now. He takes a seat in the waiting area, glancing at the bouquet in his lap. Shoko had threatened to break both his legs if he so much as breathed at you wrong tonight—he hopes you won’t find the flowers too much for a first date.

Nanami thinks back to what he knows about you. He remembers the first time he was at Shoko’s place: you were nowhere in sight (much to the dismay of Gojo, who kept asking Shoko to play matchmaker for him), but Shoko just explained that you were studying late at the library. Every time after that, it was another excuse: Shoko’s roommate can’t come because she’s busy in the lab, busy at the library, busy writing her dissertation, busy running simulations, busy reading papers, busy being a TA, busy meeting with her advisor. He’s only seen you once while at your apartment, and that was because he accidentally walked into your room thinking it was the bathroom: You’d been hunched over your desk, back to the door, and Nanami had immediately walked right back out into the hallway upon his realization that bathrooms didn’t usually contain beds and desks, shutting the door as quickly as possible so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t even turned around by the time he was gone.

That was the first and last time Nanami Kento ever saw you. At least until last week, when he received a text from Shoko detailing your contact info and a winky face, phone lighting up with a call from your roommate moments later.

“Hello?”

“Kentoooo!!! Guess what??” Shoko’s voice is all high pitched and giggly, barely containing her excitement.

Nanami thinks he knows exactly what she’s up to. “What is it?” he ventures.

“My roommate just agreed to go on a date! With you!!” Shoko’s glee is apparent, even through the tinny speaker on Nanami’s phone. “I just sent—”

“I never asked her out,” Nanami cuts in. He’s frowning slightly: not entirely opposed to the idea, just hoping Shoko hasn’t gone and planned your marriage without his knowledge.

Shoko’s sigh echoes loudly over the line, and Nanami winces at the earful he’s sure to be in for. “I know,” she’s rolling her eyes now. “That’s why—if you would just let me finish my sentence—I sent you her number so you could ask her yourself.”

Nanami’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over before he asks, “Why are you doing this?”

Shoko doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re both losers with no lives,” she laughs a little at her own joke, then slowly considers her next words. “And… I think you would treat her well—I know you would be good to her, and she deserves that.”

Nanami can tell how much Shoko cares about you, from the way she spoke about you to the way she threatened to buy 51% of his start up’s shares and tank the company if he ever hurt you. Yeah, he really hopes you don’t think he’s coming on too strong with the flowers.

So, Nanami sits in the restaurant patiently, checking his phone ever so often to make sure he hasn’t missed any messages from you, smiling and telling the hostess he’d like to wait a while longer to be seated. And when you do show up—17 minutes earlier than expected—he’s all smiles and reassurances. You’re feeling (and looking) frazzled, apologies spilling out from your mouth like a dam let loose as you follow him and the hostess to your table. But Nanami’s the quintessential gentleman: waving away your guilt and apologetic expression, pulling your chair out for you, handing you the beautiful arrangement of flowers, pouring you a glass of water to help calm you down, insisting you call him Kento.

And though most people wince and attempt to change the topic when you talk research, Kento’s patient as he listens to your ramblings on the roadblocks you face, the students you have to teach, the lack of common sense in the lab. He makes a point to ask questions about your research, finding it interesting because you find it interesting, loving the way your face lights up when you get to describe the implications of your findings.

You hate to admit it, already hearing Shoko’s “I told you so!” in your head as you think to yourself, but Nanami Kento might just be exactly what you need.

—

Exhibit B: The time you spent 4 consecutive days with your head in a toilet bowl.

—

Shoko Ieri, 1:58 PM

dude, what the hell are you doing right now???

Nanami Kento, 2:01 PM

What do you mean? I’m working.

Shoko Ieri, 2:01 PM

what could possibly be so important with your company that you’d be working right now??

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

It’s 2 PM on a Monday… Am I not supposed to be working right now?

Shoko Ieri, 2:02 PM

you’re so fucking dense you would sink in the dead sea. your girlfriend has been throwing up all day and you’re WORKING?

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

Throwing up? What do you mean??

**Incoming call from Nanami Kento**

“Hey assho—”

“What do you mean she’s been throwing up all day?” Kento’s voice is tinged with urgency and worry. “Is she okay? Are you there with her? Can you check her temperature? I’ll be there in—”

“Dude,” Shoko cuts in, “Don’t act like you didn’t know. There’s no way you didn’t know—I mean she’s been hurling like crazy since this morning, and you’re an asshole for not checking up on her.”

Kento’s shocked, and still extremely worried, trying to just get Shoko to focus so he can make sure you’re okay. “I really didn’t know, Ieri, she hasn’t texted me at all today.” His voice is strained, concern evident in his tone. “Please tell me you’re at home with her—is she okay?”

“Well…” Shoko considers how to best put your condition so as to not cause Kento a heart attack, a little confused on why you didn’t tell him anything. “She’s been throwing up pretty steadily throughout the day and she’s got a pretty bad fever.”

“How bad are we talking? I’m driving over right now.”

“104 degrees… 104.6 last I checked,” Shoko winces as she says it, knowing how bad it sounds.

“Oh my god.” The absolute terror in Kento’s voice makes Shoko wince even harder. “Ieri, we need to get her to a hospital—this is serious.”

Shoko shakes her head, reporting dejectedly, “She won’t go. I tried a couple hours ago but she said she doesn’t get paid enough by the school to afford an emergency visit.”

Kento’s at a loss for words.

“She said she’ll be fine since I’m ‘basically a doctor,’” Shoko finishes bitterly.

“T-that’s not… You’re not… Y-you’re just a med student—that’s not the same thing—” Kento thinks he might have a heart attack.

“I know, I know,” Shoko sighs. “But, I don’t think it’s anything too bad. She isn’t throwing up blood, her breath and heart rate are both pretty stable, and she was conscious enough to talk back to me when I tried to get her to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Kento says as he takes deep breaths, trying to not think about you dying or suffering or—“Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll be there soon, then. We can talk later.”

“Alright. Drive safe—I don’t need another patient to look after,” Shoko jokes before hanging up.

5 minutes later, a stressed Nanami Kento is on your doorstep, rushing in as soon as Shoko answers the door, barely listening to what she’s saying as he moves towards your room. And then he’s inside, kneeling before your bed as his eyes dart over your figure, murmuring a gentle, “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

You blink your eyes open, trying to pull yourself out of that feverish fog blanketing your mind as you slowly register who’s in your line of sight. No… It can’t be. How did he find out? He’s not supposed to be here—you didn’t tell him for a reason.

“Ken?…” You rub at your eyes, sitting up with a whimper as a wave of nausea hits you square in the stomach. “W-why are you here?”

“Because somebody told me you have a 104 fever, and it wasn’t you,” Kento tuts, tone disapproving but eyes gentle.

“Ieri…” you mumble, shaking your head slightly.

“Ieri,” he confirms, shaking his own head—this time at you. “We’ll talk more about that later… Right now, I need to make sure my darling is feeling okay.”

Your mind is still foggy, but your lips quirk up into a small smile as you tease in a small voice, “Your darling is feeling superb.” You give him a weak thumbs up and cheesy grin. “I feel great.”

“Really? Because there’s a bit of vomit on your chin right now,” Kento deadpans, secretly relieved you’re feeling well enough to joke.

And then you cry out in mock outrage, regretting it almost immediately as you clutch at your middle, the outburst costing you a fit of spasms and pain in your stomach. Kento’s mood sobers instantly as he gently rubs at your back, asks if there’s anything he can do for you, adjusting the pillows behind you to help ease you into a more comfortable position.

“You should go,” you whisper as you reach up to grip his hand.

“Now why would I do that?” Kento asks, smiling softly as he feels your hold on his hand tighten.

You turn your face into the pillows, mumbling out a muffled, “I’m sick… and gross. I can’t let you see me like this.” You groan, turning your head back to look at your boyfriend as you caution, “And you’re going to get sick.”

Kento just smiles as he cups your hand between his own. “You never look gross, and I won’t get sick because I don’t overwork myself.”

You huff out a tired sigh, weakly swatting at the hands wrapped around your own as you slur, “It’s rude to torment the sick and dying,” and turn on your side to face the wall—away from your amused caretaker.

For the next three days, Kento—with the help of Shoko, (not quite) M.D.—looks after you as you miraculously manage to regurgitate every bit of sustenance you consume. He’s cleaned that metal “throw-up” bowl on your nightstand—meant to be used in case you couldn’t get to the bathroom in time—more times that he can count. He’s changed your sheets, helped you to the bathroom, and dutifully cooked light soups and stews, spooning them into your mouth before inevitably patting your back reassuringly as you throw it up into the toilet. Most of all, he’s poked and prodded you with that goddamn thermometer: if you had the strength to, you’d steal it right out of his hands and tell him to quit being a mother hen.

But Kento just can’t help his worrying. To take care of you, he’s been staying the night over, sleeping on that couch in the living room he’s definitely too large for. Even Shoko feels a little bad for him, watching him dutifully set alarms for every other hour so he can check up on you throughout the night. The two of them work in tandem to make sure you’re okay, combining the power of Shoko’s education with Kento’s sheer stress to maximize your care.

And when you finally come to—when the haze clouding your thoughts finally clears—he’s just as patient and gentle as he has been over the past few days.

“You’ve gotta stop overworking yourself, sweetheart,” Kento murmurs into the top of your head.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” you protest, twisting from your position on his chest to make a show out of the dramatic wink you send his way.

Kento groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sigh, helping you curl back up on top of him.

You giggle, breath fanning out against his collarbone, amused by Kento’s exasperation. “Thanks for taking care of me though, Ken. You’re the best,” you whisper softly, turning to pressing a kiss against his neck.

“Of course, darling,” he replies quietly, voice full of love. Then, louder, feigning nonchalance, Kento announces, “But if you don’t start taking better care of yourself, you’ll be on your own, and I’ll just watch from a distance and say ‘I told you so’ when you get sick.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me!” you pout, frowning at the thought of him purposely ignoring you.

Kento sighs, pretending to be upset, “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that.” He reports dejectedly, “I just love you too much,” practically able to feel your smile at his words against his skin. “But—” he leans down and tilts your head up to look at him, thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place to maintain steady eye contact. “—the next time you’re sick or in need of help, you’ll tell me directly.” His voice is serious, as firm as his grip on your chin and it makes you nervous, like you’re in trouble, eyes darting around to avoid his gaze. “No trying to hide it, no making me worry. I shouldn’t have found out about your fever from Ieri—you should have told me yourself. I don’t want you hiding things from me, especially if it’s about your health and well-being. Got it?”

You’ve tensed up against Kento, heart hammering in your throat as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. His free hand moves to soothe your back—trying to show that he’s not angry with you—as he drops his hand from your chin, eyes tracking the way you hang your head to avoid looking at him.

And then, after a bout of anxiousness, you nod, stealing a glance up at Kento to gauge his mood as you start, “I’m sorry, Ken, I didn’t mean to worry you.” You take a deep breath before you continue, “I just didn’t want to bother you. I knew you’d drop everything if you heard I was sick and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to take advantage of you like that.” You pick at a piece of lint on his shirt, avoiding catching his eye and aiming for humor as you add, “And nobody wants to watch their partner throw up, it’s gross. I couldn’t let you fall out of love with me like that.”

Kento cracks a smile. “Darling, if you think throwing up in front of me is going to make me stop loving you, I need to do a much better job of showing you how much you mean to me.”

You huff out a laugh at that, but he’s not done, cupping your hands with his own as he looks down at you. “And you’re never a bother, baby, ever. I’m never going to be upset with you for letting me know you’re not feeling well—and you won’t be ‘taking advantage’ of me by letting me know. It’s my own choice to take care of you and it makes me happy to do it.”

You’re looking down at where Kento’s hands are wrapped around your own, but you nod, letting his words sink in as you duck your head back down into the crook of his neck. “Thanks, Ken,” you whisper, trying to hide how relieved and emotional him saying that makes you feel. “That means… a lot to me. I’ll promise I won’t hide things from you anymore.”

Your boyfriend smiles, replying with a soft “good girl” as he runs his thumb along the back of your hand. He’s glad you’re opening up, and as you doze off on him, exhausted from your past couple of days and lulled to sleep by the comfortable silence and gentle caresses, he feels a surge of affection settle over his heart.

—

Exhibit C: The time you he won a stuffed lion at the fair.

—

Today is a special day. There are no papers to grade, no students to teach, no presentations or talks to prepare, and your research has reached a point where you can confidently take a few days off to rest. Naturally, you decide to optimize this golden opportunity by doing only the essentials: Scheduling a long overdue doctor’s appointment, deep cleaning your apartment, spending as much time with Kento as possible, going to the fair…. Just the essentials!

So—essentially—you’re at the fair with Kento, ignoring your ever growing list of responsibilities in favor of overpriced food and rigged carnival games. Kento’s already sporting a large tote on one shoulder, ready to collect all the prizes you’re eager to win.

Three hours, six stuffed animals, a pizza, two churros, a basket of fries, five rides, and a petting zoo later, you find yourself surveying the prizes on display in front of the cursed ring toss.

“Awww, Ken look at that one!” You’re pointing to a stuffed lion sitting amongst the prizes. “It kinda looks like you, don’t you think?”

The face Kento’s making right now can only be described as… distaste. “No… Love, I don’t see the resemblance.”

“No, no, no, look at the color! It looks just like your hair,” you exclaim, gasping and pointing once more as you realize, “Hey! It even has a little frown on its face! Do you see it Ken?”

“I don’t frown that often,” Kento says with a frown. “I’m quite happy when I’m with you.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, wishing he could have watched himself say that. “Sure, Ken,” you drawl, patting him on the shoulder as you get in line for the game, set on winning his lion-lookalike.

However, after 4 tries and an absurd amount of money, you decide to call for backup.

"Kennn," you singsong as you turn to look at him with big, pleading eyes. "Can you help me win this game?"

Kento's heart sinks, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he'd do anything to make you happy. On the other hand, if he helps you win the lion, he'll spend the rest of his days hearing "Awww.. Isn't he just so cute?? He looks just like you, baby!" about a stuffed, over-evolved house cat.

But, in the end, the little angel on his shoulder (with a voice that sounds suspiciously similar to yours) wins. As Kento steps up for his try, he half considers putting no effort in and losing the game just so you won’t be able to correlate his good looks to a stuffed animal. Then, he (or maybe the little angel up there) decides he can’t do that to you—it would just be too cruel.

So, Kento gets ready for his turn: rolling his sleeves up, passing you the bag on his shoulder, and sighing without meaning to.

His first try is a failure. Each of the 5 rings supplied magically bounced off the bottlenecks, frustrating him to no end. “This game is rigged, sweetheart. We should find something else to play,” Kento grumbles, turning away from the booth with an irritated expression.

You shake your head, insisting, “But this is the only game we’ve seen that has that stuffed lion!” Then, you bring out the big guns, clasping your hands together and widening your eyes, begging, “Please, Ken..”

Aaaand…. He’s a goner, always so soft and willing when it comes to you.

Reinvigorated by your pleading and determined to make you happy, your boyfriend sets out on a mission to win you that stuffed lion.

After his first try, Kento sighs so hard you think you might physically feel the wind from it tickling at your forehead.

After his second try, Kento turns to you and drops a sweet little kiss on your nose to remind himself why he’s subjecting himself to this frustrating torture.

After his third try, Kento runs a hand through his hair, readjusting his sleeves with more force than necessary as he squints menacingly at the table of glass bottles.

After his fourth try, you tug at his wrist, telling him, “You don’t have to keep trying, Ken. It’s okay.” You feel guilty watching him get more and more frustrated, but he smiles, patting the back of your hand as he tells you it’s okay.

After his fifth try, Kento looks up at the stuffed lion as he takes a deep, calming breath, trying to stay focused on winning the prize and not how annoying this blatantly rigged game is.

After his sixth try, you’re seriously impressed by Kento’s ability to remain calm. You practically had steam coming out of your ears with each of your missed throws, but he’s taking this like a champ—maybe you’ll read some of his self help books to learn his ways.

After his seventh try, Kento curses under his breath, beginning to lose his cool.

After his eighth try, Kento thinks it might be time to start believing in a deity: Maybe he would have won on his first or second try with divine intervention on his side.

And then! After returning to purchase almost ten consecutive attempts and officially creeping out the worker managing the booth, Kento’s fourth ring finally finds its place around the neck of a bottle!!

You jump up and down and clap in celebration, elated by Kento’s victory. He immediately turns toward you, excitement written across his features as he wraps you up in a hug. You’re giggling and pressing kisses onto his cheek, murmuring thank you’s against his skin as you both grin ear to ear—both entirely too old to be so elated over a win at the carnival.

And even as you tease him, holding the stuffed toy up next to his face in comparison, he thinks his patience may have just paid off.

—

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

That’s why, as you break down in front of him, he’s patient.

Just minutes ago, you’d been okay—you’d been more than okay. Seated on Kento’s lap, breath heavy as he scattered kisses across your face—moving from cheek to nose to lips to forehead—you’d been beyond okay.

Nothing had been too out of the ordinary: though Kento wasn’t a voracious and demanding lover, the two of you had shared more than a fair amount of kisses and “makeout sessions.” And you enjoyed these kisses, these “sessions,” but you also enjoyed keeping it at that, never progressing further than a few wandering touches and a lost shirt or two. Kento, always happy to follow your lead, to respect your boundaries, would never press further when you’d break away and ask to go to bed, to watch the movie, to cook dinner together.

Tonight, you planned on spending the night together at Kento’s apartment. Falling asleep and waking up next to Kento might be one of your favorite things in the world: his hair is always perfectly mussed, voice deep and raspy, and touch gentle and loving. You always wake up happy and warm all over when you feel his arm around your middle, breath hot on your ear as he murmurs a low “Good morning, darling.”

So, you show up at Kento’s place at around 6, a bag of groceries on your arm, just like usual. The two of you work together in the kitchen, each spoon feeding the other small taste-tests, just like usual. Dinner is a quiet, romantic affair, intimate and sweet, just like usual. After the wining and dining, you two curl up in bed and watch an episode of that show you’re slowly making your way through together, just like usual.

And when you end up straddling him, TV already shut off, fingers gently twisting in his soft, golden hair, Kento thinks he can get used to this being added to your usual. His hands are splayed out across your back, keeping you close to his chest as he smiles into your swollen, kiss-bitten lips. And when he starts dropping sweet little kisses—like a saint delivering small blessings—all over your face, who are you to hold back that little whimper in the back of your throat? Who is Kento to deny the surge of desire flaring low in his stomach at your reactions? His hands slip underneath your shirt, playing with the band of your bra as you squirm against him and tilt your head up to kiss him again. He moves further—further than he’s ever gone with you—and runs a finger along the underside of the waistband of your pants, brushing a knuckle against the soft skin of your pelvis.

That’s when everything changes.

The second you feel Kento touch you lower than your stomach you freeze up, jerking away from the soft kiss you’d been caught up in. Your eyes go wide and you scramble off of his lap, breath frantic as you try to calm the spike of panic blurring your senses. You’re trying to keep an eye on Kento—on his movements and expressions and demeanor—but it’s hard with how suddenly you’ve become overwhelmed and it makes you feel scared, the way you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do next.

It was just one touch, it’s okay. He doesn’t know, he didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to... It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s—

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay,” Kento tries to soothe you, but you look at him like you’re… scared of him and he hates himself for frightening you so bad.

What happened?

He thinks he might have an idea of what may have set you off, and as your breathing becomes more and more erratic, he begins to worry.

“Baby,” Kento starts, tone gentle. “Has someone ever… hurt you like this? By touching you?”

The way you flinch at his words is enough to confirm his suspicions, but Kento stays quiet, waiting for you to respond.

You don’t want to tell him. Your eyes keep darting around, nervous gaze cast down onto the blanket as you think about how you should lie—

But, wait. You promised Kento that you wouldn’t hide things from him, that you’d tell him things about your health and well-being. You really shouldn’t lie to him, not about this, but you really don’t want to tell him.

You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to say that it was your fault, that maybe you deserved it. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to start treating you like you’re dirty or shameful, like an embarrassing secret. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to get angry at you for not telling him sooner, because maybe he wouldn’t have loved you all this time—wasted all this time—if he knew. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to tell you that it isn’t a big deal, that you don’t have a right to be so upset over something like this, that you’re overreacting. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to ruin this peaceful little thing between you and him with your own issues and nightmares. You don’t want to tell him because—

Crap. You’ve been stuck in your own head for too long. The air feels thick with an awkwardly long silence as you scramble to mash together an appropriate response, but Kento’s patient and he waits without judgement, kind eyes filled with worry.

And you really don’t want to tell him, eyes welling up with tears because you’re stressed and anxious and not sure about what you’re supposed to do.

Finally, you decide to just lie, choking out a pained, “No—” as hot tears spill over your cheeks. You feel horrible and guilty for lying, knowing that Kento has never been anything but upfront and honest with you, but you’ve never been as good and brave as him so you let the lie spread its wings and shield you.

Your breath is coming out in short, stuttered pants as you try to fight the wave of anxiety attempting to drown you, hands coming up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your choked sobs.

You feel horrible.

You feel horrible for lying.

You feel horrible because you ruined the moment of fun you were having with Kento.

You feel horrible for this breakdown, even if you know you can’t help it, because Kento doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this baggage he didn’t ask for.

You feel horrible because being with Kento has helped you come so far out of your shell, but now it feels like it’s all been ruined, like no matter how much progress you make, you’ll never be able to fully heal, fully escape.

You feel horrible because you can’t get those memories out of your head.

You feel horrible because you keep thinking about the last time someone touched you where Kento did.

You feel horrible for ever correlating Kento and his goodness to that person, even if it’s just in your head, even if you can’t help it, even if it’s involuntary because you’re scared.

You just feel horrible. You feel horrible about everything. And when Kento reaches for you, moving to try and gently tug at your wrist, worried about your frantic breathing and the way you seem to be trying to stop your breathing altogether with your shaking hands, you feel even worse.

When you see Kento’s hand move toward your face, you flinch so hard you choke, gasping behind your palm as you squeeze your eyes shut, shoulders tightening up with fear. You’re so on edge right now and your vision is too blurry with tears to properly gauge if he’s angry at you or not, so you just figure he is. You figure he’s seen through your lie and he’s upset with you, upset for a multitude of reasons that just overwhelm you further. You figure that if your tears dried you’d look up and find an angry Kento looming above you, brows pulled low and lips stretched into a disgusted sneer.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kento gently murmurs, pulling his hand back, interrupting your self-destructive thoughts. “I need you to take a few deep breaths with me—think you can do that for me baby?”

Numbly, through all the noise in your mind, you follow Kento’s voice like a lifeline, nodding with an uncoordinated jerk of your neck.

“Good girl,” he praises you kindly. “Now I’m gonna need you to move your hands away from your mouth,” Kento instructs, adding softly, “Gotta stop holding your breath sweetheart, gotta let yourself breathe, even if your breathing isn’t quite right yet.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod again, dropping your hands from your mouth. But, once your hands drop, you stop trying to control your gasping breathing and begin to panic at the heavy heaving of your chest. Now, you’re breathing too irregularly and awkwardly: inhaling when you need to exhale and exhaling over your exhales and struggling to just take a solid breath in because your lungs won’t listen.

Because you’re breathing too rapidly, you’re simultaneously suffocating and breathing too much, escalating your panic. You’re scared and getting lightheaded and it’s too much—one hand comes up to muffle your mouth again almost immediately.

However, this time Kento is prepared, and his voice pulls you back to reality as he murmurs, “Ohhh, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is low and sweet and it makes you pause, instinctively wanting to listen. “I know it’s scary, but you have to keep your hand away from your mouth. Don’t try to restrict your breathing—there you go, there’s my good girl.”

You’ve tugged your hand away again, placing it in your lap as you blink up at Kento through watery lashes.

“Alright, sweetheart, now I want you to focus on your breathing. I’m going to take a few deep breaths and I want you to try to match your breathing with mine,” he says gently. “Does that sound okay?”

You nod shakily, panic ebbing slightly as you listen to his familiar voice and begin to follow the slow rhythm he sets.

“Inhale…. Exhale…”

“Inhale…” Exhale.

Inhale… Exhale….

“Good girl, that was perfect. You’re doing amazing, love,” he praises. You know he’s just being kind—your breath is stuttering and you’re involuntarily mixing up the inhales and exhales—but Kento’s reassurance makes you feel safe and calm regardless.

After a few more cycles of breath, the dizziness fades and oxygen begins steadily flowing through your lungs as you follow Kento’s lead.

Inhale… “Exhale…”

“Inhale… Exhale…”

Inhale… Exhale….

As you continue to try to control your breathing, you reach out to pick up his hand, trying to silently bridge the gap between you two, making the small first move to show him that you’re slowly becoming more comfortable and grounded. He lets you lace your hand in his, thumb comfortingly brushing against the skin of your hand, the touch gently reassuring you that you’re safe.

Soon, you feel confident enough to wordlessly move towards Kento, letting him wrap you up in a comforting embrace. Being in his arms always makes you feel better, and now that you’ve calmed down enough to realize that he’s not going to hurt you, you press yourself into his chest, searching for his steady patience and gentle manner. Your breathing has evened out, and your mind has cleared enough for you to begin flipping back on what just happened. Kento stays quiet, letting you sort through the cascade of emotions you just experienced, but the silence doesn’t feel hostile—it’s welcoming and patient.

You were kissing Kento, and then he.. he touched you and it freaked you out, and then he was talking to you and… And then he asked you a question. He asked if… He wanted to know if—

Oh my god. You lied to him.

Oh god. You need to apologize—own up to what you did and tell him the truth. But as you think about what to do, your breath begins to stumble over itself again and your heart rate picks up, anxiety taking over your senses.

Your eyes fill up with tears and you look up at Kento, saying in a small voice, “Ken? I… I lied to you… earlier.” Your words are continually interrupted by an emerging pattern of involuntary breaths and hiccups, but you continue on, “I… When y-you asked… S-someone has hurt—hurt me.. before… I lied to—to you.”

You’re fully crying now, and Kento tries calming you down, rubbing your back carefully, heart sinking at your tears and the way your breathing begins to turn into struggling gasps again.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into the top of your head, continuing to gently soothe your back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me—my brave, brave girl.”

Kento’s heart hurts. It hurts knowing that you’ve been hurt in the past, that you’re sobbing in his arms because someone hurt you. It hurts knowing that you felt too scared to tell him the truth, and it hurts even more knowing that you feel scared to admit that you lied. He wants you to feel comfortable with him—to know that you should never be scared of him.

“I-Im,” you choke out through gasping breaths, “‘m sorry—I’m sorry, so—sorry. I’m sorry, K-Ken.”

You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you need to be apologizing for something. Maybe you’re apologizing for lying. Maybe you’re apologizing for having been assaulted. Maybe you’re apologizing to try to appease Kento so he won’t be as angry with you for your betrayal—for not being the person he thought you were. Maybe you’re apologizing for not letting him continue to touch you—for stopping before you’re hurt again.

But Kento just shakes his head kindly, patting your back good-naturedly in response. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Shhhh, shhhhhh, you’re okay, it’s okay, shhhhh,” he coaxes gently.

“I’m sorry—sorry, ‘m really sorry f-for lying to you.” You keep apologizing, barely registering his words to you. All of your guilt from everything has cumulated, and though you’re apologizing for lying, deep down you’re apologizing for much, much more.

“It’s okay, darling,” Kento tells you quietly, ever so patient as you choke on sob after sob. “I’m not upset with you, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not angry, baby.”

His voice is so achingly gentle, and the way he rubs circles into your back makes your heart break and shatter. How can a person be filled with so much good? You expected anger and rejection, but Kento is being so accepting and sweet it makes you break down into tears. After being mistreated for so long, it feels odd to be embraced so wholly and kindly, and you feel like you don’t deserve to be treated with so much care.

Kento, however, is on a mission to make you feel better. He gracefully waves off your apologies, insisting that it’s okay, that you have nothing to be sorry for. Instead, he apologizes, bowing his head as he begs your forgiveness for overstepping your boundaries. When you shake your head vehemently, insisting he didn’t do anything wrong, he just scolds you gently, “You don’t need to take the blame for everything—it’s okay to give yourself a break. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry. I pushed you past what you were comfortable with and it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

That makes you go quiet, the silence split only by your uneven and choppy breathing—remnants of the tears still sporadically tumbling from your lashes. Kento’s apology is earnest, and his insistence that you not blame yourself makes you see the situation in a new light.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s okay for you to give yourself a break once in a while. Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong and you’re just so used to being told it was your fault that you’ve come to believe it. Maybe, even if he didn’t mean you any harm, he still hurt you, and you deserved his apology for the way it scared you.

You’re silent for a little while longer, but then you reach up and pat him on the head, fluffy strands of hair ruffled by the act of affection.

“Thank you, Ken,” you tell him with a sweet, forgiving smile. “Thank you for apologizing, but I don’t blame you for what happened. You didn’t know my exact boundaries and you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s okay, really.”

However, there’s still one more thing in the back of your mind bothering you.

“But… Do you still.. want to be with me? I mean, does it bother you that—that—” You break off, unable to finish your sentence.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, love.” Kento pulls back slightly, one arm cradling your back as the other moves to wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still the same person I fell in love with, and I’m not ‘bothered’ by anything about you. Nothing about this is your fault, and I would never treat it as such.”

You nod, relief written all over your face as you breathe out, “Okay, okay.”

“Seriously,” he huffs. “Where are you getting these silly ideas from? I would never leave you, especially not over this.”

Kento seems almost offended that you think he’d stoop so low, tapping your nose as he clucks his tongue in disapproval. You just shrug self-consciously, a little flustered by how sincere he’s being.

“Okay, then,” you sigh dramatically, scrubbing away at the last of your tears. “I guess I’ll have to just take one for the team and stay with you forever—since you’re obviously so obsessed with me.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You’re quite generous, entertaining this obsession.”

“Yup,” you confirm, waving a dismissive hand as you continue in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s your lucky day. I’m running a one-night special where I grant the favors of my fans.” A grin is slowly making its way onto your face, and your smile bleeds into your tone when you tease, “Don’t get too excited though—I know it’s big news.”

Kento has the most lovesick look on his face as he looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, I’m certainly one lucky fan.”

And you giggle at that, wrapping your arms around his middle as you snuggle into his hold. “You’re my favorite fan,” you mumble into his shirt, pressing your cheek against his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“Hey, does that mean you have other fans you like?”

—

bonus:

“What are you watching?” You ask, poking your head over Kento’s shoulder to peek at the video he’s watching on his phone.

He jumps up, shutting off the screen immediately, stuttering, “N-nothing, darling.”

You’re unconvinced, reaching for his phone as you squint at him. “Really? You seem awfully jumpy for someone doing ‘nothing,’” you deadpan. Then, you narrow your eyes, accusing, “You better not be watching extra episodes of that kdrama you said you hated without me. I know you secretly love it—it’s okay, you can admit it!”

You’ve got a smug grin on your face and Kento doesn’t even try to fight it as you enter the passcode to his phone (your birthday, of course), accepting defeat and rubbing at his temples as the screen unlocks to the Youtube video he’d been watching. He’d rather endure the teasing than try to wrestle the device away from you and accidentally hurt or scare you in the process.

“‘Helping Someone Who Is Having A Panic Attack,’” you read out loud, glancing up at your boyfriend as your eyes widen, grin slowly fading. You click on his watch history, jaw dropping as you see his recently played videos.

What Is A Panic Attack?

How To Help Your Friend During A Panic Attack

Signs Of Hyperventilation And How To Stop Hyperventilating

Best Breathing Technique To Calm Panic Attacks And Anxiety

What NOT To Say To Someone Who Is Having An Anxiety Attack

“Oh my.. Oh my god. Oh my god, Ken.” Your eyes have welled up with tears. You can’t believe he’s been researching how to help you—you don’t even have words to describe how emotional this makes you feel.

Kento has a sheepish look on his face, a little embarrassed you caught him binging those videos. “Yeah… I uh..” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just wanted to… yknow…” He shrugs, and it’s pathetic and lame and it makes you love him that much more. “Wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing… Just in case you ever get… scared.. again.” He coughs a little, looking self-conscious. “Not—not that I think it’ll happen again but—”

You cut him off before he can get another word in, practically suffocating him as you wrap him up in a tight hug. Your arms around his neck are squeezing, but Kento doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek as you whisper, “Thank you,” voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

—

if you've made it this far: thank you for reading :) please take care of yourself, and for all of my survivors out there, please know that it's not your fault, never will be your fault, and never has been your fault!! i love you all and i hope everybody has a great rest of their summer :D

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk comfort #jjk fluff & comfort #nanami fanfic #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen comfort

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yukidragon · 4 months

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Sunny Day Jack - Drunk Headcanons

First ramble of the new year. Whoo! I was considering what would be fitting, then I wound up thinking about all the drinking that happens at New Years’ parties and figured, why not go with some drunken headcanons?

Content warning: this post contains talk of drinking, negative experiences with drinking, being drunk, and maybe some smut as well.

Talking about drunk headcanons also gives me the excuse to break out the drunk Jack art drawn by the ever awesome Sauce, since it’s very relevant. Credit as always goes to them for their amazing work and for being cool with me using their art in my rambles about the awesome characters they’ve created.

Isn’t Jack such a cute drunk? Funny how he’s only drunk when MC is though… possibly. After all, pictures like these don’t technically count as canon unless they’re in the game or on one of the official Sunny Day Jack pages, which you can find conveniently listed here.

Speaking of, why not consider supporting the SnaccPop Studios Patreon? If you sign up, you’ll get to see all sorts of exclusive pieces of art and sneak peeks at the lore, as well as amazing audio dramas. It’s well worth joining, in my humble opinion. Just remember to please not share anything privately posted on the patreon. Reposting paid content only hurts the team.

Anyway, back to the topic of drunk Jack, and specifically the teaser art by Sauce that may or may not be canon still.

I’ve talked about this picture before, particularly what it suggests for Jack’s powers, how it probably means he can be influenced by MC’s hormones, and how much he might be affected by MC’s state of being and vice-versa. To summarize, I believe that Jack and MC can sense how the other is feeling, both physically and emotionally, but it’s not quite as strong as the other is experiencing it, and it can be blocked out or minimized. I’ve alluded to it in Sunshine in Hell, as well as some of my short stories, especially the one where Alice is in a lot of pain.

So, as this picture suggests, if MC gets drunk, Jack does too. It makes me wonder though if he broke character and drank alcohol, he could be the one to get both of them drunk instead? The possibilities of these implications, canon to the game or not, are quite intriguing.

Of course, we can’t talk about drunk headcanons without considering what kind of drunk Jack and the rest of the crew might be. As they say, drunk words are sober thoughts, and alcohol does lower inhibitions…

Naturally, it’s kind of dangerous for a yandere character to be drunk. Self-control would be lessened, if not thrown out the window entirely if he’s totally hammered. I think Jack would be a clingy sort of drunk, hanging off his sunshine, shamelessly needing their warmth and reassurance that they love him and need him just as badly. He’s also a possessive and protective drunk, not wanting anyone else near MC. He’d probably insist on carrying them around everywhere even while he’s stumbling, though it’d take one near fall for him to decide that sitting with them in his lap is the better option. He needs to keep them safe, keep them close.

If you think Jack can be clingy normally, he is like glue when drunk, or at least I think so. Even if he was dutifully staying home like MC wanted them, once the drinks hit him through their connection, he’s got to be with them, no matter where they are. Suddenly there’s a clown in the club or party checking to see if they’re okay and wanting to take them home, hanging off them like a big warm blanket while trying to convince them to go and keep them safe from anyone that might take advantage of them.

Once agreeing to leave, Jack would probably forget about any implications or issues that might arise from carrying MC in a crowd of people. Hopefully no one is sober enough to film anything that might complicate things when he’s whisking MC away off into the night. He’s certainly not in any state to really consider consequences.

Well, maybe if they’re lucky any such videos would be assumed to be hoaxes. There’s certainly no shortage of fake “ghost” videos online. Maybe Shaun could use it to promote an upcoming movie…

Of course, if the relationship between MC and Jack is rocky, his desperation is cranked up while drunk. He needs them so, so badly.

Worse, if MC is getting physical with someone else, showing them love instead of him… Jack might not be able to hold back his yandere impulses to make sure that no one steals his sunshine away. He’d certainly have a lot of work to do once sober to convince his sunshine that he was just protecting them from being taken advantage of while drunk, especially if things escalated to outright violence. The level of intoxication, and the intensity of the moment would likely decide how far things might spiral.

Of course, you know me and how much of a sucker I am for my OTP being happy, so let’s swing back around to the fluffier extreme. If MC and Jack are in a relationship, that’s when Jack is drunkenly telling them how much he loves them, and that they should just go home together. There’s not even a token resistance to hold back his true feelings for them. He’s already got them whisked up in his arms, kissing and murmuring sweet words of love. MC is going to have a pretty hard time talking Jack into letting them stay, especially when they’d be more drunk than he is.

Naturally, the type of drunk MC becomes would affect things. Since there are way too many variables there, let’s use that as a segue to how my MC Alice is like when drunk. She’s not the biggest fan of alcohol, disliking beer, and only drinking sweet flavored mixed drinks socially before the breakup with Ian. Even then, it was rare that she got drunk at all.

After the breakup, the idea of drinking scares Alice, especially to the point of being drunk. She almost died after all. As such, the only way she’s getting sloshed in the present day is if she’s unaware that what she’s consuming has alcohol in it until it’s too late.

It’s kind of a shame, as Alice is a giggly, affectionate drunk. She stops caring about people around them and just wants to cling to her partner, giggling between kisses, occasionally gnawing on them or licking them playfully and saying silly things. Ian got quite embarrassed by how overly affectionate she was the few times she got tipsy when they were out with friends, though he certainly enjoyed the attention.

Needless to say, when Alice got drunk after finding out Ian cheated, she was anything but giggly or affectionate. Though the less said about that the better for now. Let’s keep this to fun headcanons, shall we?

Alice is also affectionate to her friends when drunk, telling them that she loves them, giving big hugs and saying what she loves about them. It was very hard on Shaun’s heart the one time he was around when Alice was drunk. She glomped onto him and told him she loved him soooooooooooo much while giggling happily~!

Of course, it was cut into by Ian crying because he was also drunk and thus more sensitive to things, so Alice went over to reassure him that she loved him mostest of all. It was a hard night for Shaun to be the sober driver.

Jack would sadly not get to experience this side of Alice. At least, not under normal circumstances. Knowing she doesn’t drink and isn’t comfortable even drinking a little bit, the moment he felt her get drunk, his protective instincts would kick into overdrive. What if someone spiked her drink? What if they had awful intentions? Even if he found out it was an innocent mistake, probably even a mixup, he would still be very concerned about her.

Well… until Alice latches onto Jack, squeezing him tight in a big hug as she tells him that she loves him. Oh how his heart would feel ready to burst, especially if they’re not together yet at the time. He longed to hear those words from her for so long… it’s just a shame that she’s saying them while drunk. Still, you better believe that his tipsy butt is going to tell her he loves her too. That would send Alice into a fit of happy giggles as she snuggles into his chest, since, let’s face it, her guilty impulses are on full display and his chest has always felt so nice and soft to cuddle.

Jack would be struggling to hold himself back and retain some sense of sobriety, to not ruin things, but it’s so hard when Alice is being so affectionate with him. Yet, he worries that her love for him isn’t the same as the love he feels for her. This is especially true if she was hugging and loving on other friends when he showed up.

Of course, even while drunk, Alice wouldn’t be open to physical contact with just anybody, only those she trusts. Being touched by someone she doesn’t know/trust would result in her fleeing to her nearest trusted friend/loved one to hide behind them, maybe even insisting they protect herrrr, and telling the person who tried to touch her to go away! Shoo! Shoo!

Naturally, if Alice was drunk while she and Jack were a couple, it would be a very strange sight for anyone else there to see her cuddling up to thin air, kissing, licking, gnawing, etc. It’d be even more outrageous to see her scooped up into the air! Hopefully Shaun isn’t there to see it and have his heart broken further. Though if he was around while Alice was drunk, and he was still sober, he would be getting her to drink water and getting her out of there since he knows she doesn’t want to drink alcohol anymore. So he’d be stepping in to help her out until Jack swooped in to steal Alice away from him… again.

Speaking of Shaun, he strikes me as a giggly drunk as well. Though he turns it more into a performance. He’s talking about stories he knows to anyone who will listen. Or anyone who is not listening, since he’d be drunk off his butt. I’m talking grand gestures, booming voice, passion thrown into it as he cries over touching moments in a movie he saw, or what he was directing. Oh, his actors killed it in the beach scene! He’ll tell you all about it, then get interrupted by a different thought halfway through the story, probably something he thinks will be a good idea for another film that he has to scribble onto a napkin. Of course, it becomes a weird scrawl that’s barely legible and makes no sense, but it was certainly exciting to him in the moment!

Of course, Shaun enjoys a good buzz. It makes him want to purr, so it’s a good tell for when he’s getting tipsy. He’s very responsible when he’s the designated sober person, but when he’s ready to cut loose, he’s a tomcat ready to play!

While Shaun is a more bubbly and fun drunk, I think that Ian is the opposite. When he has a nice buzz, he feels pretty good, but when it goes too far and he starts getting drunk… that’s when everything goes downhill. This cropped picture drawn by Sauce makes me think that when Ian gets drunk, that’s when his guilt and self-loathing hits him hard.

Poor guy needs therapy. Also, if you want to see the full picture, which is very NSFW, check it out over on Sauce’s twitter. While you’re there, send them some love for all their amazing art and characters!

I think Ian needs constant reassurance while drunk, especially from his partner. He clings to MC and feels lonely even if they’re a foot away from him. He cries at the drop of a hat, even for silly things like how tragic that is that snakes don’t have legs. Why don't they have legs? It's unfair! He’s going to be needing help not to get dehydrated from all the crying and the alcohol, and his hangover the next day is a bitch.

Needless to say, when Ian and Alice were drunk together, it was a very mushy scene. Ian would be down on himself, then Alice would smoosh his cheeks and tell him to listen to her because he is a prince. Prince Charming! No one else is better. That’d get the waterworks going, and he’d cling to her, crying. She would then start kissing his tears away.

I figure this too also happened when Shaun was around because I’m very mean with the guy and his unrequited crush. Sorry, Shaun, but it’s just too much fun teasing you, haha. Don’t worry though, he’s going to find his own happy ending in Sunshine in Hell with a partner or two who love him more than anything else in the world. Eventually.

On that note, let’s move on to the final love interest, Nick. Nick strikes me as someone who is very smooth when tipsy, but an absolute mess when sloshed. The filter is gone. He’s got opinions, and by God is he going to give them, even if they don’t really make sense. He especially has strong opinions about bad BDSM. That popular book series they made a movie about called, what was it again, 500 shades of fucked up or something? That is not BDSM. That’s abuse pretending to be BDSM. Do you have any idea what that mess has done to the BDSM community and how many people have done stupid things because of it? And don’t get him started on what an awful idea it is to tie someone up with rope from a hardware store of all places!

I see Nick as the type to start recording himself once his inhibitions are dropped. The people need to know! His thoughts have to get out there! His followers need to know the truth! This is why he makes sure that he has to put in several passwords before he can actually upload anything. He learned his lesson that he can’t trust drunk Nick with his socials the hard way. The fans are still making memes and using clips out of context from that embarrassing old video. At least he bounced back from it by joking about it even if inside he’s still dying of mortification.

Speaking of a drunk with complaints, I had the image of Barry really unloading all his grievances when he’s drunk. Fortunately, he knows better than to get sloshed with any of his employees, but if he did, they’d have a hard time escaping from him insisting that he knows what’s wrong with the service industry and customers and how the hell did his latest marketing gimmick fail?! Can’t they see how cute the new mascot is? He paid way too much to the graphic designer! Do you know what artists charge nowadays? It’s highway robbery!

Since we’re going into employees of Yogurtopia, why don’t I touch real quick on the other people on staff who I expanded upon a little in my earliest headcanon posts? Things have changed since then of course, such as the boss having an actual name now. Needless to say, I’m not going with what I came up with for that post, but let’s do a little rapid fire mode with the rest of the employees I want to use for Sunshine in Hell.

Carol is a flirty drunk, which is a big problem if she’s actually in a committed relationship at the time and the person she’s flirting with isn’t her partner. Though I’m sure she’d give her partner permission ahead of time to have sloppy drunken makeouts and sex with her.

Liz isn’t really a drinker so much as a stoner. Though if drunk they would be doodling on napkins and finding the ceiling tiles fascinating.

Susan is underage and isn’t much for breaking the rules, so it’ll be a few years yet before she’d have to worry about how she’d be as a drunk.

I know I haven’t touched on these characters a lot, but I figured why not expand on them when I can, even in small ways. If nothing else, it should make it easier for me to come up with more ideas of what parts they could play in the bigger picture of Sunshine in Hell.

Speaking of my OCs, why don’t I touch on the rest of the King family while I’m at it?

Mama Lycoris enjoys herself a nice glass of wine with good company, most notably her husband, whose name is still undecided. (I’ve narrowed it down to Eden, Seb, Luan, Yuri, or Heliotrope. Picking character names is hard sometimes.) It’s rare for her to get drunk, but when she does, she seeks out her husband, even if she just lost track of him for being out of sight. She’s the type to do the meme where she’s crying while texting them that she misses them while he was just in the bathroom. Once she finds them, she’s crawling in his lap telling them how much she loves him~

Papa King usually is the sober one at a party, embarrassed by his wife loving on them when she’s tipsy. Sometimes Lycoris pretends to be tipsy just to get him flustered. They do occasionally have a glass for a special occasion, like toasting at his anniversary or a special holiday. When drunk, they’re a sleepy sort of drunk, pretty out of it and just off in his own little happy world. They haven’t yet been drunk before though, or even gotten tipsy, as he drinks very responsibly.

Barbie isn’t one for drinking, even socially. Though that’s probably not surprising considering she’s not a very social person. If she did get drunk though, she’d be a mean drunk, eyeballing anyone who looks at her funny and ready to jump into any excuse to fight. It’s probably a good thing she doesn’t drink!

Though, I suppose if Barbie was drunk around Bo, she’ll probably let her dom side out more, ordering him around and getting a bit rough with him. Good thing Bo is a big strong alpha and can’t get drunk due to being an AI, so he’ll be able to take care of his puppy even when she’s gone a bit feral due to alcohol.

Coraline also doesn’t drink, but that’s because she can’t due to medical reasons. It interferes with her prescription medications, so it’s probably best if she sticks with non-alcoholic beverages. If she did get drunk, however, she would probably be similar to her father, being off in her own little world, looking at things as if they were fascinating. She would probably be very keenly interested in holding Elias’ head and examining his neck stump up close, which I’m sure her poor groom wouldn’t quite be comfortable with. He would have to make sure to redirect her focus elsewhere until she sobered up.

Of course, I can’t just end things there. I haven’t gushed nearly enough about Jack and Alice having some drunk shenanigans in a more specific sort of scenario. It might turn into some writing, or it might not, but it’s my post, and I can ramble on longer about my OTP if I want to.

As I said earlier, Jack would be very concerned upon noticing that he’s starting to get tipsy. At first he would probably be confused as to how lightheaded he is, until he realizes that it’s because of his sunshine’s influence. The immediate order of business after that is to find Alice and check to see if she’s okay. With lower inhibitions, it would be hard for him not to worry that someone spiked her drink or something.

While someone spiking Alice’s drink would make for some interesting drama, and a target for Jack to go yandere on for taking advantage of his sunshine… I think I’ll stick with something more innocent for this post and say that there was a mixup with her drink or Alice was unaware something someone brought at the party’s potluck had a high alcohol content until it was too late.

Though if y’all want me to chase that darker and more dramatic plot bunny of Alice getting her drink spiked by some unscrupulous character, and Jack has to save her, do let me know~ ;3

Back to the lighter scenario. While it is intriguing to imagine how torn Jack would be if Alice is loving on him while they’re not together, and she means tells him she loves him in a clearly platonic way, which wrenches his heart… At the moment, I’m more drawn to how much of a cock block it’d be for him if Alice was getting frisky with her affection and turning Jack on, forcing him to hold back his urges and stay responsible even though what he wants to do is take her and fill her with his love until her legs are too wobbly to allow her to stand anymore. He might be tipsy too, but she’s outright drunk, and he’s not going to take advantage of his sunshine in an inebriated state!

Of course, Jack’s first order of business is to get Alice home. It doesn’t matter if they’re in the middle of a party full of people, he’s carrying his sunshine home. Alice doesn’t protest being scooped up by her boyfriend, just giggling in delight before peppering his cheek and neck with kisses now that she’s in range. She also makes sure to tell Jack how she just loves him so, so, so, so, soooooo much~!

Jack does try to be discreet in getting Alice away from the party. He might be pretty tipsy, and his steps a little unsteady, but he needs to protect his sunshine. He needs to take care of her, be responsible. It’s what he’s there for after all.

It’s just a little hard for Jack to focus on walking straight when Alice keeps nipping at his skin. Her giggling tickles his ear too, and it’s hard for him not to melt when she tells him she loves him and that he tastes so sweet.

Having a hardon would also make it difficult for Jack to focus on walking straight. Poor guy. Alice doesn’t think about what she’s doing as she keeps kissing, licking, and nibbling on him, her hands wandering and squeezing his chest despite him trying to gently redirect her attention. He needs her to stop, since he can’t focus, but at the same time he really wants her to continue.

The first order of business once they get back home is to make sure Alice sobers up with some water and food. By the time they’re home, Jack feels like he’s going to go crazy. Like her drunkenness affected him, his horniness affects her, and those playful affections become more lusty as her inhibitions are lowered and the idea of teasing Jack and making him feel good becomes more and more appealing. Eventually it gets to the point that she’s being much more blatant in her teasing, such as tracing his nipples through his shirt with her fingers. Maybe even copping a feel lower down when they’re at the apartment and teasing him about the bulge in his pants.

Needless to say, Jack would be having a very hard time holding himself back. It’d almost be a relief when Alice abruptly nods off due to the alcohol. Of course, he’d have to give himself some real relief, imagining what it would’ve been like if she had sobered up so they could continue. All the while, he’s also swearing to himself that in the morning - provided Alice wasn’t in pain from a hangover - he was going to pay her back for all the love and affection she showed him tonight in spades.

The next morning, Alice is indeed hungover, though not quite as bad as she would’ve been if Jack didn’t have her eat and drink something last night. Of course, Jack is kind and cheerful, endlessly gentle and supportive of her, giving her some painkillers and making her a nice, mild breakfast. She remembers what she did last night and is too embarrassed to talk about it, just thanking Jack for helping her get home.

Though past the embarrassment, fear would slowly build as Alice woke up more and it sunk in how easy it was for her to accidentally get drunk at the party. It was so easy for her to lose control… for something to happen… Jack picks up on her worries right away and reassures her that he’ll always be there to take care of her and keep her safe. He’ll always protect her and make sure nothing bad happens to her. He made sure she got home safely last night, after all.

Jack won’t ever let Alice suffer through anything as awful as the night Ian broke her heart ever again.

Some reassurance and cuddles goes a long way, and Alice is able to let go of her fear and embarrassment to just appreciate how much Jack cares for her and takes care of her, even when the unexpected happens. She melts into his soft and reassuring kisses that soon turn hot and steamy. Suddenly the breakfast dishes are off the table, and she’s the one getting eaten by her very pent up boyfriend.

You better believe that Jack planned to feed Alice then do the deed with her as soon as possible. The moment she shows that she’s receptive to his affection, he starts enacting all the naughty fantasies that he had while giving himself relief the night before, making sure that Alice is the one being driven crazy this time. He won’t rest until she’s begging for him to make love to her. Repeatedly.

Needless to say, if Alice has work that day, she’s missing it. Jack would’ve turned her phone off after sending a text that she’s sick, just in case. There’s no way Jack is letting Barry cockblock him again. Not after he spent a night getting blueballed by a too sexy sunshine that was too drunk to make love to.

Fortunately, in the light of day and fully sober enough to consent, Jack gets to enjoy every inch of Alice, as well as a nice memory of just how fun and affectionate she gets when her inhibitions are lowered. He also has a goal to strive for, to encourage his sunshine to feel freer with him like that when they’re both fully sober so that they can enjoy every second of their lovemaking.

Well, I think that’s a good place to wrap up these drunken headcanons for now. I hope you enjoyed the silliness. It seemed like a good way to start off the year, and it certainly would be a fun start of the new year for these two!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Sauce-y Art

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jeannineee · 9 months

Note

How about groveling with Azriel

Apology

Azriel x Reader

a/n: based on this bingo card. I made this a bit more humorous because I’ve got TONS of angst to write. Quickly proofread; sorry for errors.

warnings: none, groveling Az, and some fluff.

The look on Azriel’s face told you something was wrong.

The normally cool, calculated shadowsinger now stood in the doorway of your study. He looked nervous.

Azriel offered you a sheepish smile. “Y/n, baby—“

“What did you do?”

Azriel swallowed thickly. “I want you to remember how much I love you,” he said before clearing his throat.

You’d never seen him so nervous.

Azriel sighed, and the words stumbled out of his mouth. “I may or may not have spilled coffee on the book you bought last week.”

You blinked. Not as bad as what your mind had led you to think, but still…

“You mean the book that the library only has one copy of?”

Azriel nodded.

You rubbed your temples, standing from your desk. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,�� Azriel replied, shoulders sagging. “I know you were excited to read it.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek, trying to mask your disappointment. “The library has thousands of books. I’ll find another.”

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

The next day, Azriel had to leave with Rhysand for business with the Day Court. You’d spent the better part of your day searching the library for a book similar to the one Azriel ruined.

You had no luck.

Defeated, you returned home. You trudged up the stairs, prepared to plop on the bed, and reread your favorite series.

Instead, as your eyes drifted to your bed, you were greeted with a bouquet of flowers, and a new copy of the book. You immediately picked the book up, grinning.

You felt Azriel’s presence before he spoke. “The Day Court’s libraries are vast,” Azriel murmured as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He pressed a kiss on the crook of your neck. “Helion was more than happy to let me take the book.”

You hummed, tilting your head to meet his golden eyes. “And what, exactly, did Helion want in exchange for this book?”

Azriel chuckled. “If you’re alluding to what he’s been trying to do with Cassian and I for the last two centuries, you can rest assured that he let me take the book without any expectation of payment.”

It was your turn to laugh. Azriel’s eyes softened at the sound.

“I really am sorry,” he said, brushing his lips against yours.

You snorted, turning to face him. “You have more than made up for it. You didn’t have to do all—“

Azriel pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Yes, I did.” He took the book from your hands, setting it aside. He wrapped his arms around you again, guiding you back on the bed.

“I also have one more form of apology in mind,” Azriel whispered into your ear.

As he began unlacing your pants, you had the slightest inkling of a feeling that you wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #Azriel fluff #groveling

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jinkookspencil · 8 months

Text

one to seven | jjk

you're finally ready to get intimate with your boyfriend one day... but it quickly turns into seven...

pairing: jk x chubby reader (f)

words: ~6.3k

tags and description: fluff but suggestive 18+ (read note) / established relationship but it’s early on in the relationship / i hope this is clear in the fic but it’s divided into seven days and the first bit before ‘one’ takes place during the seventh day, then it goes back to one (the first day) and leads up to that beginning (seven) / probably could be considered slice of life but yn does go through some sort of change/arc since yn is insecure.... at first / one-shot / obviously inspired by seven by jungkook / as requested by this anon! tysm for requesting!!

note on the rating and label: i labelled this suggestive, but it’s really all about sex (since it’s inspired by seven) and yn’s relationship with sex, especially in relation to jungkook / with that all said, i wouldn’t consider this smut because even though it’s all about sex, it doesn’t really go into them actually doing it and describing sex in graphic detail. that is what i stopped writing. this fic has more of the build up and the ‘after’ - the time surrounding the actual sex. i think this is as ‘nsfw’ as i’m willing to go. it alludes to many different aspects of sex though (yn is having fun).

author’s note: these past few days, i’ve been quite down. jungkook made me smile more than people i know and needed in real life, so i’m always thankful to him, but i’m also very thankful to the community on here and the anon who requested. writing this kept my mind busy on nights that were otherwise heartbreaking and tiresome for me - if i didn't spend those nights writing this, i probably would have cried myself to sleep. so really, thank you. i'm so happy to have this community and the other requests in my inbox to work on and give me joy in the meantime. i needed this, and the fact that i hit a follower milestone on here (1k yay!) while writing this makes it all the more meaningful. thank you guys. i hope you guys enjoy reading this, please let me know what you think <3 💕🌻

The sunlight streaming in beneath the curtains wakes you, interrupting the pitch-black darkness of Jungkook’s bedroom… But your boyfriend’s arm, suddenly wrapping around your naked torso calms your aching body.

Just a week ago, you’d been too shy to be so intimate with your boyfriend. Sure, you’d been together for months, but that’s how long it took for you to finally get comfortable enough - and Jungkook, the angel that he was, waited. Instead of making love, he spent all his time proving his love, kissing you as you liked, praising you, making sure you were always comfortable and always knew what you deserved… as well as how deeply he felt for you. He never rushed, never complained - only pleaded to be kissed and touched in the ways you were comfortable with, never more.

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one

It was a regular Monday when everything changed. No sudden, irresistible ‘turn-on’. No sudden urge of sexual desire that overwhelmed your senses. Not even a sexy picture from Jungkook - those he loved to send just because it made him happy to do so (and to receive compliments from you).

But rather, it was a settling feeling of happiness and contentment that did it. A magical ‘you know when you know moment” that shook your entire world and made itself apparent… when he sent you an adorable selfie of himself in a frog hat at work with the caption "prince charming". As expected, he was still wearing said hat when greeted you at his front door with a wide smile and wide arms, and you pull the hat off of him when you tip-toe to kiss him.

This was home.

A hearty meal (that Jungkook prepared himself) later, you stop the movie you’re watching and move to touch your boyfriend’s cheek. “I kinda really wanna make out with you, Koo.” He wastes no time and your lips are interlocked in seconds. You place Jungkook’s hesitant hand above your waist, guiding his fingers to the hooks of your bra, but he moves it swiftly to tug at your neckline and kiss you on your shoulder, where you’d just begun allowing him to kiss.

“I hope I’m loving you right, baby,” he whispers onto your skin, pecking it once more.

The words broke your heart. Of course, he was loving you ‘right’. His efforts did not go unappreciated or unseen, especially after years of heartbreak and boys who saw you as nothing but 'beautiful on the inside,' fetishes, momentary and secretive pleasures, or simply not a girl worth sticking around for. Jungkook, on the other hand, was almost hard to tame. He praised you constantly, but never just your appearance and never just in private. Early on, it seemed that neither of you was into PDA, but soon enough Jungkook was mindlessly touching, kissing, and holding you in public - and you found out that you actually loved it. You loved him.

“You’re loving me right, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper back into his hair to reassure him, and you feel him smile against you.

“You deserve the world. You’re my world,” he says, breaking away to look at you and cup your cheeks, only for you to pull him closer once more, and he yelps when you return his hand where you’d wanted it. “Cheeky!”

“Jungkook, I’m ready. I'm ready to...,” you announce in a blurt, placing your hand on his chest.

“What? Hun, if this is about what I said, I didn’t mean-“ he panics.

“I knew I was ready before you’d even opened up your beautiful mouth, Koo. I saw the frog hat, and I just knew."

“Do you have a ‘thing for frogs’? Is that what did it? You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” he giggles. “Very funny. Let’s just kiss-"

“I want this, Jungkook. I want you. I’m scared… but I want you.”

Immediately, his eyebrows furrow, and he’s staring at your lips attentively. “What are you scared of, my angel?”

You’re unable to look at your boyfriend anymore, hanging your head low. “I'm afraid that you won’t like my body. I wouldn't have taken this decision if I didn't know for certain that you found me beautiful but... I'm still scared. Because what if you change your mind? I waited until I knew I wanted to be with you fucking forever, and… if you change your mind about me -”

Jungkook pokes his cheek with his tongue - and it’s so attractive but so damn nerve-wracking that you’re unable to complete your thought, the deep-rooted fear inside your head, and your voice trails off.

He breaks away, cupping your cheeks. “Look at me,” he says. When you muster up the courage to do so, he is already staring into your eyes. “I could never change my mind about you. What did I say, hmm? You’re my fucking world, and I already want that forever too.” He plants a soft kiss on the edge of your lips before continuing. “I know saying 'don't be scared' might not calm your nerves, but I mean it if that's what you're afraid of. I've felt your body, love. I've seen you a million different times and I think you're gorgeous every single time. I never said this to you before because I never wanted to pressure you, and I want to, you know, love you right, which is respectfully and the way you deserve, but baby… I’ve wanted to see... kiss your body for ages. Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about this? About seeing you? About making love with you? I want you - in every single way possible.”

"You've been so patient, and I know it must've been hard... I'm sorry, Koo," you mumble, tears forming at your waterline as you take a deep breath.

“Don’t be, my angel,” he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your forehead. “I want you even if sex was entirely off the table because I want you.

When you first told me about everything, it's clear you went through a ton of shit you didn't deserve. It makes me so furious but I’m glad you know what you deserve. Someone who listens to you, who makes you feel comfortable and safe, and loves you. I’m trying to be that guy because you’re the girl worth waiting for, baby. The girl worth a thousand, million universes rather than this world alone…. and I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you, deeply and truly, more passionately than he’d ever done - and you know you meant your words as well.

“I love you more than you can imagine, and I said what I said too… I- I want..you, Jungkook. I’m ready,” you say, leaning in with your breath ghosting his lips.

“Are you su-“

“I’m sure, Koo…. I’m wearing lingerie under these clothes,” you whisper with a giggle that he echos.

“Oh, my love….” Jungkook says fondly, inching closer towards you to kiss you once, then staring into your eyes as he pulls you into a hug and moves a hand to rest where you’d wanted it before holding your hand with the other, kissing your knuckles as he led you into the bedroom. But he quickly lets go. In a flash, Jungkook hurriedly dashes around his room, muttering to himself while lighting every candle he owns. “I need to make this romantic - my girl deserves ultimate romance! If I’d have known I would’ve gone all out, I would’ve… I don’t know what I would’ve done other than jack myself off beforehand at the thought of it finally happening, but - fuck, Jungkook, what are you saying? No, it’s good you didn’t tell me beforehand. God, you’re so hot for being spontaneous.”

Jungkook ends his panicked monologue entirely relaxed and only an inch away from you, his demeanor transformed, and your endeared giggles stop at the scene of it all becoming very real.

“Stop me whenever you want me to,” he whispers, caressing your face.

You nod with a smile as you sit back on his bed, taking a deep breath when Jungkook hovers over you and helps lift your dress over your head, leaving you in the new silky lingerie set you’d bought.

It was hard to ignore the excitement on Jungkook's face, of which he made no effort to hide. “My beautiful girl,” he says, taking in the sight of you before finally looking at your face once again and pressing his lips against yours, undoubtedly feeling the rush of your heartbeat with your chest against his and his fingers at your neck.

“Let me ease your mind,” he whispers, letting his hands wander to your hips, gripping them as he lowers himself until he is face to face with your waist. He was steady in his pace, still not rushing while he kissed your waist and up and down your torso with careful touches…. despite the fact that he soon tore your new lingerie into pieces.

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two

Jungkook wakes up beside you the same way he’d made love to you both times the previous night: slowly and gently. Vanilla, just like the scent you inhale on the arm he wraps around you, but passionate and caring in a way that proved your feelings about him, and his towards you. Just what you needed.

The love and care he showed you that morning, from the sudden morning fuck session to the following hours twisted in bedsheets grazing each other's skin, and the soothing, soapy shower you took together, were among the most blissful moments in your entire life. Refreshed and giddy, you meet Jungkook in his kitchen in just your bra and one of his oversized tees - the most naked or revealing you'd been in front of him, save for the night before and the morning you'd spent together…. There probably was no need to cover up anymore, you happily thought… until he seemed to notice your stretch marks.

“Next time, we’re keeping the lights on. How’d I not notice these last night? Or in the shower?” he asks curiously, pausing while plating your meal just to see the lines at your hips.

“You were probably too mesmerized by my beautiful eyes,” you joke, ruffling his hair as he bent down to inspect your marks.

“Way more than just your eyes, baby,” he giggled. “Do you have them anywhere else? I think I see some on your thighs.”

“Yeah and on my stomach too. They’re all over,” you say, showing him, before finally dropping the question on the tip of your tongue. “Are they… a turn-off?”

“A turn-off? Not in the slightest. Why would they be?” he questions curiously.

“People don’t usually like em,” you say, grabbing Jungkook’s arm. “My skin isn’t ‘picture perfect.”

“It’d be boring if it is. Mine isn’t. Look at the arm you’re holding, babe. I added tattoos so my skin wouldn’t be picture-perfect, baby. Except your markings are entirely your own, and hey, the way they look like roots? It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? Wow.”

You kiss his lips immediately, tasting the berries he’d whipped up into your smoothies - but the breakfast was quickly forgotten. Jungkook places you onto the kitchen counter instead, tracing and kissing every mark on your body so lovingly with the daylight shining onto you…. and you’d discovered that Jungkook ate everything with passion and furrowed brows.

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three

Though you’d been spending days with Jungkook already, Wednesday was the day you had a planned date - one that was actually outside, after the back-to-back days spent intertwined all around his apartment.

A knock was at your door just as you were putting on the final touches to your outfit - a dainty set of gold jewelry - and you were still fiddling with the earring when you answered.

Jungkook showed up at your place to pick you up, dressed in a grey, collared shirt with a striped tank top underneath - adorable enough to drive you crazy - but more importantly, he’d shown up with a heartwarming bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and a picnic basket in the other - but he drops both at the sight of you.

“Oh baby,” are the first words Jungkook says, rushing in to pull you into a kiss. “Can we forget about the picnic? This… this is my fantasy.” His finger skim over the cotton fabric at your hips, scrunching up the fabric over your thighs.

“It’s forgotten,” you reply, letting his hand wander. “Tell me all your fantasies, Kook.”

“You, my dream girl. You’re my fantasy….. and fucking said dream girl - you - in a sundress… oof. This was… This always was….”

A laugh escapes you and a feeling of comfort floods your senses, seeing marvel on Jungkook’s face as he studied the floral dress that lay on your body. Neither of you bothered to move about the apartment for a while, kissing, touching, and more then and there behind the front door, until Jungkook pulled his hand from within your underwear to tug the dress off your body, revealing your sheer slip underneath.

“No fucking way,” he sighs, placing his hand behind you, fingers digging into your plush thighs and swiftly lifting you in his hands. With Jungkook still kissing your clavicle and ignoring your fearful, pleased shrieks, you have no choice but to comply, wrapping your legs around him and edging closer to his body, giggling as Jungkook rushes to the couch.

“Ride me? Ride me in this, pretty?” he pleads, kissing your neck once more before already leaning back.

“I’m scared, my love. What if I crush you?” you say, skimming his abs.

“Oh, wait - there’s another fantasy,” he proclaims with a smirk. “I’ll be fine. If you’ve crushed exes in the past, I’m actually jealous. though they probably weren’t strong enough.”

“No one ever wanted me on top, JK… but I guess you're strong enough since no one ever carried me like that before.”

“Fucking weak ass idiots. I don’t want to think about that now. I want you on top of me… in this pretty little dress that lets me see… everything,” he gasps, cupping your breast over the fabric before quickly adding, ”…if you’re okay with it.”

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you say as you help undress him.

“You could never.”

You could never forget the whimpers and the laughs you’d heard from Jungkook that evening, both when you’d asked him the same question. “Am I doing okay?” in the heat of the moment, was met with an ineligible whimper you’d heard for the very first time from Jungkook, who could only respond as such for minutes.

“Fuck, yes, you— you’re doing so good, baby,” he let out, continuously praising you afterwards, even until you asked the question again.

“Was that okay?” you ask him breathlessly when it was all over. He burst into a laugh, and if he hadn’t held onto your body so tightly, you’d have thought he was laughing at you.

“Okay? OKAY?! Honey…,” he starts, placing soft kisses on your skin as he talks. “Let me explain…This angle was… the way I could see you... your body...… and what you were doing to me. Oh, what did you do to me?! The way you wrapped around me, the way you rode… It was just right. And the fact that it’s your first time in that position? Then you pinned me down and I lost myself, I really did. You’re not a mortal human. You’re a witch. Some sex witch. That’s what you are - and you took my soul pleasuring me like that. No… no human woman could ever ride that way… that well. I’ve never felt that good… ever.”

Finally reassured, you wrap your arm around his tattooed one. “My spell worked! I’m glad you felt so good, baby.”

Jungkook sits upright, holding your hand. “Wait, did you feel okay? How was it for you?”

At that, you grab one of your nearby pillows to cover half your face, your shyness returning merely to answer his question honestly. “Jungkook… I know you’re big, but I’ve never felt you that deep before.”

“And? Does it hurt?” he asks with wide, concerned eyes that briefly trail down your sweaty body and how the fabric clung onto it even more.

“A bit,” you admit, throwing the pillow aside. “But it was… very good and very fun once I got over the scare and saw that you seemed to be enjoying yourself, playing with my tummy and tits and all, lifting me up a little too….” You trace his arms, hesitantly finishing the rest of your thought. “And then your hands stayed at my hips and ass. Albeit I missed the beginning, but god, was it heavenly - with your moans and the way you looked so helpless, in awe... pleased... because of me…. I kinda liked seeing you under me then, I liked having that….,” you pause, holding Jungkook’s face in your hands. “To have that control over you. To see you moan like that because of me. It was fun, baby. I wanna ride you again.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing again, and even harder when you nod eagerly.

“Oh, baby… You’re in for way more fun than you ever imagined.”

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four

Jungkook reluctantly left your apartment the next day and kept his promise to return by bedtime. But when he shows up at your door at midnight, entirely devoid of color, you’re concerned.

“I know I look like shit, and I do feel like shit, but I’m okay,” he says instantly, quickly explaining that because he’d been spending his days and nights with you, he’d barely had time to go to the gym, so he’d crammed in an intense session before the planned picnic the day before and spent hours boxing after leaving you that next morning.

“Couldn’t you have told them you’re doing enough cardio with me?” you joke, poking his arm, but Jungkook winces through his smile and grazes where you’d touched him - this was the most he’d do to admit that he was so sore.

You wrap your arms around your boyfriend to envelope him in a tight hug, and he does the same, squeezing your soft body and letting out a moan as he does so. “This feels so good. So cozy.”

“Then it’s just cuddles for you today, baby,” you say, rubbing his back and tapping his ass gently. “I’ll go change out of all this lingerie I’m wearing underneath.”

“No, no, no,” Jungkook pouts, shaking his head, nudged in the crook of your neck, as he begins to tug at the hem of your shirt. “My body is still strong, I promise. You proved that you’re not a mere mortal - I’m the same! I won’t let my physical human-appearing body stop me - wait, don’t learn this lesson from me, by the way. You have to tell me whenever you’re in pain, okay?”

“Okay,” you groan.

“Are you still in pain, actually? From all the riding?” Jungkook says teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows, with his hand softly resting on your stomach.

"Yeah, a little - especially this morning. But it’s like my body craves you so much that it basically got over it by nightfall… that doesn’t mean you’re not sore, though, Koo.”

“Please, baby,” he protests, kissing you. “I want you. It’ll help me forget the pain…. Do you really have lingerie under there?”

You allow Jungkook to pull up your top to see your breasts, held just right in pink lace.

“Fucking hell,” he says, rushing to take your top off when you let it drop over your body. “Please tell me you’re down to fuck.”

“Jungkook!” you yelp, pushing your boyfriend’s ticklish fingers aside until you’re able to hold his hands. “You’re in pain, and you’ve been making me feel better all week, baby… Let me do the same for you, hmm? Please?”

Jungkook cocks his brow as a reflex but doesn’t move. He lets you caress his face and kiss him deeply before leading him into the bedroom. He doesn’t say anything beyond quiet gasps of amazement when you begin undressing, down to your lingerie, nor does he say anything when you take off his clothes for him and push him onto the bed...until you let your hand skim down his torso...

“I can fuck, I promise,” Jungkook says in a panic. “Fuck… Are you su…?”

Looking up, you see anticipation in his eyes, his gaze flickering between himself and your salivated lips. You’ve never done this to him before. Surely, he’d been wanting it, and still, he never rushed you… It’s best you hurry up to it.

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say. “Let me swallow your damn pride.”

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five

It was no lie you’d blushed often after your first night together - merely days ago - and though you’d had each other a number of times since, Jungkook kissed every inch of your face every time it flushed in the slightest. It was only natural for you to do the same to him when he spent the entire morning after your fourth night together flustered.

“You told me not to be shy, and now you’re going all red?” you giggle, kissing your boyfriend’s red ear.

“I can’t help it,” he says, touching where you’d kissed him. “My girlfriend is a fucking sex witch… Wh-where did you learn to do that?”

“The noises you made were a pretty good indication of how you like it,“ you say, letting your hand trail down his chest.

“…God you sound so fucking cocky right now, and it’s turning me on even more”, he groans, his hand resting over yours but letting you lead the way rather than guiding it himself.

“So…. you liked it, huh? Me taking control a little?”

“A little? Hun….” he trails off, so you kiss his forehead. “Can you….” He fiddles with his fingers and his face flushes again, so you kiss his lips. “Aish....” he giggles, trapping your arms to finish his sentence in peace. “Baby, can you…. Can you boss me around again tonight?”

“You want me to dominate you?” you ask, taken aback.

A wide smirk appears on Jungkook’s face.

Such a request proved to be a night for your classic black lace lingerie set, with matching robe and dark lipstick… but Jungkook smiles too innocently when you enter the dimly lit bedroom, looking as such.

“I can’t be all bossy if you look at me like that, Koo.”

“I can’t change my round face and round eyes, baby… but then again, I thought you couldn’t switch up your ‘sweet, innocent girl’ persona until yesterday,” he smiles.

You roll your eyes. “Keep saying more things like that. That’ll make it easier to dominate you. I’m not so innocent, you know?”

“Oh, I know. I was there last night.”

“I have no idea how to go about this,” you admit, shoulders dropping in front of your boyfriend. “Tell me what to do.”

“No - you tell me what to do. Boss me around a little. No ‘please’. No pet names for now. Just commands. Tell me exactly what you want. What you want me to touch. What you want me to do What you want me to say. I'll help, and the instructions will help me please you just the way you like it in the future.”

“And if you get uncomfortable?”

“We have the safe word.”

A final kiss and nod of reassurance give you all you need to go on.

Trying it out, you manhandle your incredibly strong boyfriend until his arm wraps around your waist, his left hand resting just where you wanted it at your hip, while you guide the other hand to your heat. Already, you’re electrified by the control and decide to prolong this for as much as possible…. Might as well have some fun...

“First things first….” You say, backing away to lie on the bed and gently pushing Jungkook off when he follows, so he still stands in front of you, waiting. “Strip. To that song from your Calvin Klein ad.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jungkook was a smartass. He clearly didn’t mind being bossed around for a little - the ‘clear instructions’ did help him, and he seemed to be enjoying every minute of it, as he’d claimed - but when you’d tapped out from it all at dawn, there was not only amusement behind the smile on his face, but pride as well.

“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing your hand when you were both ready to pass out. “Oh, I worship you.”

The little brat knew the effect it’d have on you, and you didn’t wait until the next morning to call him out on it.

“Did you want me to take control because you thought it’d make me more confident?” you ask while Jungkook cleans you up, and he smiles at your question.

“If you feel that way, it’s all you, baby,” Jungkook says, kissing your body. “Is that how you feel?”

“I feel… powerful,” you admit.

A moan promptly escapes Jungkook at your words, and his kisses grow hungrier, finally meeting your lips and letting out another noise when you tug at his lips. Jungkook only breaks away to look into your eyes and sigh in adoration before kissing you once more.

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six

The night made you feel like a whole new woman. And you were ready for more, too, feeling the urge to grab Jungkook the moment you wake up…. but you soon realize you had his bed to yourself. Seeing the messy sheets and his hairbrush tossed onto the mattress, you briefly recall being nudged awake at noon and him muttering some words about a sudden work meeting. A Post-It note tacked onto the bedside table backed up the fact with a short message in Jungkook’s handwriting.

“Baby - Got called into the company. I’ll be there til 7 at least. Text me when you’re awake. I love you.”

Washing up didn’t do anything to wash away the urge to have Jungkook once more - if anything, it only prolonged your steaming shower. Wrapped up in a robe with nothing to do in your boyfriend’s apartment on a quiet Saturday, you get an idea.

Risque pictures were never something you’ve done before, and an hour passes by the time you’re comfortable with the ones you’ve taken. Looking through your camera roll, you weave through and delete awkward photos until you were left with a variety of shots that left you surprised by how hot you’d looked, whether you were entirely bare or with the lingerie you’d worn the night prior.

Though it’d been the afternoon and a long while since you’d woken up, you send the photos to Jungkook.

you🌻 [5:01pm]: “good morning baby :)” (5 attachments)

A text arrives a minute later.

jk💕💫 [5:06pm]: “Oh fuck.”

jk💕 💫[5:09pm]: “what have i done”

jk💕💫 [5:09pm]: “what have YOU done”

you🌻 [5:13pm]: “well besides take the photos, i took a very, very long, very hot shower… since you’re not here. hope you’re having fun at work xx”

No texts arrive while you lounge around the apartment in one of Jungkook’s T-shirts, reveling in the image of him being hot and bothered for you during some meeting … but close to an hour later, you hear the familiar beeps of the keypad at Jungkook’s front door.

Your boyfriend storms through the door with furrowed brows and a stern look, his jacket thrown aside and his shirt already off of him and discarded by the door. Somehow, he manages to squiggle out of his trousers on his way to you, and he’s naked save for his boxers by the time he gets to you on the couch - which all took mere seconds.

“Jungkook!” you squeal with joy when he lunges at you, biting your neck and quickly taking off the t-shirt you were wearing. His bites resume at your clavicle and above your chest, which he aggressively holds in his hands, tutting at the fact that you hadn’t worn any underwear or a bra underneath it. But his fingers move to the small of your back, forcefully pushing your hips upwards and towards him while he wedges his leg between your thighs.

“Brat,” he whispers. “Missed me, huh?”

“You’re one to talk. What happened to staying til 7?” you quickly ask.

“Fuck that,” he says, continuing to kiss you, but soon you’re unable to let go of a nagging worry.

“Baby,” you stop him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I don’t want the boys to hate me. I don’t want to be the reason you’re missing work.”

“You’re saying this now? After you sent me the sluttiest photos I’ve ever seen in my life? While knowing I was at work? And right before the fucking we were going to do because of said photos?” Jungkook asks with raised brows, but you feel his shoulders slouch, and he squeezes between his eyebrows before his hands stroke your arms.

“Baby, it’s fine. I guess I have something to say about it, too. Taehyung hyung…… fuck… he accidentally saw the photos. I was so distracted and obviously aroused by your nudes that I just stared into my phone for a damn while. He was sitting right beside me and peeked. Since I gave him an earful for not looking away until I caught him, he’s apologizing by covering for me. I’m sorry he ever saw it, baby. And for what it’s worth, they all told me they love you already - apparently, I’ve never been so giddy. They can’t wait to meet you, honey….So even though it’s unfortunate that he saw it… at least we get to fuck, mm?”

Smiling, you hold Jungkook’s hands in yours and kiss him quickly. “So… Taehyung didn’t look away, huh?”

Jungkook’s jaw drops, and for the first time in your relationship, he looks genuinely irritated. “And why do you care?”

“I like knowing I’m sexy, boo,” you say, leaning back on your hands. Jungkook seemed to be just as you expected and hoped him to be - the jealous type. “Aren’t you proud to have such a hot girlfriend? One the guys are so jealous of?”

Jungkook’s eyes turn feral, and suddenly, he lunges at you with the same hunger he’d met you with earlier. His lovebites on your neck and shoulders are sure to leave very visible marks, and you couldn’t be happier.

Suddenly, he whips his head up, his nose brushing yours, while his fingers wrap around your neck, grazing over where his mouth had been.

“Listen to me, brat,” he says, obviously resisting the smirk that appears on his face when he catches your knowing, anticipating glare. “I think I let you have too much fun, hmm?”

You nod, slowly, and his fingers tighten around your neck while his other hand finds your chin.

“Don’t you ever forget: I’m yours.”

The both of you try to catch your breath, and Jungkook realizes that tears are streaming down your face before you do. His behavior stops at once.

“Baby? Baby, what happened? Did it hurt? Was I too much? I’m sorry,” he says with a croak in his voice, kissing your wet cheeks.

Your angel - though minutes ago, it seemed as though Jungkook had transformed into your own personal sex demon, torturing you with endless, repetitive, fiery bouts of pleasure. It felt too good - why were you crying?

“Jungkook, no,” you let out, catching your breath. “No, it was… electric. Can you cry from feeling too good?”

He lets out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arm around your sweaty waist. “I’ve read once that it can happen to some people, yeah. I’m just glad to know you’re okay.”

“Angry sex hits different I guess,” you say. peeking at Jungkook through your periphery. His eyes seem to be wet too.

“I still haven’t forgotten what you said, you know?” he says, bringing his leg up to wrap around your thighs in a cuddle. “Are you really happy that Tae saw your photos? You want him to think you’re hot? Do you think he's hot?”

“I don’t care at all, my love,” you say, softly scratching Jungkook’s scalp and seeking his gaze. “I just had an urge. To fuck or be fucked angrily - but the thing is, you never get angry. I figured jealousy might do the trick, but… it was childish, and I didn’t mean what I said in the slightest - so I’m sorry.” Jungkook remains silent, tracing the marks on your stomach in thought, so you go on.

“You fuck me passionately enough, Koo - too passionately, even - if that’s what you’re wondering. I guess what I said is only half the truth. I knew it might work because I get jealous over you, too, you know? I get angry. Sure, it’s rare nowadays since you’re always there for me and make my world happier and calmer…. but I guess I buried my anger and jealousy, how pent up I can sometimes get seeing other girls - models, idols, staff, fans… everyone - they ogle you and visibly want you for themselves… and I won some cosmic lottery because you’re you and you’re mine! Naturally, I get worried. Jealous.”

He takes a deep breath, and you quickly whisper an afterthought. “I hoped you felt the same way about me. That I’m yours.”

Jungkook sits up, grazing your hair now, before placing a soft kiss on your forehead…. and flicking it right afterward. “My beautiful idiot - and I will only call you an idiot this one time because you’re acting like one! Did you miss the part where I gave Taehyung an earful? I know he respects me, and he respects you, but I still got jealous that he even saw it. I rushed here, so hot and bothered and ready to fuck because of the photos but also because of that anger. I wanted to fuck my beautiful girl. You know how you say you love it when I wrap my arm around you in public - I do that all the time since you said it, but do you know the first time I did it was because a guy wouldn’t stop staring at you? It’s happened far too many times.”

“I was probably too happy to have your arm around me to notice,” you whisper.

“Maybe, baby. Exactly, actually. Baby, you need to look at me when you see those girls you mentioned because if you do, you’ll see what they see: someone so ridiculously in love already. I never took notice because ever since I met you… every other girl ceased to exist in my eyes. The only one I see is my beautiful smartass witch who has taken over my brain and magically transfigured herself into my whole world.” You chuckle, but he goes on. “My love, I can’t tell you not to get jealous. God knows I can’t stop myself, either. But if there’s one thing in the world you shouldn’t worry about, it’s me thinking of anyone else.”

“Neither should you, Koo,” you say, holding onto him.

“I’m yours… and you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” you repeat, tears streaming down your face once more.

And once again, Jungkook kisses your tears away before kissing you more deeply, and you discover make-up sex to be more passionate than angry sex.

--------

seven

The sunlight streaming in beneath the curtains wakes you, interrupting the pitch-black darkness of Jungkook’s bedroom… your boyfriend's arm wraps around you, pulling you tightly against his body in his sleep. You remain that way, happily pressed against him and breathing to the magically rhythmic beat of Jungkook’s snoring and mumbling. A feeling of sleepiness returns as you close your eyes with your mind drifting away in your feelings of contentment… so much so that you don’t notice that his snoring has stopped.

“I think I met you in another life,” he whispers.

Sharply exhaling at the most romantic words you’d heard your entire life, you face Jungkook, brushing away the hair on his face, and to your shock, he opens his eyes widely.

“Oh, baby. I didn’t realize you were up,” he mumbles, with his face flushing.

“I think so too,” you say back, instantly kissing your boyfriend and suddenly bear-hugging him underneath the covers. Ready to fall asleep once again, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder while he moans, happy as ever to lay underneath the weight of you…. but you soon pull away to confirm your suspicion. He is excited.

“Oh, Jungkook, baby…. With the week we’ve had…. I’m exhausted,” you admit while still clinging onto him tighter.

“It’s not a week yet, baby,” he moans, his hand finding the small of your back. “I’ll take it slow.”

“You’re lucky it’s Sunday, and that we have the whole day to ourselves, you little sex demon,” you say, grazing up his chest until your fingers find his nape and you’re able to pull him in for a sleepy, sloppy kiss and mindless touches.

“Let’s sleep in.”

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