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ham1lton · 3 months ago

Text

X MARKS THE SPOT!

pairings: retired f1 drivers x retired f1 legend!yn.

faceclaim: jessica alba.

summary: being the first-ever female f1 world champion was hard enough. writing a tell-all about it, including all the details of your beef with that former driver? let’s just say the track wasn’t the only place things got heated.

warnings: mentions of misogyny. like a lot. so if that is something that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read!! your comfort comes first <3

author’s note: ignore timeline issues!! this was all inspired by that one anon who said something about yn writing a tell-all. if you liked this, maybe send me an ask? :D

now part of a trilogy!

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liked by vogue, jimmyfallon and 2,837,018 others

yourinstagram: it was so fun talking to jimmyfallon about writing my memoir ‘lucky girl syndrome’! i talked about getting the call that i was being signed, getting name dropped in a kdot song (thank you for making me cool to my nephews!) and the legacy i want to leave behind. check it out!!!

view all 298,727 comments

user1: MOTHERRR

user2: omg i’ve already pre-ordered my copy!!

-> user3: i’ve reserved it at my local library 🫡

user4: i hope she spills all the tea. i wanna know exactly who the misogynist motherfuckers are.

user5: she’s the goat female driver idc!! first female championship winner!!

-> user9: during her time in mclaren, jenson was carrying her. but yeah let’s talk about that one rigged championship 😂

user6: she still looks so hot. my first celeb crush.

-> user7: i had pictures of her all over my wall. i think my mom still has them up 😓

user8: worst driver of all time. only there because she looked good in the race suit.

-> user11: if she wasn’t hot, no one would care about her driving.

user10: this was always going to happen when you allowed women into f1. ruined the sport. she was nothing but a distraction on the grid.

-> user12: she was incredible. she clawed her way to a championship when everyone doubted her. she proved that women can do anything. the only distraction are people like you.

user13: please please please tell me she says that her and jenson were a thing. i always used to ship them so bad. the photoshoot for british vogue was imprinted on my thirteen year old brain.

-> user14: ANOTHER JENSONYN SHIPPER!!! baitclaren was my fav mclaren era. y’all can have your twinkclaren!!

-> user15: remember when jenson shut down a misogynistic reporter who tried to imply that yn wasn’t a good driver?? that was his girl frfr!!

user16: i’m so proud of u yn. you’ve been through so much and i’m excited to support you.

*liked by yourinstagram.*

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“SHE’S NOT THAT FAST — SHE JUST GETS LUCKY SOMETIMES. THAT’S ALL IT IS. RIGHT CAR — RIGHT TIME. LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME.” — a senior mclaren engineer.

dedicated to everyone who ever rooted for me. thank you.

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EXCERPT FROM LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME.

by yn yln.

when i signed with mclaren in 2013, i thought i was living my dream.

i was the only female driver on the grid, paired with jenson button—a world champion, a household name, and, to some, a certified heartthrob. they already loved calling him “promiscuous” in the press, and suddenly there i was: the pretty young woman who happened to drive fast. to them, we weren’t drivers—we were a brand. two good-looking people in shiny cars. and that label stuck.

from the start, i wasn’t taken seriously. i’d show up to meetings and realize they’d given me the wrong time—jenson would already be there, halfway through strategising with the team. he always looked uncomfortable when i walked in late, knowing i wasn’t told the same things he was.

“you’re here now,” he’d say, smiling politely, trying to ease the tension. i liked him. he wasn’t the problem. he was respectful, and if anyone made an offhand comment about me, he’d interject with a joke to cut through the awkwardness. but even his kindness couldn’t fix what was fundamentally wrong.

my first podium was a moment i’d worked my entire life for. it was a race where i drove faster than jenson, faster than most of the grid. but the photo they posted of me on the team’s social media wasn’t of me crossing the finish line, or holding my trophy.

it was me in the garage, leaning over the car, my race suit unzipped halfway down. the caption didn’t even mention the podium. it was just… my body. i couldn’t stomach looking through the comments.

i’ll never forget calling my dad that night. he was furious. he asked me why i didn’t make a fuss. why i didn’t storm into the team’s office and demand better treatment. but what he didn’t understand was that it wasn’t that simple. you’re the only woman in a room full of men, and they’re already waiting for you to slip up. waiting for you to show too much emotion, to prove them right when they think women are too “dramatic” to handle the job.

so i kept my head down. i smiled at the cameras, laughed at the jokes, and drove my ass off every weekend. and every time i was faster than jenson, every time i outqualified him or finished ahead, they’d say, “she got lucky.” when he beat me, they’d say, “see? this is why she doesn’t belong here.” it was a game i couldn’t win.

being the first woman on the grid wasn’t just about being fast. it was about being everything they didn’t expect me to be: calm, collected, agreeable. i couldn’t afford to push back because i knew they’d use it against me. so i swallowed it all, every little slight, every dismissive comment, every missed opportunity. i thought if i just kept my head down and drove, eventually, i’d earn their respect.

but now, looking back, i realize… they were never going to respect me. not really. not as a driver. they respected what i did for their brand, for their image. they respected how well i played the part. but as a person, as an athlete? i was just another pretty face to them. nothing more. and that’s what hurt the most.

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r/books

Discussion Thread:

“Lucky Girl Syndrome” by YN YLN: Thoughts, Reactions, and the Drama It’s Stirred Up.

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u/checkeredpast: just finished lucky girl syndrome, and WOW. she did not hold back. calling out mclaren for the way they treated her, the “wrong meeting times” sabotage, and the completely inappropriate podium photo… i can’t believe this stuff actually happened.

u/fastlaneandfurious: the part where she talks about the team using her as a “walking brand strategy” instead of a driver broke my heart. like, they wanted her to be the face of the team but refused to actually treat her like a serious athlete.

u/f1fanfiction: let’s talk about the fact that she outsold literally every sports memoir in history. 2 million copies sold in the first week. yn doesn’t just break records on the track, apparently.

u/nosteeringallowed: her calling out the media for labeling her as “lucky” after she beat half the grid is ICONIC. “they didn’t call my male teammates lucky—they called them skilled.” like, yes queen, drag them.

u/ynsthegoat: what got me was the chapter about the infamous team dinner where they wouldn’t even let her speak during strategy talk. then she went out and out-qualified jenson the next day.

u/overqualifiedandundervalued: “they said i was lucky, but luck doesn’t drive faster laps or win races. luck didn’t make me the first woman to win a championship—it was skill, it was hard work, and it was me.” CHILLS. absolute chills.

u/gridgossip: is no one going to talk about the tea she spilled on that one driver? the “polite but condescending” comments she got from him while he constantly undermined her. we KNOW it’s about seb.

u/wheresthefinishline: @ u/gridgossip no no no, it’s def about fernando. she’s been shady about him for years, and the way she described the “overly competitive teammate who couldn’t handle being outpaced by a woman” fits him perfectly.

u/holygrailpodium: the inappropriate photo after her first podium makes me so mad every time. she’s standing there in tears, holding the trophy, and they choose to post a picture of her leaning over the car with her suit half-open?? disgusting.

u/gaslitandgridlocked: her dad being her biggest defender was such a beautiful part of the book, though. “why do you stay quiet when you’re the fastest in the room?” hit me right in the heart.

u/podiumqueen: not me crying over how she kept driving through all of this, knowing they didn’t want her there. like, the strength it must’ve taken to win races when her own team wasn’t even rooting for her.

u/championshipenergy: the way she calls out how different her career would’ve been if she were a man was SO POWERFUL. “they didn’t need me to be fast, they needed me to be pretty. they got both, and they still weren’t satisfied.”

u/mimosasontherace: i can’t stop thinking about the last chapter where she talks about winning her first championship and how no one in her team even hugged her when the cameras switched off. like, they couldn’t even fake happiness for her.

u/driversanddivas: this book isn’t just a memoir; it’s a reckoning. yn exposed everyone who doubted her and proved that no matter what they threw at her, she came out on top. lucky girl syndrome my ass—she EARNED that title.

u/lightsoutandread: imagine being on the grid right now, knowing you were one of the people she called out. the absolute awkwardness.

u/trophiesandtrauma: if you’re on the fence about reading this, DO IT. it’s not just about racing—it’s about breaking barriers, sexism, and resilience. honestly, it deserves all the success it’s getting.

u/checkeredpast: she’s already announced a limited series deal with a streaming platform. you KNOW it’s going to be messy when they dramatize the “wrong meeting times” scene.

u/bookishracer: “lucky girl syndrome” is officially my book of the year. yn didn’t just tell her story; she made sure no one could ever erase it again.

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liked by f1stan, ynstan and 1,837,928 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: f1 legend and now best selling author, yn yln, took to harper’s bazaar to discuss writing and her career. however, her memoir went viral for more than its record breaking sales. yln mentioned that there was a certain driver that would be her biggest fan in public and then undermine her in public. it has been dubbed ‘x marks the spot��, with the hashtag gaining major traction on social media. what do you think ham1ltons? and who do you think the supposed driver could be?

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‘there was one driver who always seemed to go out of his way to remind me i didn’t belong. he wasn’t on my team, but his presence always lingered—sharp, dismissive, condescending. let’s call him x. in interviews, he’d say all the right things, calling me a “trailblazer” and claiming he respected what i brought to the sport. but in the paddock, it was another story. during press conferences, he’d interrupt me, throwing in some smug joke that made everyone laugh but left me feeling small. once, during a rain delay, he walked past my garage and casually remarked to my engineer, loud enough for me to hear, “well, at least she’ll look good sliding off the track.” and when i won my first race, beating him in the process, he didn’t say a word. no handshake, no congratulations—just a quick glance and he was gone. i’ll never know why he went out of his way to belittle me, but in the end, i didn’t care. that win wasn’t for him. it was for me.’

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view all 23,727 comments

user1: it’s definitely fernando. they’ve never liked each other, and he’s always been salty when anyone’s faster than him.

-> user2: nah, it can’t be fernando. he’s competitive, but he’s never outright disrespectful. i’m thinking nico.

-> user1: girl that’s the point 😭 x was never openly disrespectful.

user3: okay but what about lewis? we KNOW their relationship wasn’t always great. remember how tense they were in interviews back then?

-> user4: no way it’s lewis. he’s literally said she’s one of the most talented drivers he’s raced against.

-> user5: lewis can say nice things now, but what if he wasn’t like that back then? she didn’t say the guy stayed disrespectful. she also said x was nice in public, who knew what he was saying in private.

user6: everyone’s ignoring seb, but she’s shaded him before. what if it’s him?

-> user7: yn has ALWAYS defended seb. if anything, he was one of the few drivers who actually supported her. it’s not him.

user8: it has to be fernando. the whole paragraph is giving fernando energy, and you know it.

-> user9: nah, i still think it’s nico. remember when he threw shade at her in a press conference after she outqualified him?

user10: you’re all wrong. it’s michael. she’s talked about how intimidating he was to race against, and she never got along with him.

-> user11: yn literally called michael one of her idols. she’d never write about him like that.

user12: y’all are missing the obvious answer—kimi. he’s the only one who would say something that blunt and not care about the fallout.

-> user13: kimi didn’t even talk to her half the time lol. i can’t see him caring enough to belittle her.

user14: okay, what if it’s no one we’re expecting? maybe it’s some random mid-grid guy like grosjean or massa.

-> user15: yn wouldn’t waste a whole chapter on someone irrelevant. it has to be one of the big names. my money’s on fernando or nico.

-> user1: fernando for sure. yn’s always been lowkey bitter about him, and this just proves it.

-> user2: it’s not fernando!! why can’t you just accept that some drivers are cocky without it being him??

-> user3: okay but if it’s not fernando, who else would it be?? the smug comments SCREAM his vibe.

user5: we’re all arguing, but yn’s probably laughing at us right now. she KNEW we’d be doing this.

user16: yn ‘attention whore’ yln.

user17: at least we know it wasn’t my king jb 😻

user18: idk who tf yn is but this tea is so juicy 😭

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[setting: thanksgiving dinner, complete chaos. plates of food are half-eaten, wine glasses are full, and cousin jess is recording everything on tiktok. the family is deep into an argument about “x marks the spot,” using jess’s infamous powerpoint as reference.]

uncle bob: jess, i still don’t get why you made a whole powerpoint about this.

cousin jess: because the people need to know, uncle bob. yn’s memoir is the drama of the decade, and you’re welcome for organizing all the evidence.

aunt carol: honestly, it’s that fernando. slide four proves it. all the press conferences where he interrupted her? it’s right there.

aunt fiona: fernando wasn’t that bad. he even congratulated her in, like, 2017. i think it’s nico. slide eight, jess literally wrote “petty king energy” under his name.

uncle hamish: it’s not nico. you’re all overthinking this. i say it’s jenson. didn’t he once call her “intense” in an interview?

cousin matt: jenson literally defended her against the media every other week, hamish. you clearly didn’t listen to slide six.

grandpa: i still don’t understand why this yn person didn’t just punch the guy.

grandma: because she has class, unlike this family. pass the stuffing.

aunt bobbi: wait, what about lewis? slide ten said they were “friendly but complicated.” maybe he was fake-nice to her.

uncle craig: fake-nice? lewis was the only one who liked her, bobbi. slide nine has like five examples of him hyping her up in interviews.

cousin jess: uncle craig, you’re wrong. he was supportive, but there’s that one time he ignored her after she beat him in qualifying. it’s suspicious.

aunt carol: you think it’s suspicious? no way. lewis isn’t smug enough to be x.

uncle hamish: oh please, you’re all just picking names because they sound dramatic. if anything, it was sebastian.

aunt fiona: seb? absolutely not. slide seven shows he called her “one of the best drivers on the grid” multiple times.

uncle bob: that’s suspicious. who compliments people that much unless they’re guilty?

grandma: compliments aren’t guilt, bob. stop eating the cranberry sauce straight from the bowl and get a grip.

aunt carol: you’re all wrong. slide four, people! fernando cutting her off mid-sentence! the man’s guilty as sin.

grandpa: why does anyone care about this? it’s all rich people in fancy cars. sounds like nonsense.

cousin matt: rich people drama is the best kind of drama, grandpa.

aunt bobbi: jess, why is kimi’s slide just a picture of him smoking with “#needthat” written under it?

cousin jess: because kimi’s innocent. everyone knows he doesn’t care about anything but being my dream man.

uncle craig: so why isn’t yn on the slide about drivers who were universally liked?

cousin jess: because she wasn’t universally liked, uncle craig. she was fast, hot, and female in a male-dominated sport. they were all salty.

uncle bob: well, now they’re all posting about how much they respect her.

grandma: of course they are. it’s called covering their asses.

uncle hamish: if i were yn, i’d name names. all this mystery is just fueling conspiracy theories.

grandpa: or she could just leave it alone so we don’t have to argue about it at thanksgiving. what the hell even is f1? is that nascar?

uncle craig: formula 1, dad. jesus, keep up.

grandma (snapping): if someone doesn’t pass me the cranberry sauce right now, i’m gonna be the next x.

[jess pans the camera to her grandma glaring at the table, muttering under her breath as the family keeps arguing.]

cousin jess (whispering into her phone): y’all, my family is losing it over x marks the spot. happy thanksgiving.

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liked by landopriv, ynupdates and 4,738,918 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: an update on the ‘x marks the spot’ speculation. it started over who exactly is x, from f1 legend yn yln’s memoir and it is causing a stir! with former/current drivers taking to social media and journalists to prove their innocence. kimi räikkönen, when asked, said ‘yn deserved every win she got. people talked too much, but she let her driving do all the talking. always respected that about her.’

mick schumacher released a statement via instagram, with a montage of photos of him and his dad with the first female championship winner: ‘my dad always believed yn was one of the most talented drivers he’d ever seen. he admired her strength, her skill, and her ability to prove everyone wrong, time and time again. he spoke so highly of her and what she brought to the sport, and i know he’d be so proud to see her telling her story.’ when sebastian vettel made a rare appearance to the grid, he confirmed that he had bought a copy and thought that he was proud to watch yn ‘make history’.

now the sudden flurry of support is making fans of the sport wonder just who is genuine and who is covering his ass? what do you think ham1ltons?

view all 2,983 comments

user1: the way literally everyone is tripping over themselves to prove it’s not them is SO funny. one of you is lying, and we will figure it out.

-> user20: exactly!! the fact that EVERYONE is suddenly posting/talking feels so suspicious lmao. someone’s definitely guilty, and they’re trying to throw us off the scent.

user2: kimi’s response is so him. short, straight, and unbothered. it’s definitely not him.

-> user22: we’re all analysing this, but kimi’s out here just vibing like always. love that man.

user3: mick’s statement is beautiful and wholesome as always, but also low-key throwing shade at the others?? like, ‘my dad always supported her’ is giving ‘can’t say the same for you lot.’

-> user21: honestly, mick’s post is the only one that feels 100% genuine. his dad was always so supportive of yn.

user4: seb really said ‘i bought the book’ and dipped. man didn’t even deny anything outright. sus??

-> user5: nah, seb’s always been a yn fanboy. remember when he called her ‘the most talented driver on the grid’? it’s not him.

user6: the lewis and nico posts are giving major ‘damage control’ energy. both of them trying WAY too hard to sound supportive.

-> user7: facts. lewis called her a ‘trailblazer’ like we wouldn’t notice how cold things were between them back in the day.

-> user17: tbh, i don’t think it’s lewis. yn has said before that he was always encouraging her, and they’ve stayed friendly.

user8: fernando’s post feels so rehearsed. like, when has he ever gushed over yn like that before??

user9: low-key think it’s nico. man was so salty about literally everything back then, and the ‘petty king’ vibes match the memoir perfectly.

-> user10: yesss, especially the part where she said he didn’t congratulate her after her first win. sounds EXACTLY like something nico would do.

user11: not enough people are talking about jenson. just because he was her teammate doesn’t mean he’s innocent. the whole ‘answer my texts’ thing was cute, but he’s a smooth talker.

-> user12: nah, yn always spoke highly of jenson. he had her back when mclaren was treating her like a sex toy. i’m ruling him out.

user13: so we’re all just ignoring that fernando spent YEARS shading her in press conferences? india ‘13 is permanently engraved in my brain.

-> user18: can’t lie, if it’s fernando, i’ll be disappointed but not surprised. his 2013 energy was… a lot.

user14: honestly, they’re all acting sketchy. the sudden love bomb of support is too much. one of you is x and we will find out.

user15: plot twist: what if x isn’t even one of the obvious names? imagine it’s someone random like felipe massa lmao.

-> user16: watch it not even be one of the main suspects and we’ve been dragging the wrong guy this whole time 💀

user18: it’s giving ‘we need to get ahead of the narrative’ vibes, and i’m here for the chaos.

-> user19: everyone’s pr team is in OVERDRIVE rn lmfaoooo

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @yongi-lee @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

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4K notes · View notes

orangeblossomsintheair · 2 months ago

Note

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

#x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #lando imagine #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you #ln4 fanfiction

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aajjks · 1 month ago

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Wifey and Groceries (m)

synopsis. Another day, another shenanigan. Going grocery shopping with your nightmare of a roommate who really wants to fuck you, can’t be that much of a struggle, can it?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: crack, 18+

warnings: grôcêry stôre shênânîgâns, flïrty jungkôôk, ôbsêssêd jungkôôk, tsûndêrê yôû, împlîcît sêxûâl jôkês, ânnôyîng jungkôôk whô wôn’t stôp bâbyîng yôû, lïkè îf yôû thïnk lâûghîng îs flïrtîng.

note. I never imagined receiving so much love on stuff like this but thank you- thank you so much for sending so much love on stuck with you and loving our horny roommate jaykay so much. 😵‍💫🥺 so on high demand here is another part. If this flops like I’m expecting well- umm but anyways I hope you guys enjoy this but please share your thoughts and feedback and if this also becomes a hit, I will write another part and I will really make this a series!! ENJOY!

“Jungkook, I swear to God, put that back.”

What did you do so wrong in your past life to deserve this kind of torture in the human form of your roommate, Jeon Jungkook?

You cannot believe this.

You glare at the ridiculous amount of instant ramen he’s just dumped into the cart, your fingers gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are white.

It’s the third time he’s done this, and you’re this close to losing it in the middle of the aisle.

“What? We’re gonna need it,” he says, all faux innocence, holding up one of the packs like it’s a sacred artifact. “You never know when there’s gonna be a ramen emergency.”

“There’s never going to be a ramen emergency, you idiot,” you snap, shoving the packs back onto the shelf. “Stop acting like a child.”

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just mortally wounded him. “Wow. You’re so mean to me. Is this what married life is gonna be like?”

“Married life?” You look at him like he’s grown a second head. “We’re not even—why are you like this?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,”

he smirks, leaning casually on the cart. “We’re grocery shopping together, picking out ingredients for our future home-cooked meals. Pretty much married already.”

“Jungkook, I’m going to kill you.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mrs. Jeon, let’s not resort to violence,” he teases, pushing the cart forward as you glare at him. “Not when we’re still in our honeymoon phase.”

MRS JEON???? What the fuck is he barking about?

You shove the cart to a halt, ignoring the way he laughs at your frustration. “Stop calling me that. And stop putting random crap in the cart!”

“I’m not putting random crap in the cart.” He points to the giant stuffed bear sticking out of the basket. “This guy’s coming home with us. He’ll be perfect for our couch.”

“Jungkook, we don’t even have a couch.”

“Yet,” he says, grinning. “But when we do, he’s gonna look great. You’ll see.”

You groan, turning your back on him to grab the toothpaste you actually came for. But before you can even decide between mint or charcoal,

Jungkook sidles up behind you, way too close for comfort.

“Why are we even looking at toothpaste,” he murmurs, voice low, “when your smile’s already perfect?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?”

“Always, babe.” He smirks, leaning casually against the shelf like he’s in a photoshoot. “You should get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” You scoff, shoving the toothpaste into the cart. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need to. You do it for me,” he fires back, trailing after you like a lost puppy as you head toward the produce section.

You ignore him, but it’s impossible when he suddenly grabs a cucumber and holds it up like a microphone.

“So, tell me,” he says, pretending to interview you, “what’s it like to be out grocery shopping with the man of your dreams?”

“Man of my nightmares, you mean,” you mutter, snatching the cucumber from his hand and tossing it into the cart.

“You wound me,” he says dramatically, clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him.

Then he grabs a pack of strawberries and holds it up.

“What about these? Strawberries for my sweetheart?”

“Your sweetheart isn’t here, Jungkook,” you deadpan.

He’s really testing your patience right now.

“Sure she is.” He winks, tossing the strawberries in the cart before you can protest.

By the time you reach the checkout line, your cart is a chaotic mix of actual groceries and Jungkook’s ridiculous additions, including the giant stuffed bear he refused to leave behind.

He’s a big man child.

As the cashier starts scanning your items, Jungkook casually drapes an arm around your shoulder.

“By the way,” he says, flashing his signature grin, “this is my girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty?”

Your brain short-circuits. “What—no, I’m not—;”

“She’s just shy,” Jungkook interrupts, squeezing your shoulder.

“But yeah, she’s the love of my life. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Why is your heart fluttering?

You slap his arm off you, your face burning as the cashier tries to hold back a laugh. “Jungkook, shut up.”

Just shut up before I shove my fist up your mouth.

He just laughs, that loud, obnoxious laugh that makes you want to scream and smile at the same time.

As you drag him out of the store, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery. “Admit it,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

“You had fun.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, twitching up into a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

He really is insufferable and you’re constantly suffering.

“And yet, here we are,” he teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Wanna grab ice cream on the way home, wifey?”

You groan, but you don’t shove him off this time.

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seiwas · 4 months ago

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you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened.

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares.

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower.

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least.

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking.

“Atsumu,” your voice rings.

Who the hell is “Atsumu”?

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor.

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do.

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team.

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you.

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too?

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving.

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line.

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?”

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now.

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.”

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?”

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company.

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you.

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.”

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side.

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?”

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.”

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike.

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.”

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug.

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—”

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him.

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea.

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court.

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds).

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to.

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space.

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out.

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse.

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body.

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to.

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty.

He doesn’t want to be away from you.

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you.

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss.

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home.

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too.

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it.

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you?

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it.

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there.

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits.

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not.

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance.

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink.

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table.

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody.

It makes his chest hurt.

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?”

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed.

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.)

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady.

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―”

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not.

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.)

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―”

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up.

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.”

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—”

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.”

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest.

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly.

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.”

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.”

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you.

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink.

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.”

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.)

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #atsumu x yn #haikyuu!! x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x yn #miya atsumu x you #shotorus.writes #shotorus.events #in's and out's event

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dumpywrites · 29 days ago

Text

Trophy Boy - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Beauty privilege exists, that's why you're selling your hot best friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, model! Jungkook, soft! Jungkook, office worker reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 5.7k

a/n: softie and goofy Jungkook is my weakness! and I know ya'll feel the same way :)

Yet another busy day at the office. You were sitting down in a slumped position in your cubicle, something you should probably change or would regret in the future. The hot air was not helping you at all and you were starting to sweat through your stripped shirt, despite the air conditioner being on full blast.

Boss just entered the room with the not-so-short rant targeted specifically to the marketing team. Apparently interest in buying plain tees and other basic fashion items were not the greatest at the moment, but if you actually were to be frank, it was more on the brand you were working at. Your boss was blaming things left and right, trying to find excuses to cope with his current losses.

The thing was with the big guy, was that he wanted huge impact while spending the smallest amount he could possibly afford. It was a somewhat clever business decision in terms of saving cost, but sometimes people just needed that extra boom. That go big or go home. If your boss wanted his brand to reach a new market of people, he needed to brave himself for greater risks.

“Sir, maybe we do need to endorse some big name influencers to help boost our social media exposure.” One of your co-workers spoke up.

“We cannot afford millions just for a few Instagram stories, moreover they charge more for a simple photoshoots.” Your boss replied with a groan.

“Sir, but if you look at how Calvin Klein promote their stuff, we obviously need some good looking people wearing and demonstrating how good our products could be.” The guy retorted. “Good looking people make basic items look good. That’s literally what they do.”

“Good looking people cost a lot, Hoseok. If you could somehow find me a drop dead gorgeous guy who would somehow accept anything under thirty dollars per hour, we’ll talk.” And with that the man walked out from the room.

“Well good luck on that, I guess.” Hoseok rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“At this rate you’re gonna get kick out.” You eyed the guy next to you. “We don’t want that, remember? We need you resigning with class, so that you don’t get a bad rep???”

“That man needs to know that whatever boomer shit we’re doing here, ain’t gonna boost our sales!” He protested. “You could buy plain white t-shirts anywhere, what makes us special?!”

“True.” You sighed. “I even heard the design team complaining about this.”

“If only we could afford that one handsome mukbang streamer who is everywhere right now.” Hoseok sighed along with you.

“If you could magically make Kim Seokjin to accept three hundred per hour I would literally worship you.”

“Do you maybe have any hot friends?”

“God, I don’t know?! Do you??? I don’t have any friends who are influencers or anything.”

“Can I see any group photos you have? They don’t have to be an influencer. Just gotta be good looking enough. The rest can be helped through styling.” Hoseok scooted closer.

“You sound crazy.” You eyed the guy, shaking your head. “Are we that desperate?!”

“Hey, maybe doing this could help me get that recommendation letter, you know?” Hoseok said smugly. “Now let me look through your friend group…”

“If you want a decent looking guy that we could revamp by styling later, Yoongi literally exists.” You said, suggesting the tech-support guy.

“He’s short. Although I get your point, would he even be willing to do so without actually killing any of us???”

“Fair enough.” You laughed. “Here, I don’t know, take a look at my friends, I guess…”You handed him your phone.

The picture you flashed on your phone screen was from a recent dinner hangout you had with your group friend of five. Hoseok throughly scanned the photo as if he was doing some detective work. It did not take him too long before an idea popped and he snapped his fingers. He straightened his pose and moved his chair closer to you.

“Who is this hunk with tattoos?!”

“Uh, that’s my friend Jungkook?” You eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me—“

“He’s hot.”

You stopped and looked back to your co-worker’s direction. “He’s the most unserious person I know, we can’t—“

“But he’s hot.” Hoseok cut your sentence again. “He’s not like a model or something, right?”

“He’s a graphic designer…” You replied, unsure.

“Perfect! That means he won’t mind us underpaying him.” He smirked. “Do not argue with me right now, I know you agree with me.”

You eyed the guy again, searching for doubt and found none. The guy was dead serious about this.

“Fine.”

And that was how you found yourself assisting your friend for his now third photoshoot. After the first one being a huge success, your company kept asking for more content and for him to become their part time model.

Obviously your friend’s beauty was no news for you. Jungkook had always been cute in your eyes alone, way before he discovered Pinterest and basic styling. You had known him for a few years, the friend group was built around university days after all, and you had seen him through thick and thin. Literally though, you saw him transformed from this scrawny boy to a gym bro right in front of you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks at the door. You straightened your figure and told the person to enter.

“Hi, Y/N!”

It was Chaewon from design department. Her alongside with Jimin both work in the fashion area. While she designed the silhouettes, Jimin helped with the styling. Even though she was a normal employee like you, she actually was the CEO’s daughter. It was a known fact already, but she insisted to be treated the same as everyone else.

“Hi, do you need something, Chaewon?”

“I need to talk to you about something…” The girl said, looking nervous. She was fidgeting her fingertips and looking to other direction.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Jungkook’s your friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah… why?”

“I really need your help.” She put her hands together above her head. “I need a plus one to a wedding.”

“And you need Jungkook to help you?” You looked at her questioningly.

“Yes!” She said, nodding her head a few times. “Please, my ex is gonna be there.”

“I’m not sure if he’s willing—“

“I’ll pay.”

You froze and she continued again.

“I overheard you talking to Hoseok that Jungkook’s not getting the pay he deserves because he’s new…“

“Chaewon, you don’t have to—“

“Please, just this once??? If it makes you feel better I’ll pay you both.” When you stopped she added. “Is five hundred enough? I’ll give you the same amount.”

You gulped. So unlike her father, Chaewon was not at all stingy. Her offer sounded really tempting. While you wanted to say it sounded good in your head out of good conscious in you, because Jungkook deserved better pay, you also couldn’t lie to yourself that you needed the extra dollars at the moment. Accidentally dropping your phone from the stairs and having to replace the whole screen certainly did a dent to your savings. Not to mention how your car just broke down a month ago.

“I’ll… ask him.”

“Awesome. Let me know as soon as possible cause the wedding’s this weekend!” She smiled before exiting the room.

You spent the next few hours contemplating with your inner debate. It sounded rather wrong, but there’s no harm if he agrees to it? You thought.

“Hey, there!”

Speak of the devil. There he was, skipping through the office walking straight to your shared room. The muscle bunny, sometimes his duality scared you, how his facial expression and demeanor could switch in between takes and breaks. He looked effortlessly good with the brand’s blank white t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Let Jimin cook because he styled his hair wavy this time and it looked so good on him.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Model.” You shook your head, smiling. “Done with the shoots?”

“Yep. I finished an hour earlier this time.” He leaned to your table with a grin on his lips.

“You didn’t give Jimin and Chaewon a hard time, right?” You said, mentioning the design team.

“Nope.” He giggled. “Chaewon even said that I’ve improved a lot and I barely need any pose references now.”

“That’s great.” You said with your eyes still glued to the computer screen.

He hummed and took the empty seat next to you. He started flipping through his phone, not wanting to disturb you but also not wanting to leave.

“Aren’t you leaving? Hoseok’s meeting is done in like ten minutes. He’s gonna need that seat.” You pointed.

He bit his inner cheeks. “What time are you finished?”

“At five? And you knew this already, stop asking.”

“Who knows if I keep asking, one day you’ll get to clock out earlier.” He shrugged.

You chuckled. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me every single time.”

“You got me the job, it’s only fair. Besides, I’m not doing photoshoots every single day.”

Yeah and they’re underpaying you. You sighed. “Kook, I want to ask you something…”

His eyes lit up as he perked up, looking to your direction like a puppy. He nodded eagerly with a smile, waiting for you. “Yeah?”

“Chaewon asked me if you’d be interested on being her plus one at a wedding?”

The excitement in his face dropped almost instantly. You could see his eyes frowned at the question thrown at him.

“That’s weird. Why would she?”

“It’s a wedding and her ex is attending.” You explained. “She said she’ll pay.”

“Nah, that’s still fucked up though. Isn’t she the big boss’ daughter or something?!” He raised his eyebrows.

“But she’ll pay.” You repeated. “She told me five hundred…”

“Oh shit.” He widened his eyes. “For real?!”

You nodded. “Just say yes, it’s literally just a one time thing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you out with everything.”

He breathed out a sigh. “Alright, only if you’ll help me out.”

“Great, I’ll let Chaewon know.” You turned your head quickly realizing Hoseok was already at the door. “Go home, don’t wait up for me.”

He shook his head and smile. “Okay, don’t forget to eat, yeah?”

“I won’t. See ya, Kook.”

He waved his hand to you with a big tooth-aching smile and headed towards the door. He briefly waved to Hoseok and the guy greeted him back before he went out.

“How are you not dating that dude is beyond me.” Hoseok suddenly blurted as he calmly took his seat.

You almost choked on nothing. “Excuse me?!”

“That boy is clearly into you. He basically waits for you every single time like an obedient dog.”

“Cause he’s my friend and I technically got him this job? He said it himself.”

“Sure.” He snickered, eyes immediately back to his computer screen. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will because that’s the truth.” You rolled your eyes and returned to your work.

As promised, you found yourself accompanying Jungkook on a Saturday morning, helping him choosing a suit. Jimin was kind enough to recommend you a good place to rental one. Man only had baggy clothes and baggy clothes only in his wardrobe, and for sure they were not a good fit for a wedding.

“Have you asked Chaewon what color she’ll be wearing?” Jungkook asked as he browsed through the hanger.

“Didn’t I gave you her number? You should talk to her you know, it’ll be less awkward.”

The guy puffed his cheeks, pouting. “Dunno dude… It still feels kinda weird to me. I’ll rehearse when I pick her up.”

“Oh, speaking of that. I’ve rented the car for you. It’s a Lexus.”

“Couldn’t afford a Porche or some?”

“I figured we don’t need to be that flashy.”

“I was joking.” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “It’s always straight up business with you, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You looked at him for a second, but proofing him right as your eyes quickly moved to the loafer shoes at the shelf. “I think these could go well with your suit.”

The man sighed again with a defeated smile on his face as he took the loader to try them on. “This is fun too, I guess…”

“You mean renting an outfit and cosplaying as a rich person?” You quirked your eyebrow and grinned.

“No, I mean hanging out with you like this, silly. When was even the last time we hangout like this?” He chuckled, jumping up and down as he tried the shoes. “Would you look at that, I could probably dance in these!”

“We’ll take those then.” You gestured him to take them off and he did so. “I don’t know, back in college??? Back then when I helped you buying an outfit for—“

“Don’t!” With his eyes widened he immediately stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“Why?” You laughed.

“Do not even man… that was so embarrassing.” He covered his face. “My confidence level was through the roof thinking I could win someone with a bowl cut.”

“Hey, that bowl cut wasn’t so bad!” You chuckled. “Aww, I suddenly missed the cute and innocent looking Jungkookie…”

“You mean I don’t look cute and innocent anymore?” He batted his eyelashes at you jokingly.

“Taehyung thought you were a drug dealer when he first met you.” You folded your arms.

“He’s a judgmental person.” He clicked his tongue. “I am in fact still cute, you need to accept that.”

“Sure.” You giggled and patted him right in his tatted bicep.

There were some audible protests coming from your friend, but you let him be as you paid for the rented clothings and footwear.

After making sure all things were set, you texted Chaewon to double check on the time and place, as well as asking her on whether there was a specific topic she wanted to talk or not to talk. Jungkook still refused to call her or even text her personally, which is a bit annoying, but at the end of the day you were also getting that paycheck so you couldn’t complain too much, since Jungkook was the main performer in this after all.

“All good?” You asked him.

“Do you think I should take off my lip piercings?” He said, looking at the mirror.

“Nah, it’s fine. Chaewon already knows what she’s doing when she asked for you.”

“She specifically wants a bad boy for a plus one?”

“Now who says you’re a bad boy?”

“I thought we just had a talk about how I don’t look cute and innocent anymore???” He turned to face you. “Although, I’m not a believer but that’s your statement.” He shrugged with a big smirk on his lips.

“Your exterior yes, but you’re not fooling anyone with your personality, my guy. You’re a softie.” You chuckled and moved closer to fix his crooked tie.

A genuine smile was visible on his face. “Glad to hear that.”

Seeing his smile instantly made you did as well. “Nervous?”

“Me? Nah, never.” He dismissed.

“Of course.” You giggled. “Go, we’re so gonna try that new Japanese restaurant after this!”

And the party went well. Apparently Jungkook impressed all of Chaewon’s friends, even though they were not the main target and some were even aware of the agreement. Most importantly, he got her ex’s attention. He got the guy approaching, introducing himself, and seemingly pissed when Jungkook decided not to reveal his name to him in return.

In conclusion, Chaewon had a great time and both of you were paid handsomely. Oh, that wagyu beef you had together afterwards sure was delicious!

“I may need to borrow Jungkook again.”

You stared at the lady in front of you, fazed. Chaewon had just stopped you right after work, just randomly popping the sentence out of nowhere. You were not too sure how to react.

“I’ll pay again! Don’t worry.” She giggled nervously. “It’s just that, my parents actually think it’s good if I have someone with me to attend a shareholder party…”

“I see.” Was all you could say.

“They don’t know I’m paying both of you but they do think he’s one good looking arm candy…”

You sure did not like how she phrased that.

“It’ll be quicker than the wedding, it’s just a small dinner.” She reasoned again. “Can you ask Jungkook?”

“Why don’t you?” You cleared your throat quickly after realizing how that might sound rude. “I mean, you could just ask him?”

“I don’t think he’s that comfortable with me… He also talked to me through you, no? Please, I really need your help.”

“I…” The thought of your unfinished car payment started to fill your mind again. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m counting on you.” She quickly reached for your hand and shook it vigorously. “And uh, keep it between us but I think you’ll be getting a raise next month with your contribution and all.” She winked before leaving you.

The whole ride back home got you thinking deeply. Mostly considering your morals and common sense. Sure it was easy money on your part, and while Jungkook himself had not shown major complaints, you couldn’t help but to feel awful. You then decided to give him a call.

“Ye?” The guy on the other line sounded like he had food inside his mouth as he spoke.

“You busy?”

“Wait.” He said, seemingly taking his time to swallow. “No, I was just catching up on Squid Game with Bam. What’s up?”

“Chaewon kinda asked for your help again.”

“Huh?” He voiced, followed by an upcoming video call notification.

“Wait, do you really have to video call right now???” You swore you almost laughed, this man could be out of this world sometimes.

“I need your live reaction.” He chuckled. “And Bam too! Don’t you miss him?”

“Shit, hold on.” You quickly took a peek at your reflection in the mirror, making sure your at home appearance was at least presentable before you accept the call request. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” He laughed and took his dog’s paw to playfully wave at you, making you smile.

“So uh, about Chaewon…”

“Oh yeah, that.” He frowned. “Do I need to go to another wedding? Damn, people must really care about the declining birth rate…”

“Her parents apparently wanted her to go to a dinner with the shareholders.” You controlled yourself not to make any weird expression, thinking about the word eye-candy Chaewon called him still rubbed you the wrong way.

“Oh, am I gonna get introduced as a model?” He beamed. “That’d be cool.”

“I don’t know.” You said, trying not to sound discouraging. “She’s gonna pay again though…”

“Ah…” He nodded, biting his inner cheeks. “I kinda need me a new camera…”

“So?”

“Yeah, why the heck not.” He shrugged. “Does this mean we’ll get another makeover montage moment though???”

“We don’t need to rent a suit for this but I’ll help you out with your outfit choices, I guess.”

“Cool, it’s a date then?”

You looked at him a bit weirded out but man just flashed you a big grin like it was nothing.

“What?! I mean it’s kinda like a date since I don’t have to dress all formal.” He chuckled.

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes.

“I wonder though, I’m not one to judge but can’t she have anyone, I don’t know… more normal?” He then threw a cheeto in his mouth, snacking on it. “She’s a rich girl who’s also conveniently good looking. I’m sure there’s someone willing to go without payment.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I mean yeah.” He said, casually crunching on another cheeto.

You didn’t know why a random opinion of his bothered you somehow, but you decided to shoo the thoughts away. “I don’t know but I think you’re underestimating the power you hold here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook, you are aware that you’re hot, right?” That might be too bold of you, but you were feeling a bit frisky.

“Oooh~” He laughed giddily. “Didn’t know you think of me that way but thank you.”

“Don’t play dumb, I wouldn’t offer you the job if I thought otherwise.”

“I’m so telling the others. They need to know that you find me hot.”

“Jungkook, what the hell—“

“Matter of fact, I’m gonna invite Taehyung to this call…” He snickered.

“What?! No!” You quickly pressed the end call button out of panic.

A text notification showed up immediately after the line ended, filled with a bunch of laughing emojis, saying that he was just joking and that he would see you on the next photoshoot. You wondered what made your heart doing summersaults but it did for a moment.

“What do girls even like?” Jungkook asked you as he put on his leather jacket. “I probably won’t need this since I won’t be riding my bike, huh?”

You were sitting on his bed, one which had a few clothings messily displayed. It was an off day but you needed to help him with his outfit for another “gig” with Chaewon. The supposed job was not until the next day, but you had to visit your family hence why you were meeting a day prior. To be frank, you didn’t think he even needed you, considering you knew how he dressed on daily basis, but somehow he kept insisting that he needed your opinion as a woman, his words not yours.

“Just be yourself.” You said as you looked at him from top to bottom. “Do not loose the jacket, it’s nice.”

He put the outer back on, admiring at his reflection on the mirror. “You think?”

“I’m sure you go on a lot of dates… I assume.” You gave him a look.

“Oh, you think so?” He chuckled.

You looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know? It’s not like I know your private life like that. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin in a comical way. “Last month, I think?”

You almost asked on why you hadn’t heard any of it, but you felt like it wasn’t your place to. “Oh? How was it?”

“It was okay-ish.” He shrugged. “I think she liked me I dunno…”

“You seem disinterested.”

“You gotta try dating apps man… it drains you so much mentally to the point you start thinking everyone’s the same and nothing really matters.” He laughed.

“You sure you’re not exaggerating?”

“Maybe I am just a bit.” He chuckled. “But man… I’m so fed up with people!” He said, joining you sitting down on his bed.

“Then why don’t you just delete the app?”

He shrugged. “At the end of the day I’m still a human being who needs someone. It gets lonely sometimes.”

“I wanna say working is a great distraction but let’s be honest it’s not.” You shook your head.

“What ever happened to that guy that Namjoon introduced you to?”

“Didn’t quite worked out. Plus, that was like what, five months ago??? Keep up with the news, please.” You laughed.

“And no one told me?!” He looked at you, pretending to be offended.

“It’s not exactly the most interesting story to tell… He’s a nice guy but two weeks into knowing him, he had to move to Singapore for a job.”

“Damn, that’s sad.” He clicked his tongue.

“He’s not exactly my type anyways.” You chuckled.

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, instantly getting a judgy look from you. “How exactly is your type then?”

“I like my men like I like my food.”

“Girlie, you eat anything.” Jungkook slanted his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m not picky. As long as they’re honest and kind… I guess.”

He booed. “That’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Hey, I’m a simple person. And in today’s world it’s hard to find someone who has those traits, you know?” You hit his arm. “What about you? Being a model and all now must have set a new standard for you, huh?”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t really have a type either. I just want someone who matches my freak.”

“That’s gotta be hard.” You giggled.

“Hopefully not.” He grinned. “I mean, you kinda do…” He looked up at the ceiling, playfully whistling.

“Aww, Kookie~” You cooed, teasing him.

“I’m not joking.” He furrowed his brows like a kid.

“Of course not.” You chuckled and ruffled his already messy hair.

Jungkook protested and grabbed your wrist to stop you, but for a moment both of you stopped at eye level, just looking into each other. Your teasing grin slowly faded to be replaced with a tense gaze. The dark round pair of orbs were now staring into your eyes.

Your mind was short circuiting when he suddenly moved closer. Your eyes squinted shut immediately, but nothing really happened after that. Jungkook just laughed it out and softly pushed you off him.

After the second agreement ended successfully, Chaewon had decided to come back yet again asking for Jungkook’s help. For sure she couldn’t be having that many social events to attend to, but apparently she did. This time, she needed him for her school reunion, said that it’d bad for her rep to show up alone after introducing him to her so-called friends just recently.

This time, you were at your limit though. You weren’t so sure how Jungkook felt about the whole ordeal, but you on the other hand felt terrible. You could not just keep continuing and pretending like you weren’t basically selling your friend for money. And so after taking a deep breath, you politely rejected her offer.

“Oh, come on! It’ll be the last time! Please???”She pleaded.

“You need to ask him then, and uh… if he ends up agreeing you don’t have to pay me anymore. I kinda feel bad….”

“Guess I have to ask him myself then.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask him after his photoshoot today.”

“I don’t mean to offend you in any way though, I just feel like I’m exploiting him.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” She smiled, waving her hand in front of her face.

When you arrived at the set the photoshoot was nearly on its end. As usual you get to monitor a bit and asked the staff about the progress. What was odd and new to you was seeing Chaewon being touchy with Jungkook. You knew she was a stylist and it was her job to take care of his looks during the shoot, but the high pitch laughs? Did she really need to touch his hair like that? And why did Jungkook seemed fine and joked back with her. The photographer definitely did not have to say that they look good together too.

You did not hear anything from Jungkook after his photoshoot. You were busy with your job, mostly trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were too scared to ask the guy, you were even too anxious to meet him just at the thought of him finding out about your agreement. You didn’t get the chance to find out the event but kept wondering if he had agreed or not. Seeing how friendly they were today, maybe he did say yes to it.

You also wondered since when did you start feeling jealous over this whole situation. Maybe that one moment between you and Jungkook that day really did something to you. He was about to kiss you, wasn’t he? Or maybe you were just going crazy.

Funny enough, you thought the lad had went home straight after his photoshoot, but he surprised you with two cups of boba in his hands right after work.

“You’re still here?!” You were surprised.

“I didn’t wanna bother you, you seemed very focused today.” He giggled and handed you one of the drinks. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and finish the drink, I’ll take you home after.”

You gulped, the anxiety starting to consume you again. “O-Okay.”

Jungkook seemed to notice the nervousness in the tone of your voice as he looked at you, but he didn’t say anything. You two walked towards a nearby bench outside the building and sat down. It was chilly and you could see the wind blowing his hair nicely, making him look straight out of a movie scene.

“Thanks… for the boba.” You said, a little nervous.

“Chaewon kinda gave me an offer again…”

“Oh.” You said, avoiding his eyes. “How did that go?”

“I don’t know I’m still thinking about it.”

“I see.” You said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic about it.

“She said you don’t wanna be involved anymore though.” He stopped walking. “Did I do something wrong??? If it’s about what happened last time I’m terribly sorry…”

“No! Jungkook, you’re not the one who should be apologizing here!” You sighed.

“Why?”

You couldn’t find yourself to explain further. “You should just say yes, it literally means no harm.”

“But why don’t you wanna help out anymore?!”

One thing about Jungkook was that he sure was one hell of a hard headed man.

“I just have more stuff I need to handle outside work and I don’t have the time.” You lied.

Jungkook looked at you with doubt but nodded anyway. “But we’re okay though, right?”

The big round eyeballs were looking at you, as if pleading. Who would say no to that.

At this point you were sure there was something wrong with you.

You knew Jungkook had to come today for some extra footages. That was why you were trying your hardest to not leave your room and made yourself look busy. Hoseok seemed to notice your weird behavior but this time the man said nothing and let you be.

You managed to avoid your friend for an insufferable few hours, until you had to go to relieve yourself. You saw Chaewon and Jimin first, but then the person who you were suppose to avoid popped out from the restroom, seemingly just done changing back to his own clothes.

Your eyes met immediately and of course his first reaction was to flash you the brightest smile he could. You could tell there was a hint of awkwardness in it, but you didn’t want to further ponder on it.

You waved back timidly, hurrying yourself to the toilet. You even spent a good ten minutes there, hoping they’d leave, but when you were done, Chaewon and Jungkook were still chatting in front.

Chaewon smiled in defeat and grabbed you by your arm. “I just got rejected.”

You widened your eyes and instantly jerked your head towards your friend. The guy only smiled in return.

“Guess you guys are really a bundle, huh? Maybe I should consider asking our tech support guy.” She chuckled.

“Why don’t you just date for real? I could introduce you to some guys.” Jungkook said.

“No, not right now at least.” She giggled. “Too bad, you can’t help me anymore, it’s not exactly easy to find people who would just agree to this.”

“Really?” Jungkook voiced. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Why do you think I even paid your friend here just so you could say yes?” She laughed, not knowing the information she had just revealed.

“Oh, you also got paid?”

“Excuse me, if you guys don’t mind I still got work left undone.”

Without looking back you quickly escaped the scene and half-ran to your room. Neither of them came looking for you afterwards so you assumed you were at least safe for the day.

That was again until you saw a certain Bambi eyed, boba ball looking man waiting for you at the front entrance.

“You finished early today.” He waved. “Wanna get some corndog? I—“

“Jungkook, why aren’t you mad at me?”

The guy looked at you for a second before speaking. “Why should I be angry at you again?”

You sighed. “I got paid without you knowing. I basically sold you.” You looked away, trying to control your emotion.

You heard his sigh and his shoulders drooped as he walked closer to you. “No, you didn’t. I also got paid and I enjoyed doing the job.”

“If you enjoyed it then what’s the difference if I’m involved or not? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He took a last sip of the drink in his hand before setting it aside. “I only agreed just so I can spend time with you more, dummy.”

You were lost of words.

“I thought having a crush on you was a phase but it turns out I really do like you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not making this weird for you.” He chuckled nervously.

Your mouth went slightly ajar as you froze in place. Jungkook liked you?

“I’m sorry again for that day. I tried to kiss you, it was weird and you seemed really scared. I still can’t get that image out of my head.” Seeing you being all silent he started to panic. “Say something… please.”

You were still processing the whole thing. First thing your friend having feelings for you, second being you seemingly discovering that you were not opposed to the idea and your heart was beating so fast it could explode in any moment. So the weird feeling you had been feeling the past few days, weeks even, was something after all.

You looked up at him, eyes almost teary. “Hold on let me process this.”

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything back! I’m just gonna go—“

“I like you too.” You shyly smiled.

“Oh.” The guy’s cheeks turned pink as he giddily smiled back. “That’s nice…”

“Uh huh.” You giggled.

“So, wanna hold hands?” He looked away as he offered his hand to you.

You expected him to be more on the confident playboy type now, guess you were wrong. Guess the same boy you knew still existed.

You smiled, cheeks turning red as well as you took his hand. “You are such a nerd.”

Both of you walked hand in hand that night, feeling all warm inside despite the cold night air.

Thank you for reading! 📸

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 13 days ago

Note

can you make one where rafe showed his friends a private pic between and reader and she gets all pissed

do you think i deserved it all?

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — explicit picture, manipulation, gaslighting

summary — you overhear your boyfriend and his friends talking abt a certain photo.

authors note — i’m writing with nails so this may have some typos but please ignore that. this can be read as a standalone but is apart of my mean!rafe series that is listed in order on my rafe masterlist under au's. if you guys have any longer requests, please send em in so i can make these a little more detailed cause my creativity is not flowing for some reason.

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you weren't paying attention at all to what was going on around you. rafe, topper, and kelce always talked about stuff you couldn't care less about and that is exactly what they were doing now. the four of you were sat in the living room of the thornton mansion on the couches. your boyfriend was sitting beside you with your feet in his lap as you laid across the soft cushions and his friends were sat across from you two on the other one.

you were currently just mindlessly scrolling through instagram as you plotted your next post. you could faintly hear the boys talking about a variety of things along with the tv playing in the background. you sighed in annoyance when you couldn't find enough pictures and decided you'd be needing to go take some more. you swiped out of the app and began listening to whatever rafe was saying so you could let him know that you'd be needing a photoshoot soon.

"you guys gotta see this shit," he said as he scrolled on his phone and sat up a little straighter. "it's like fuckin' heaven, i'm tellin' you. 'nd she just doesn't care. none of those tantrums about privacy and all that other bullshit. i do whatever i want with 'em."

he leaned forward to show the two whatever he'd pulled up on his phone and their jaws immediately dropped. "holy shit, dude," topper mumbled, completely mesmerized by the screen.

kelce had the same look, leaning in a little to get a better look. "goddamn man. you got her all to yourself?"

your ears perked up at that and you shut your phone off, eyeing rafe wearily. "all mine," he stated with a smug grin. "i've got hundreds jus' sitting in this album. they just keep gettin' better every time i add one."

you felt your heart drop to your stomach and bile begin to rise in your throat. "you're one lucky son of a bitch," topper said with a laugh before sticking his hand up for a high five. "i'll be right back. y'all want any drinks or anything."

rafe looked at you momentarily. "jus' water," he replied, knowing you didn't care for anything else too much.

"i'll take a beer," kelce said while standing along with the blonde. "i gotta take a piss. be back in a minute."

topper let out a hearty laugh and slapped him on the back playfully. "yeah right."

as soon as the two left, you were quickly crawling over to rafe and snatching his phone from his hands. "what the fuck is your problem?" he snapped.

you stared down at it in shock. it was a picture of you from a few nights ago. one taken from a higher angle with your ass propped up in the air, you hair disheveled all across the pillows, your hands gripping onto the sheets by your head, and his cum coating your cheeks and mid-back.

your lip began to tremble and you dropped the phone into his lap rudely. "are you serious? why would you show that to them? do you know how embarrassing that is?"

he laughed. genuinely laughed in your face. "are you serious? it's not that big of a deal. you always blow things like this way out of proportion. you say you want me to show you off and shit and now you're pissed when i do?"

"i didn't mean in a disgusting way," you spat back. "i didn't expect you to go show off a vulnerable picture of me and have you and your friends talk about me like and object as if i'm not sitting right here!"

you could see the frustration building inside of him. he grabbed your wrist harshly and used it to pull you closer to him. "don't you dare fuckin' talk to me like that. before you ever even think about raising your voice at me again, think about who runs this shit, alright? cause it sure as hell isn't you. just remember, i wasn't the one begging for a chance, you understand me?"

a deep red blush creeped up your neck and onto your cheeks out of embarrassment. "I didn't mean it like that rafe," you said quietly. you didn't like when he was mad at you and you definitely didn't want him to leave you. "i'm sorry, i wasn't thinking."

"thats what i thought," he said cockily as he let go of your wrist. "you think i was gonna make a cute little instagram post or somethin'? that what you wanted?"

yes. it was. it was what you were dreaming of. but you knew better than to upset rafe. you were meant to say what he wanted to hear in times like this. you began to convince yourself that maybe he was actually right. maybe it was better this way. "no. i don't want that."

he smiled and chuckled. "good," he replied. “now get your shoes on and get your ass to the car."

your brows furrowed in confusion. you had only been here for and hour or two. "but rafe--"

"do i need to repeat myself?" he was pissed. you didn't need to hear anything else to know that. "get in the fucking car. we're gonna go home and you're gonna sleep off this bratty fuckin' attitude. then when you get up, you're gonna drop all this bullshit and apologize to me the right way. got it?"

you nodded shyly and began to move quickly to find your shoes. you were in for a long, exhausting night.

#gracies asks and requests 💌#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx #outer banks #rafe obx

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scoupsakakitty · 2 months ago

Text

Silent Flames | idol!S.coups x idol!reader | angst, fluff

The December chill nipped at Y/N’s cheeks as she pulled her coat tighter, walking toward the practice room. Seungcheol trailed just behind her, his steps heavy with frustration. He reached for her wrist, stopping her just before they entered the building.

“Wait,” he said quietly.

She turned to face him, her expression soft but wary. “What is it?”

“I hate this,” he muttered, his jaw clenched. “Pretending like we’re not together. Like you’re just some… stranger to me.”

Y/N sighed, reaching up to touch his arm reassuringly. “I know. But we agreed, remember? It’s better than letting the management think we’re defying them. If they find out, they’ll make things even harder for us.”

He scoffed bitterly. “Harder? They already made up lies about us to force us apart. The fans believed it. The rumors, about you using me for fame, it was disgusting. Not to forget our age difference. And now they’re watching every move we make.”

Y/N stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I know it’s unfair, Seungcheol. But we’re still here, aren’t we? We’re still us. We just have to act like we’re not.”

His shoulders slumped, and he nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Let’s get through today. But the second we’re alone, I’m not pretending anymore.”

She smiled softly. “Deal.”

Taking a deep breath, they stepped into the practice room, their professional masks slipping into place.

———————————————————————————

The rehearsal was in full swing, with members from Seventeen, Stray Kids, and Y/N’s group scattered around the room. Seungcheol tried to focus on the group choreography, but his attention kept drifting to the center of the room, where Y/N and Hyunjin were rehearsing their duet.

The choreography was playful but undeniably provocative. Hyunjin’s hands lingered on Y/N’s waist during a spin, their faces close as they hit their marks. The teasing laughter that followed each successful move grated on Seungcheol’s nerves.

“Hyung,” Mingyu said, nudging him. “You’re staring. Everyone can see it.”

“I’m not staring,” Seungcheol snapped, though his eyes remained locked on the duo.

Mingyu chuckled, leaning closer. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you. Relax. It’s just choreography.”

“It’s not just choreography,” Seungcheol muttered. “Why does it have to be so—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, his tone turning teasing. “Oh, if you’re this riled up now, wait until you hear this. Did you know Y/N’s been hanging out with the ‘2000-line’ idols? You know, Hyunjin, Felix, and the others? They’ve even got their own group chat.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said with a grin. “They’re getting a lot of attention lately, like our ‘97-line group. People are calling them the future of K-pop or something. They look good together, too—young, fresh, all born in the same year.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, and Mingyu smirked. “You’re going to pop a vein if you keep this up.”

Before Seungcheol could reply, Bang Chan and Lee Know approached, both smiling warmly.

“Hey, guys,” Chan greeted. “You’re working hard today.”

“Always,” Mingyu said smoothly, giving Seungcheol a look that said Don’t blow it.

Chan leaned against the mirror, glancing at the ongoing rehearsal. “Hyunjin and Y/N are killing it out there. Their chemistry is great, really natural.”

Seungcheol forced a tight smile. “Yeah. They’ve been practicing a lot.”

Lee Know nodded. “Hyunjin was nervous about this duet at first, but I think Y/N brings out the best in him. They make a good pair.”

Seungcheol’s fists clenched at his sides, and Mingyu quickly jumped in. “That’s the goal, right? Making the fans happy. It’s all for the show.”

“Exactly,” Chan said. “Speaking of which, did you hear about their photoshoot tomorrow? They’re going to crush it. A Christmas theme, I think.”

Seungcheol’s stomach dropped, but he kept his expression neutral. “Photoshoot?”

As if on cue, the managers walked in and made the announcement.

“Attention, everyone,” one of the staff called out. “Hyunjin and Y/N will have a photoshoot tomorrow for the promotional materials. Make sure to coordinate with your stylists. The theme is cozy Christmas.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the room, and Hyunjin turned to Y/N with a grin. “Looks like we’re working together again.”

Y/N smiled politely, but she could feel Seungcheol’s gaze burning into her. Mingyu leaned closer to him and whispered, “Hyung, chill. The cameras are still on.”

———————————————————————————

After the session ended, the groups gathered in the lounge area to unwind. Someone suggested a game of charades, and soon, the room was filled with laughter and friendly competition.

Y/N sat with her group, but her attention kept drifting to Seungcheol, who was on the other side of the room with Seventeen. He caught her eye once, and for a fleeting moment, his mask slipped, revealing the frustration and longing beneath.

Hyunjin noticed her distraction and leaned in with a playful smile. “Are you okay?”

Y/N turned to him, nodding quickly. “Yeah, just tired.”

Hyunjin studied her for a moment before asking casually, “Are you still with Seungcheol?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “How did you figure that out?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not hard to guess. Just look at the way he’s staring at me. It’s like he’s about to jump across the room and strangle me.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his lighthearted tone, but she also felt a weight in her chest. “Yeah, we’re still together.”

Hyunjin raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.”

She smiled softly, grateful for his understanding. “Thanks, Hyunjin. I appreciate it.”

Across the room, Mingyu leaned over to Seungcheol. “If you keep staring, people are going to notice.”

“Let them,” Seungcheol muttered.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.“

———————————————————————————

The game of charades had long ended, and most of the idols had dispersed to their respective dressing rooms. Seungcheol leaned against the wall near the vending machines, waiting for Y/N. Mingyu had urged him to stay calm, but the day’s events had worn down his patience. Between the duet, the photoshoot announcement, and Chan’s casual praise for Y/N and Hyunjin’s “chemistry,” his resolve was hanging by a thread.

Finally, Y/N appeared, walking toward him. She glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before stepping into the shadowy corner where he stood.

“You’re waiting for me?” she asked softly, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice.

“Of course I am,” he replied, his tone quieter but no less intense.

Y/N sighed and leaned against the wall beside him, keeping a safe distance in case anyone happened by. “Seungcheol, you need to relax. The day’s almost over.”

“Relax?” he echoed bitterly. “How am I supposed to relax when he’s touching you like that, smiling at you like that?”

She turned her head to look at him, her gaze steady but gentle. “It’s choreography. It’s a photoshoot. That’s all it is.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you,” Seungcheol muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Like he wants more.”

Y/N frowned, stepping closer despite the risk. “And you don’t see the way I look at you. That’s the only look that matters, Seungcheol. You know that.”

Her words softened something in him, and he let out a long breath, his fists unclenching. “I hate this, Y/N. All of it. Pretending we’re not together, watching you from a distance, hearing people talk about you and Hyunjin like you’re some perfect pair.”

She reached for his hand, their fingers brushing lightly. “I hate it too. But we agreed. If the management thinks we’ve moved on, they’ll leave us alone. This is the only way we can be together…at least for now.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall. “I know. I just…” He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. “I miss you. I miss us.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his vulnerability. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms, but the sound of distant footsteps reminded her that they couldn’t risk it. Not here. Not now.

She squeezed his hand gently before speaking softly. “By the way, Hyunjin noticed. He asked me earlier if we’re still together.”

Seungcheol tensed, but Y/N quickly reassured him. “I told him yes. But he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone. He said he won’t breathe a word of it. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Seungcheol let out a small sigh of relief, but the tension didn’t completely leave him. “I still don’t like it, Y/N. The way he looks at you… the way he smiles at you.”

Y/N leaned in a little closer, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to worry about him. I’m here with you, Seungcheol. I always will be.”

Her words softened something in him, and he let out a long breath, his fists unclenching. “I know. I just…” He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. “I miss you. I miss us.”

Y/N smiled softly and leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. “Meet me after,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “At the hotel. I’ll come to your room.”

Seungcheol opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto hers. “Promise?”

Y/N nodded. “I promise.”

———————————————————————————

Later that night, after all the schedules and rehearsals were finished, Y/N made her way to Seungcheol’s hotel room. The hallways were quiet, and she moved quickly, slipping inside without knocking.

Seungcheol was waiting for her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood the moment she entered, pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

Finally, they could be themselves.

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry you had to go through that today.”

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, his chin resting on top of her head. “I just can’t stand the idea of losing you. Watching you with him…it felt too real.”

“You’re not losing me,” she said firmly, pulling back to look at him. “You never will. I’m here, Seungcheol. I’m yours.”

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “I don’t care about the rumors, the fans, or the management. I’ll fight them all if it means keeping you by my side.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “We can’t fight them outright. Not yet. But we can survive this, Seungcheol. Together. We’re stronger than they think.”

He kissed her then, slow and tender, as if to remind her—and himself—that their love was worth every battle.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his. “We’ll get through this. One day, we won’t have to hide anymore. Until then, we just have to hold on.”

Seungcheol nodded, his arms tightening around her. “As long as I have you, I can hold on forever.”

————————————————————————————-

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wendyyyyyyyy · 18 days ago

Text

"Jealous of himself"

Pairing : I.N x fe! reader (established relationship)

Synopsis : You were fangirling over his magazine photoshoot shots only for him to ridiculously get jealous of himself because you were not paying attention to the real him.

Warning : Just pure fluff. No warning at all.

Enjoy!

........

Jeongin was sitting right next to you. Right there.

And yet, you weren’t paying him a single ounce of attention.

No, because in your hands was a magazine—a magazine that contained his latest photoshoot, and you were currently losing your mind over it.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, clutching the magazine dramatically. “Who allowed this?! This should be illegal!”

Jeongin glanced at you, completely confused. “Uh… what should be illegal?”

You ignored him, flipping to the next page. “This entire photoshoot! Are you serious?! How do you even exist looking like this?”

He blinked. “Babe, I’m… literally sitting right next to you?”

You held up the magazine in front of his face. “No, because look at this! Are you seeing what I’m seeing? The jawline? The smirk? The eyebrows? WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT?”

Jeongin scoffed, pulling the magazine down so he could see your face. “I gave me the right? Because, you know, that’s me?”

You ignored him again, flipping to another page. “Oh my god, you’re actually unreal. This belongs in an art museum. No—he belongs in an art museum.”

A beat of silence.

Then Jeongin squinted at you. “…Did you just refer to me as if I’m a different person?”

You waved him off, eyes still glued to the pictures. “Magazine Jeongin just hits different.”

Jeongin let out an incredulous laugh. “I—EXCUSE ME?”

You kept flipping pages, completely entranced. Meanwhile, Jeongin sat there, watching you in absolute disbelief, arms crossed, lips slightly parted like you had just personally offended him.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m sitting RIGHT HERE, but somehow I’m getting ignored in favor of… me?”

You hummed, barely registering his words. “Ugh, I just love him so much.”

Jeongin gasped. “OH, SO YOU LOVE HIM?”

You finally looked up, blinking at him. “Uh… yeah?”

His jaw dropped. “THE HIM IN THE MAGAZINE?!”

You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing. “I mean… look at him. He’s—”

“Nope.” Jeongin stood up dramatically, shaking his head. “I refuse. I REFUSE to be jealous of MYSELF.”

You finally lost it, bursting into laughter so hard you almost dropped the magazine. “Jeongin, babe, are you seriously mad right now?”

“Yes!” he huffed, crossing his arms. “Because my own girlfriend is simping for a printed version of me while ignoring the real me sitting right next to her! This is actual insanity.”

You wiped away tears from laughing so hard. “Oh, baby, are you pouting right now?”

“I am not pouting.” He was definitely pouting. His cheeks were puffed out slightly, lips pursed, eyes narrowed at you like you had personally betrayed him.

“Aw, my baby’s jealous,” you teased, setting the magazine down and reaching for him.

Jeongin took a step back, dodging your hands. “No. Go cuddle your precious magazine Jeongin.”

You gasped dramatically. “You don’t want my love anymore?”

“I do, but apparently I have competition,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And the worst part? The competition is ME.”

That sent you into another fit of laughter. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

He huffed, still acting offended, but you could see the corners of his lips twitching. He was trying so hard not to laugh, but his own jealousy was just too funny to stay mad.

Deciding to push his buttons further, you sighed dreamily. “Honestly… I think I should frame this.” You picked up the magazine again, flipping to your favorite picture of him. “Maybe put it on my nightstand so I can look at him every night before I sleep.”

“Oh, that’s it,” Jeongin groaned, snatching the magazine right out of your hands.

“HEY—”

“You’ve lost magazine privileges,” he announced, holding it above his head where you couldn’t reach.

You whined, trying to grab it back. “Give it back!”

“Nope. You can have me instead.”

You paused, blinking at him. “Wait… so you want me to simp over you in real life?”

He smirked, tucking the magazine under his arm. “Obviously. If you’re gonna drool over me, at least let me see it in person.”

You rolled your eyes, finally giving in and wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re so dumb.”

“And yet, you love me,” he sang, letting the magazine drop onto the couch so he could pull you closer.

“Unfortunately.”

He gasped. “Unfortunately? Wow. Maybe I should let magazine Jeongin have you then—”

You shut him up with a kiss, effectively wiping the smirk off his face. When you pulled away, he was looking at you, slightly dazed, but with the biggest grin.

“Okay, fine. Real-life Jeongin wins.” you teased, poking his cheek. “Now, go get my magazine.”

“Absolutely not.”

And just like that, your ridiculous boyfriend won the dumbest battle of jealousy in history.

......

Happy belated birthday to our maknae on top 🎂

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fawnhart · 28 days ago

Text

drew begs bambi to forgive him ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

They had just wrapped filming her final season on Outer Banks. The whole time, Bambi acted as if she wasn’t hurting inside and nailed every single take flawlessly. Drew, on the other hand, was a mess and everyone knew it.

He kept messing up his lines, forgetting his call times, and dozing off between takes. In a way, Bambi felt bad for him. But he had no right to her sympathy, at least not at the moment

Now, both back in New York, Drew for a photoshoot and Bambi back in her elementl she couldn’t help but look at him with disgust and anger.

How dare he show up?!

It was one of those nights where everything was happening all at once and nothing at all. Drew stood at Bambi’s townhome door, soaked from the rain, his hands trembling, his chest tight. His mullet was a mess, not giving a damn if paparazzi caught him. He just wanted her to listen. She stood there, arms crossed as her eyes burned with anger, hurt, maybe a little curiosity, but mostly just tired.

she had every right to be

“Please, Bambi. Please, let me in. I can’t” He cut himself off, his voice breaking just a little, the words too heavy in his chest. He couldn’t keep pretending to be fine. Not anymore.

She didn’t move, arms crossed, standing her ground. She was beautiful like that, even if her face was streaked with tears, even if her lip trembled slightly.

“You can’t just come in here after everything, Drew.” Her voice was quieter than he expected, but sharper. It made his heart twist “You think you can just say sorry and it all goes away!?”

“I’ve been a mess without you, baby. I’ve screwed everything up,” he said, his words coming out in a rush “I was… I was just scared. Scared of you and your reputation, of what people would say about us. i-” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to hold it together “I thought if I distanced myself, it would protect you.”

Bambi’s expression softened, just a little, but not enough for him to get comfortable. She was still holding that distance “You pushed me away because of what other people might think?” Her voice wavered just slightly on the word might. “And that’s supposed to be for my own good?”

He dropped his head, his eyes stinging “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was..no, I am an idiot.

She didn’t say anything, but her gaze never wavered. After a long silence, she sighed, her breath shaky “And then there’s your friend” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

The words hit him like a punch in the stomach. He didn’t need to ask which friend she meant. That girl. The one who had spent more time telling Drew what a mess he was for being with her than actually being his “friend”. Drew had started to feel that insidious doubt creeping in, her words twisting around in his head like vines.

“She told you I wasn’t good enough, didn’t she?” Bambi asked, and there was a bitter edge to her voice.

“i-I didn’t believe her, baby,” Drew said quickly, his hands shaking again. He took a step forward, desperate “I never believed her. I-look, I shouldn’t have listened to her at all. I was so caught up in my own shit, and-”

“And what!? You let her tell you who I am!? Who we are!? But you were perfectly fine having sex with me?, right” she said feeling utterly and totally used

He swallowed hard, a heavy knot in his throat “I should’ve told her to back the fuck off. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve never let her put those thoughts in my mind. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The air in the apartment felt thick, too heavy to breathe. He finally dropped to his knees, his face flushed with the weight of it all “I love you, Bambi. Please... don’t shut me out. I need you. I can’t fix this without you.”

Her eyes flickered with pain as she stared down at him, her arms still crossed, but now her lips were pressed tightly together as she fought back more tears. She couldn’t let him see her break just yet. Not like this. Not when she was still trying to figure out whether or not she could believe him.

“You really hurt me, Drew. You have no idea how much.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she turned away, wiping at her eyes. She moved slowly, the silence between them stretching like a thin wire.

Drew stayed kneeling, helpless. “Please, Bambi. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do.”

She turned back to him, eyes red-rimmed but steady. “You have to prove it. You have to show me you’re not just talking. Words don’t mean anything anymore.” She paused, her gaze hardening. “And you need to cut her off. She’s clearly got it out for me, and for us, and you can’t keep her around if you want to make this right.”

He nodded immediately “I swear I will. I’ll cut her off. I’ll do anything. Just... please don’t leave me.” His voice was raw, the last of his pride crumbling.

Bambi stared at him for a long moment, and then she sighed “Fine,” she said quietly “But I’m not forgiving you tonight. I need to think about it.”

Drew’s heart sank, but he nodded, trying to be understanding, even if every fiber of him wanted to scream.

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me” He stood up slowly, and she led him into her townhome, but not without a sharp glance over her shoulder as she said, “And you’re sleeping outside tonight, With my cat.”

Drew blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m serious. Outside. With Ms. Mocha. You can sleep on the balcony.” Her tone was final, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked past him into the closet, grabbing a blanket and tossing it in his direction.

Drew was about to protest, but the look on her face stopped him. The soft, determined way she held herself now was a reminder of why he loved her in the first place, because she never made anything easy for him. She knew her worth, even if he had forgotten for a while.

He grabbed the blanket, muttering, “I’m an idiot.”

Her lips quirked up at that, just a little. “Yeah. You are. But you’re still my idiot.” She softened then, her voice growing quieter. “you have to prove you deserve to be with me. Because I can’t go back to being second place.”

Drew nodded, his chest tight. “I swear I will. I swear.” He hesitated then added “can I atleast sleep on the couch?” he said with a weak smile

Bambi rolled her eyes, but it was playful now, the tension easing just enough for her to offer him a tiny truce. “Fine. I haven’t burned your clothes yet, consider yourself lucky.” She said heading to her room to grab some of his pajamas he had left there several times

He laughed softly, grateful for the small weird victory. He knew it was far from over, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

“missed you Mocha” he whispered as he curled up on her soft pink couch, Ms. Mocha curled up next to him with an irritated meow, Drew stared at the night sky view from her townhome, wondering how he could have been so fucking stupid. But maybe, he had a chance to make it right.

#works!⟡࿔*:･ﾟ #bambi!reader✦ •ִ ᜔.#drew starkey #aesthetic #drew starkey imagine #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey x reader #drew x reader

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gpcwsl · 1 month ago

Text

Warnings: kissing, making out, suggestive.

(Thank you for who ever requested this. I lost the request )

Leah Williamson x Police!Reader

- Officer Charming -

MasterList

Leah Williamson had always prided herself on her calm, collected demeanor. Whether it was during her football days, facing down roaring stadiums and unforgiving opponents, or in her current life as a youth sports coach, she rarely let anything phase her. But all of that went out the window every time she saw you in uniform.

Your crisp navy-blue police uniform, the polished badge glinting on your chest, the confident stride—it all made Leah’s heart race in a way nothing else could. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone (yet), but she might have been developing a slight obsession with your job.

You first met Leah at a charity football match a year ago. The local police department had put together a team to play against retired professional players, and you had begrudgingly agreed to join. You weren’t much of a footballer, but you could at least kick a ball without embarrassing yourself.

Leah had been the opposing team’s captain, her natural charisma drawing attention even off the pitch. You had noticed her immediately—her sharp passes, her authoritative presence, and, later, her easy laughter during the post-match drinks at the pub.

“You’re not bad for a copper,” Leah teased, handing you a pint with a cheeky grin.

“And you’re not bad for a retired footballer,” you shot back, earning a mock-offended gasp from her.

The banter flowed effortlessly after that, and by the end of the night, you had exchanged numbers.

Fast forward a year, and the two of you were officially dating. Leah had adapted surprisingly well to your unpredictable hours and occasional late-night callouts. She even joked about the perks of dating a police officer, like always having someone to help her parallel park.

But there was one thing she hadn’t expected: how much she liked seeing you in uniform.

“Are you seriously just standing there staring?” you asked one morning, raising an eyebrow as you adjusted your utility belt.

Leah leaned against the kitchen counter, unabashed. “I can’t help it. You look… authoritative.”

You snorted. “I’m going to work, not a photoshoot.”

“That doesn’t make it any less distracting,” she said, her grin mischievous.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the flush creeping up your neck. Leah had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel electric.

One Friday night, Leah convinced you to join her and her friends for drinks at a local pub. It had been a rough week for you, and you were looking forward to unwinding.

Midway through the evening, one of Leah’s friends, Georgia, leaned over with a teasing smile. “Does Leah make you handcuff her for fun, or is that just a perk of the job?”

Leah nearly choked on her drink, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. You, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and played along.

“Only when she gets out of hand,” you said smoothly, earning a chorus of laughter from the table.

Leah shot you a mock glare. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Is that so?” you teased, leaning closer.

The banter continued, but later that night, as you walked Leah home, she tugged you to a stop outside her door.

“Do you actually have handcuffs with you right now?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You smirked. “Leah Williamson, are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” she said, pulling you closer by the collar of your jacket.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Your lips met hers in a heated kiss, the tension of the evening bubbling over into a moment of pure connection. Her hands found their way to your shoulders, pulling you even closer as the world around you faded away.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Leah rested her forehead against yours, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Let’s just say I’m a fan of your job,” she murmured.

One afternoon, Leah decided to drop by the station to surprise you with lunch. She walked in, carrying a bag of your favorite takeaway, only to find you in the middle of interrogating a suspect.

She stood by the door, watching you work with a mixture of pride and amusement. Your no-nonsense tone, the way you commanded the room—it was mesmerizing.

When you finally finished and stepped out, she greeted you with a grin. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You laughed, taking the bag from her. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to see you in action,” she said, giving you a once-over. “And I wasn’t disappointed.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

Leah had always been a bit of a prankster, and one day, she decided to test your patience. She swiped your hat from the kitchen counter and put it on, striking a pose.

“How do I look?” she asked, her tone mock-serious.

“Like you’re about to get arrested,” you replied, fighting back a laugh.

She grinned, stepping closer. “And what if I don’t go quietly?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Then I guess I’ll have to take you down myself.”

The tension between you crackled as Leah closed the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was equal parts playful and passionate.

“Careful, officer,” she murmured against your lips. “You might enjoy this too much.”

Leah had always been an excellent driver—at least, that’s what she claimed. But one day, while you were on patrol, you spotted a familiar silver car parked on a double yellow line outside a café.

You frowned, pulling up behind it. Sure enough, the license plate was unmistakable: Leah’s.

Shaking your head, you got out and strolled into the café, where Leah was seated by the window, happily sipping a latte. She froze mid-sip when she saw you in your uniform, your arms crossed and an unimpressed look on your face.

“Oh, hey, love,” she said with an innocent smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy seeing your car outside on a double yellow,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Leah blinked, trying to feign ignorance. “Is that… illegal?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” you deadpanned, pulling out your notebook for effect.

“Wait, wait!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly. “You’re not actually going to write me a ticket, are you?”

You pretended to consider it. “Rules are rules, Leah.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

Leah narrowed her eyes, a playful glint replacing her initial panic. “Fine, but if you give me a ticket, I’m putting pineapple on your pizza for the rest of your life.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Leah grinned, stepping closer. “That’s what I thought, Officer Killjoy.”

Later that evening, you both recounted the story to your friends, who unanimously agreed that Leah deserved at least a warning.

Leah had always been curious about your work gear. One evening, after a long day, you came home to find her examining your handcuffs with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, kicking off your boots.

“Just… looking,” she replied innocently, holding the cuffs up. “These seem pretty sturdy.”

“They’re meant to be,” you said warily.

Leah smirked. “How do they work?”

You gave her a pointed look. “Don’t mess with them, Leah.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll arrest myself?” she teased, already fiddling with the mechanism.

Five seconds later, there was a loud click. Leah’s triumphant grin faded as she realized she had successfully cuffed one wrist to the kitchen chair.

“Uh… love?” she said, her voice suddenly sheepish.

You stifled a laugh as you walked over. “Did you seriously just handcuff yourself to a chair?”

“It was an accident!” she protested, tugging at the cuffs. “A little help, please?”

You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave you here for a bit.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, but her attempt to look intimidating was completely undermined by the chair dangling from her wrist.

After a few more moments of teasing, you finally unlocked the cuffs, shaking your head. “You’re a menace.”

Leah grinned, rubbing her wrist. “You still love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you said, pulling her into a quick kiss.

Leah’s love for your uniform reached new heights when she discovered your old academy photos.

You were tidying up one weekend when she stumbled upon a framed picture of you in your cadet days. You had a clean-shaven look, your hat slightly too big for your head, and a proud but nervous smile.

“Oh my God,” Leah said, holding the photo up. “Is this you?”

You groaned, snatching it from her. “It was my first day at the academy. I look ridiculous.”

“You look adorable,” she said, trying to grab it back. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“Because I knew you’d never let it go,” you replied, tucking the photo into a drawer.

Leah crossed her arms, smirking. “I’m going to need you to recreate that look for me.”

“Absolutely not.”

But a week later, you came home to find Leah wearing a cheap police costume she’d bought online, complete with a toy badge and plastic cuffs.

“What do you think, Officer?” she asked, striking a dramatic pose.

You burst out laughing, doubling over as she tried to look serious. “That’s… that’s terrible,” you managed between laughs.

“Terribly accurate,” she quipped, tossing the toy cuffs at you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, pulling her into your arms.

“And you love it,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

One evening, as you were both cuddled on the couch, Leah turned to you with a mischievous look.

“If I ever got arrested for real, would you bail me out?”

You snorted. “Depends. What did you do?”

She pretended to think. “I don’t know, maybe I stole something… like your heart.”

You groaned, pushing her playfully. “That was awful.”

Leah laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “You love it.”

And, of course, you did.

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authorhjk1 · 6 months ago

Note

lewd thoughts on twice members handle their BFs who starting to get rough in the middle of sex

Nayeon

"Oh god, yes!"

Nayeon buries her face in the sheets as you fuck her faster. Your hands holding onto her waist, pulling her onto your cock, whenever you thrust forward. Surprised by your sudden roughness, Nayeon's back instinctively arches further, making her ass stick out even more. You lean over her a little further, fucking her right into the mattress.

Jeongyeon

"Not so fast. Someone will hear us."

Jeongyeon covers her mouth with one hand.

"You mean, someone will hear you."

But you do as she wishes and slow down. Your thrusts are as deep as ever though, making her head roll on the backrest. Jeongyeon's legs are raised in the air and you lean against them a little. You slowly fold her a little further, which makes her moan louder.

Momo

"Yes, harder!"

Momo moans louder as you start to thrust into her. So far, she has just been riding you, while you enjoyed playing with her bouncing tits. But now, you meet her hips with your own. Your hands on her waist, pulling her off your cock, before pulling her back down onto it. You force Momo to ride you faster. A second later, her glasses are gone. She throws her head back and her whole body shakes as she leans further away from you.

"I'm gonna cum!"

Her cry makes you fuck her harder, until Momo finally collapses on top of you.

Sana

"Oh gosh! Yes, baby! Do me faster!"

Sana's moans just seem to spill out of her mouth as you now nail her against the wall. Her white dress is bunched up around her waist. Anyone could come back in at any moment, ready to continue her photoshoot.

But you don't care, plowing this goddess of love into the wall. She moans louder and you capture her lips with yours. Silencing her is not an easy task, but Sana melts into the kiss. Her body becomes weaker, your hands that roam her body send sparks through her system.

Jihyo

"Not so fast, baby."

Jihyo gives you an amused grin, pushing your hands off her waist. You look up at her, as she keeps riding you slowly. You lean back against the backrest of your chair.

"Why don't you give me more attention and maybe I will go faster?"

Before you can react, Jihyo leans forward, burying your face in her cleavage. Her dress is long gone. But her tits look as big and beautiful as they looked when she was still wearing it. You happily kiss her skin and suck on her nipples, while Jihyo slightly picks up her pace. Her hands are locked at the back of your head, pulling you further into her.

Mina

You take a hold of Mina's waist, before driving yourself deeper into her. Her body gets rocked forward, her hips hitting the balustrade you've bent her over.

Feeling her tight ass squeezing your cock, makes you reach around her. You grope her tits over her top from behind, putting your weight on her small frame. Mina moans louder, but still tries to be quiet. The street isn't completely empty. Her breathing becomes heavier as you fuck her as harder. Then, Mina hisses in pain.

"Wait, wait, wait."

The pain in her voice makes you stop. The two of you back away a little. Mina looks down on herself. The balustrade has left a large red line on her skin, right above her pussy. Once you realize it wasn't your roughness that caused, you pull her back a step or two and bend her over again. This time, Mina is too far to actually bend over the stone, but her hands still hold onto it. Once again, you start to fuck her ass, quickly picking up the pace. Your hands firmly hold onto her hips as you become rougher. Her moans are probably echoing through the whole street.

Dahyun

"Oh my god! What did you do!?"

Dahyun looks angry as she turns her head. She is still on all fours on the bed. You standing behind her, your cock deep inside her snatch. You don't know what came over you either. You stand in place, frozen. Your hand still holding your belt, which she dropped on the bed earlier.

"Do it again."

A small smile plays on Dahyun's lips.

"But not this hard at first."

You nod, mumbling an apology, before you begin to fuck her again. When you bottom out inside of her Dahyun moans once more.

Another clap echoes through the room. Another bright red spot joins the first on her back, where you hit her with your leather belt. A sharp gasp escapes Dahyun's mouth as you hit her again.

"God, yes! Harder! I deserve it!"

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung starts whining and moaning as you fold her in half. Her ankles almost reach her ears as you put your weight on her. You enable yourself to fuck her deeper, making her mouth and eyes shoot wide open.

"Please...!"

You can see on her face, how her ability to form words slowly leaves her. The body she works so hard for,now shows signs of the little body fat she has as you force yourself even deeper.

"Breed me.... Please!"

Chaeyoung lets out another moan, knowing how close you just be by now. You kiss her one last time, making her whine into your mouth, before you pump her full of your seed.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu's head is hanging off the edge of the backrest. Her legs are still crossed, showing off her thick thighs as you fuck her pussy. She's usually a quiet girl, a moan only slipping past her lips from time to time.

Suddenly, you push her further onto the sofa, making Tzuyu land on her back. Now, you're able to thrust into her deeper. You feel her thighs rub against your hips with every thrust. You're tempted to just grab those. But you really want to make her scream. Reaching forward you grab a fistful of Tzuyu's blonde hair, right on top of her head. You see her wince in pain.

But as you start to increase your speed and force, Tzuyu becomes louder and louder. You keep pulling at her hair slightly, making her lean forward a little. You're free hand reaches forward as well, groping her tits through the light blue silk.

Like always, Tzuyu becomes a loud mess, whenever you involve yourself, pulling her hair. Tzuyu gets off to it, no matter the position. It's a sign of the power you have over her. The power that makes Tzuyu a wet, begging mess.

"Please harder, daddy."

Her cute moans increase in volume.

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azzibuckets · 1 month ago

Text

knot [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a little blurb inspired by azzi’s recent tiktok of her and paige at the madison reed shoot | masterlist

word count: 800

Paige loves the color purple.

Paige loves Azzi Fudd.

So to say Paige loves when Azzi Fudd is in purple would be an understatement. It had started off simple; the hair stylist Madison Reed had sent over had asked Azzi what colors she’d wanted to experiment with. Fully expecting Azzi to go with pink, as she’s done with everything else - her blankets, her favorite sweaters, her phone case and keychain - when the younger girl had opened her mouth and said purple, Paige’s mouth had dropped. And when Azzi had glanced over at her and smiled that sweet dimpled smile, she felt as if she’d just fallen a little more in love with her girlfriend.

And it just kept getting better. Brittany, who was in charge of styling the girls for the photoshoot, had decided to deck Azzi out in full purple to match her violet tinged hair: a red, pink, and purple stripped button up that she’d teasingly hiked up and bunched together at her waist, right above that belly button piercing and the line of her abs, and plum colored jeans that hugged Azzi’s ass a little too well.

Safe to say, Paige was a little too excited to drag Azzi into the bathrooms after the photoshoot.

“I like this pink on you.” Azzi caught a strand of dyed hair between her thumb and forefinger, examining it before twirling it around slowly. “You look sexy.”

Paige’s lips fell into a pout. “Don’t I always look sexy?”

Azzi smirked, her pupils darkening as her fingers dropped to the top button of Paige’s shirt, teasing it slowly out of its stitch. “Now you look especially sexy,” she corrected, her thumb brushing across Paige’s clavicle in a tantalizing trail.

“This shirt looks good on you.” Paige settled her hands on Azzi’s bare waist, enjoying the flex of Azzi’s abs under her palms as she backed her girlfriend into the counter sink. She pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw, not wanting to mess up any of her makeup. “But I’d like it better without the knot.” Her hands reached for the bottom of her shirt, eyes eager as she attempted to unravel the knot until her hands were slapped away.

“Owww,” Paige complained dramatically, her pout deepening.

“Not here,” Azzi warned with a roll of her eyes. “What’s everyone gonna say when I come out with my shirt undone?”

“Let them talk,” Paige whispered into her ear. Her head dipped into the crook of Azzi’s neck, breath hot on her skin. “Please, baby, you look so pretty,” she begged, her voice throaty and needy. “I gotta see you.” She pressed another kiss to Azzi’s neck, this time wetting the area with her tongue and sucking a little before pulling back with a little sigh.

Azzi shook her head fondly, running a hand softly through Paige’s scalp before pulling her in for a kiss. They moved carefully, hands lightly cupping each other’s jaws, breaths uneven and short, not wanting to lose all control in a bathroom while twenty people waited for them outside.

“Fuck, Az.” Paige forced herself to pull away, panting a little as she caught her breath. Lacing a hand with Azzi’s, she pressed her forehead to hers as she lightly squeezed her fingers. “Let me.”

“You’re trouble,” Azzi groaned. When Paige pressed another kiss to her lips, bright blue eyes hopeful, she relented. “Fine, but be quick.”

A grin overtook Paige’s face as she made quick work of the knot. The shirt promptly fell apart, but instead of immediately touching her, Paige merely stared in admiration as she pushed the shirt away from Azzi’s stomach and looked.

“Stop.” Azzi turned away and blushed. It sparked something fiery inside of her, Paige unashamedly studying her body as ifbit was a work of art. It must have been the millionth time she’d been vulnerable and open like this in front of the older girl, but it still felt like the first time, when Paige had been nervous, voice cracking and fingers trembling as she asked if it was okay to touch her. Now, years later, as her hands rested on Paige’s neck and her fingers felt Paige’s fluttery pulse quicken under her touch, the way Paige’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, it still felt the same - Paige swearing under her breath and thanking God that she was so lucky to find Azzi.

“Why would I stop? You’re fucking perfect.” Paige’s hands slipped easily across her abdomen, tracing patterns on her ribs as they wandered freely. “God, you’re not real.”

When they came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, Paige’s hair slightly mussed, both of their lips swollen and wet, Azzi’s shirt done in a haphazard, tangled knot that had almost no resemblance to how it looked before, Ice’s eyebrows shot up. “No fucking way,” she mouthed. “In the bathroom?”

Paige smirked triumphantly while Azzi elbowed her friend, cheeks a bright red. “We did not fuck in the bathroom, thank you very much.”

“But we almost did,” Paige added gleefully, earning a smack to the neck from her girlfriend.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige x azzi #fluff #paige bueckers x azzi fudd

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cheolism-archive · 4 months ago

Text

SLOW WORSHIP

✰ — lee seokmin x readeer ✷ — summary: a study in the worship of lee seokmin. ✰ — wc is approx. 1.3k ✷ — genre: smut, stand-alone, no plot only porn ✰ — warnings: blowjobs, cum swallowing, cumming-on-face, repeated use of the word embarrassing. ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: spur of the moment fic written in an hour lmao! the result of seokmin's new photoshoot!!! everyone can thank @onlymingyus for alerting me to the existence of these photos lol.

you drop to your knees like it's the easiest fucking thing in the world to do.

seokmin gets embarrassed at how you look up at him in awe. then his dick hardens further in his boxers, and he can feel wetness leak from the tip and he gets embarrassed further.

he feels ridiculous.

the robe they've put him into is faux fur, soft to the touch and in a deep brown. his pants are white and unbuttoned, pulled down low enough to expose the grey band of his boxers with red lettering.

he's half naked. he's dressed up as someone who is distinctly not him.

because seokmin truly doesn't feel like himself. if seokmin were to pick an outfit, it'd be a polo and jeans or some oversized sweater that reached down to the palms of his hands.

yeah: this feels like some sort of seokmin that is distinctly not him, but then --

but then you put your hands on his thighs and his mind goes blank.

even through the white fabric of his pants seokmin feels electrified by your touch. the weight of your hands is usually comforting, but now seokmin feels as if it's all he can pay attention to and he just wants more of it.

"what're you doing?"

you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants. you peel them down. it's slow going, and you have to move your hands beneath the brown robe to pull the waistband down over the curve of his ass.

the white pants fall around his ankles, the fabric bunching around his bare feet, and then you're pressing your face into his cock.

well, not into it. but your nose presses into the fabric, sliding along the curve of his dick through the grey boxers.

"fuck --" he groans out your name, long fingers tangling into your hair. seokmin tightens his grip on your hair. he wants to pull your face back. he wants you to stop doing something so mortifying.

because it is mortifying and embarrassing, but then you let out a hot exhale and seokmin pushes your face further against him.

"lemme," you murmur. you press your tongue against the bulge, and seokmin does a full-body shiver as you run your tongue up his dick. it's far different than when you do it without fabric separating his dick from your tongue, but his toes still curl.

it's the drag of it, leisurely and torturous; the warm and wet.

you mouth against his dick, and seokmin can't help but tip his head back in a moan.

"seokminie," you say. he glances down at you. you reward his attention by mouthing at the tip of his dick, and seokmin feels utterly humiliated by how his dick lets out a little spurt of cum, further wetting the boxers.

your hand goes up and cups his balls, thumb gently swiping over the fabric. seokmin groans and shivers.

"please," he says.

your hands go to the waistband of his boxers. you pull them down, though you're far slower with it than you were with his pants. you sit back on your knees, watching as the fabric clings to his thick golden thighs.

he whines out your name, and you laugh.

"don't worry, pretty boy," you coo. you pull down his boxers enough to where his dick springs free. it's fucking embarrassing how his dick, nearly on the far side of too-long, though his thickness is just-right, springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

his dick is an angry, dusky color. the veins are thick and particularly delicious, and the first thing you do once his dick is free is tip forward and press your lips to a vein.

mouth slick and plenty wet, you slide your tongue from the base of the vein to the tip. it's so slow and seokmin feels like he's on the verge of claiming it's torture.

you pay special attention to his dick veins, tongue treating each weaving line like royalty. you alternate the duration of the licks. some are lingering and worshipful; others, quick and eager. regardless of the duration, each is wet and delightful.

seokmin's balls feel so tight and heavy. he wants you to hurry up, wants you to take his dick down your throat, but.

your hands go to grip at his thighs. you can't wrap your hands around them, not even close. the tips of your fingers press into his flesh as you mouth at the base of his dick.

your hands slowly slide up. they slide up over his thighs, which were still slightly oiled from an earlier shoot session. your hands go to the jut of his hips, and then to his abdomen. you pet his stomach, palms sliding along the ridges of his abdomen.

then you grab his dick and seokmin fights against every bit of his being in an attempt not to cum.

you move up on your knees, guiding the dark tip into your mouth.

and if he thought he was going to cum before, then --

you take the head into your warm mouth. slowly, as you seem reluctant to do anything quickly this evening, you begin to press his dick further into the tormentful warmth of your mouth.

seokmin's dick is too big to fit into your mouth entirely. but you go until the tip is against the back of your tongue, and seokmin is torn between praising you and whimpering.

you worship his dick unhurriedly, drawing back gently. the slide of your tongue against his cock has his fingers curling in your hair, thighs tensing. you hold his hips in your hands as you languidly fuck his dick in and out of your mouth, nails leaving little indents in his flesh.

you pull off of his dick. you hold his dick with one hand, licking at the tip sweetly.

"baby," he whimpers.

you laugh at him, eyes crinkling. "can't believe you're dressed like this and here you are, whimpering like a dog for me."

seokmin pouts. you guide his head back into your mouth. you open your mouth wide, and then you're swallowing down around it once more.

your mouth is wet. your hands slide to his back, to his ass, and then you're pressing his hips forward. you push his hips towards you, forcing his dick further into your mouth, forcing it to press further and further.

once satisfied, you peer up at seokmin.

he groans.

seokmin begins fucking into your mouth. he watches with rapt attention. your spit makes his cock glisten with wetness, and when he pulls back far enough to where the tip is millimeters from your lips, there's a cute string connecting his dick to your mouth.

seokmin can't help but moan and fuck his dick back in.

you're so perfect.

he feels horribly hot in his robe despite it being the only thing he's wearing. the faux fur hangs down around him, and when he brings your face to his groin, fucking his cock back into the heat of your mouth, you're framed by the brown fur.

it's all so lavish and ridiculous. you on your knees, unashamedly for him. his expensive pants and boxers pooling around his feet, the even-more expensive robe bouncing with every thrust into your mouth.

seokmin sets a steady rhythm. he trusts into your mouth, swift and precise. he loves this. he loves the slick, wet noises of your mouth around his cock. he adores the little moans and whimpers you let out, the tears catching at your lashes.

your hands shift against him. you keep one hand on his hip, the other going down to his balls. you fondle them, smoothing your hand over them sweetly.

his balls tighten to the point of pain; his dick throbs.

seokmin cums down your throat. you can't take all of it. you have to pull off, gasping for air, and his thick white spunk stains your lips and face.

he can't help but feel a little ashamed. his cum marring your face, the way your lips are raw from your worship of him. how you grip the faux fur robe in both hands, face tilted up towards him, eyes shining.

it's all so embarrassing.

but then you're pulling off your own shirt and seokmin can't find it within himself to care too much.

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