#sandwich thinks too hard about life?

[sandwichhut]

I had to stop what I was doing today. Peeled off my safety goggles and gloves, put down the hammer and pallet knife. Sat down by the laptop and immediately ordered stuff for my gran's birthday, fretted about rebooking my hotel for a recent event, plans with friends and family, the current remodeling on my bathroom and i wondered why i felt so shitty. And it's because i'm living a life without realising it. It feels like i've been wandering step by step without knowing that i'm climbing a mountain and not looking back to the admire the view for a few quiet minutes. Sometimes you've gotta remember to Ghibli it. Stop, stand or sit still, and listen. Even if it's your neighbours talking shit about Jeff's hedge just absorb the stillness. Been four minutes already and I feel hell of a lot calmer. I hope you get your four minutes of quiet today too.

[secrosss]

my unpopular dunmesh opinion is that I think the touden sandwich is really neat

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤”

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫! - Ghostface gangbang (with one Michael Myers mask)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: celebrity!reader, guards! Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Satoru, Suguru and Kento, reader has healing abilities, knife kink/light cutting, no blood since reader heals, light bondage with chains, ghost face with one Michael Myers mask gangbang, you have tits for this, titty fucking, face/pussy slapping, pain kink, praise/degradation, pain kink, fingering/anal fingering, ass eating, face fucking/cock sucking, handjob, pussy slapping, toys, double/triple penetration, anal, hair pulling, spitting, spitting water in your mouth, cum swallowing, creampie, choking

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 14 minutes - 4k (of mostly nasty smut)

Oreo: this has reminded me why gangbangs are my favorite

Your phone lights up with a text, your Mom sent you a link. Opening it brings you to a page with a bright bold red header where it proclaims ‘Single for 1 year?! She can’t seem to get a date and goes to dinner alone!’

You scroll to see the attached picture of you surrounded with by your guards. “Oh! There is a trashy tabloid going around talking about my dating life. Apparently I was alone last night cause all six of you don’t count!”

Toji shrugs a large shoulder, “Who cares if it looks like you’re single, they don't need to know the truth.” The end of his blunt casts a red glow on Toji’s handsome face.

You sigh and click on the appearing text bubble, “My Mom is caring otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me to link to it. Along with; I won’t judge your choices, though I am worried about you not pursuing a relationship. Are they just not for you or did something happen?” A large warm body presses you against the cold glass railing of the balcony. Warm large hands squeeze your hips.

You look up into Sukuna’s face, your head resting against his chest. “What are you gonna tell her?” Toji nudges Sukuna’s arm to get him to take the fat blunt.

Looking out at the city below. “I’m sure as hell not saying that I’m fucking all of the personal guards they hired for me and that y’all cock-block any dating opportunities that come my way.”

He grabs your hair yanking your back holding the blunt to your lips. He sneers, “We do plenty of sharing between each other. Who else could you need.” Sukuna pulls the blunt away, and you blow a large puffs of smoke into the night’s sky.

Toji adds on, “‘Side we all cuddle you, take you out on dates, we switch out who sleeps in the bed with you. You had six different valentines.” He leans against the glass railing. Tugging on your robe’s ribbon causing it to fall open.

Satoru announces, “Oo someone tweeted what if she is fucking one of the guards. She close, but it isn’t just one, you’re too much of a cock hungry whore for only one.” Leaning up against the glass on the other side of you Satoru joins Toji in fondling your soft breasts. Swirling his soft thumb over your nipple, getting it hard.

You’ve been waiting all day to be sandwiched in between your guards. With one pressing their hard cock into your lower back while two play with your tits. You slowly inhale the harsh smoke from the blunt that Sukuna holds to your lips.

Suguru looks at Satoru’s phone then lightly hits Satoru’s shoulder.“You should unlike it they’re gonna think it’s you, that choice is up to her, if she decides to make it.” Taking the short blunt from Sukuna to puff on.

Satoru rolls his eyes before removing his like, “Ok ok.” Sukuna roughly smacks your ass and steps away for Satoru to sweep you off your feet.

You think about it aloud, “If they got a screenshot of that then my actions with all you are going to be heavily analyzed.” Spreading your fingers out on his chest, looking up at him as he carries you to the sex room. “Especially with you, going out the two of us is gonna be seen differently, tea channels are gonna have a field day.”

Satoru smiles, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing some of the shipping content out there.” A few of your fans had created some fanart of your guards and you. Which you saved to your phone.

He points out, “This will only give them a little fuel for their ships.” He kisses the top of your head and you’re wondering if you should play into it a little.

You admit, “Is is a bit fun to see. And who could blame me, especially with how unprofessional three of you were from the start, my pussy didn’t stand a chance.”

You dig your painted nails into Satoru’s chest, leaving bright pink lines. “It’s mostly your fault, you were the first one.”

Satoru teases you, “The way you were practicing drooling over me after I unbuttoned my shirt a little too cool off had me wanting to put your pretty mouth to use and I’ll do it again.” You bite his chest, his hold doesn’t waver but his pace does as he moans.

Sukuna walks past and pushes the door open, “Let’s go ahead n’ tie her up with some chains.” When Satoru carries you throug.

Kento and Choso have a ghost face mask on. Are they all going to be wearing one? Your pussy hopes they do.

Satoru drops you on the bed, straightening you out on your back, folding your legs by your side. Kneeling at the edge of the bed to kiss your wet cunt. Gliding his tongue in, you slip your hands into his soft white hair.

Suguru walks up, mask on and with the Michael Myers one in hand. Which Satoru pulls away to grab when Suguru nudges him with it. “Happy early Halloween, it’s close enough right? I figured why not do something a little seasonal.” He climbs onto the bed and yanks you into the middle by your hair.

Kento gets on the bed next to you, his hard cock swinging, you love how he’s so heavy he hangs. His voice is soothing, “What do you think about this?”

You gently grab Kento’s thick cock swirling your thumb on his cockhead. “I wanna be gangfucked till the sun rises or I pass out.” You kiss the freckle close to his pre-cum dripping slit you adore.

Satoru praises, “‘Course you do beautiful, we are gonna fuck your pretty ass stupid.” Satoru straddles your neck and part of your face. When you look down all you see are his balls.

He squeezes your fat, soft tits together with his cock in between. “Pour some lube on her tits for me Choso.” His balls are so close to your face. Lifting your head up to lick and suck on Satoru’s nuts.

Choso joins you on the bed whilst reminding you. “You’re safe word is melons remember to say yellow if you need us to slow down, and red for a break.” He grabs your hand, pouring lube into your palm. Then guiding your hand to his cock for you to stroke.

You hold your other hand out for some lube to jerk Kento off. Choso then squirts a generous amount onto your breasts. It slowly drips until Satoru smears it with slow strokes of his cock.

Satoru groans, “I want to cover her in cum, her beautiful face, soft tits, squishy thighs and her gorgeous cunt.” Slowly fucking your beautiful soft breasts. Whilst enjoying your warm mouth on his soft balls.

Jerking Choso and Kento off, swirling your hand slowly along their cocks. Swiping your thumb over their heads and keeping your pace steady.

Sukuna groans, “I’m fuckin her beautiful, sofa ass into a gapping mess. Seeing her in that skin tight gown all night, I know y’all know what I’m talking about.” Two different hands spread your legs apart, one rougher than the other. “Makin’ her ass look like a delicious peach.”

Arching your hips down from the sudden intense vibrations from toy on your clit. Laying your head back on the bed with a loud moan. Another hand presses on your stomach keeping you still.

Your thighs tremble, and your cunt quivers when you feel a wet tongue swirl around your tight asshole. “Nnnn! Plug your cum inside my ass when you’re done.” Moaning as he quickly pushing his tongue in to you. Both of your holes clench as you feel two small, smooth warm metal balls of Sukuna’s tongue piercing.

Satoru ruts his hips faster, gliding his long cock between your soft fat breasts. Squishing them together with his large hands, his groans are loud and breathy.

You love hearing all of them groan, moan, and whines as they enjoy themselves. If they weren't there you could masturbate listening recording to the sounds they make when they cum.

Whining, “It’s too much!” The pressure is intense, you’re unable to pull your hips away they follow your clit with the toy.

You can hear the jiggle of chains as the bed dips with someone’s weight.

“But I just started, how could it be too much already?” The condescension dripping from Suguru’s tone has your cheeks burning. “Besides isn't this what you wanted?” Suguru slowly swirls the toy increasing the pressure till it borders on painful.

Toji says, “Go ahead n’ tie the chains around her tits and neck.” Satoru smothers you with his balls by sitting on your face. Wrapping your breasts by coiling the chains around them once. Then moving back wrap it around your throat. He tugs on both ends squeezing your neck and tits.

Kento grabs your wrists, using your hand to get themselves off. Kento’s guides your hand slower, as he massages your breasts. His gentle touch is always a wonderful contrast to how rough the other’s get.

“I can't believe I'm getting off on this, I've become a dirty old pervert for your beautiful tits and soft pussy.” It made Kento’s cock rock hard seeing the chain wrapping around your tits, squishing the plump fat, whilst restricting some blood flow. You had corrupted him.

Choso groans, “Your hand feels so soft on my cock.” Grabbing your fist to keep it still so he can fuck your hand. Gently rubbing your hard nipple with his thumb,

Satoru pulls the chains again strangling your cry and pulling your body taunt. Your hands pause as you try to focus on not squeezing Choso and Kento.

“Don’t yank on her too hard, the chains are already harsh.” Kento drags a finger along the chain wrapped around your breast, feeling the soft fat spilling over.

Satoru eases up, but keeps the chain tight around your throat. Smacking his long, pale cock on your face whilst you suffocate. Rubbing his cock head along your lips, his pre-cum tastes so sweet. Opening your mouth, Satoru glides his cock in quickly.

Choso grabs the chain from Satoru’s hand, “Deep breaths.” He waits for you to catch your breath. Peeling up his mask to softly kiss you, sliding his tongue past your lips when you moan.

Satoru groans stroking his cock next next to your face. “The camera is recording what a whore you are. We are going to show you tomorrow, have you ride a dildo, and play with your asshole while you watch it. How does that sound?”

Choso lifts his head, holding his cock near your face. “Can you deep throat my fat cock with your pretty mouth?” You kiss his cockhead before softly licking up the mess up pre-cum. Then taking him deep into your mouth with a loud groan. Fondling his large balls with one hand.

Satoru jerk his fist faster watching you suck Choso off. “You’re such a good lil’ cock sucker. Are you getting off having Choso’s fat cock in your mouth while Sukuna eats your ass.” You groan to respond, closing your watery eyes.

You switch in between licking and sucking on one cock to pay attention to the other. Resting your tired hand on the bed, before giving up on moving your head too. As Choso and Satoru turn your head from side to side, taking turns fucking your mouth.

Kento slides your hand off his cock to rub himself against your plump, soft breast. “I’ll give you a massage after being a good girl for us tonight.” Nudging your fat with his fat cock head, smearing pre-cum on you.

Kento guides your hand back to his cock. “Before we take the chains off I want to take a picture of you laying here looking sexy covered and dripping cum. I can’t get enough of seeing you looking fucked out.” It’s one of the main reasons he got hooked on joining in on the planned gangbangs Satoru would get the other’s in on.

Two thick fingers into your dripping wet cunt with a soft squelch. “Look at this, she’s already soaking wet, you’re a depraved whore say it.” Toji’s deep voice is unmistakable. Your soaking wet pussy quivering around his thick fingers as the pressure and pleasure build in tandem.

Satoru nudges your cheek, smearing some pre-cum on it. Choso glides his cock out with a loud pop. “I’m a depraved whore, I love being a dirty slut please use me to help you cum.” Turning your head taking Satoru’s cock. He smacks your lips then sets a quick and merciless pace, gagging you with his long, veiny dick.

Suguru rubs your clit a little faster, easing up on the intense pressure. Working with Toji to get you off while Sukuna enjoys himself with your ass. Holding out three fingers prompting Choso to grab the near by bottle of lube to pour some onto them.

Your ass stretches for three thick probing fingers that can reach deeper than his tongue can. Scissoring his fingers apart rough, pumping them quickly, making your body slightly bounce.

You’re getting off on how six muscular masked men are entertaining themselves with your ass, cunt, clit, tits, hands and mouth. You’re hoping they trap a mixture of their cum inside you with a plug.

Toji points out, “I think she’s gonna cum n’ so fucking quickly. I don't think she should cum yet. No reason why other than fuck her.” Suguru lifts the vibrator off your clit as Toji glides his fingers out.

Sukuna keeps playing with your ass, it’s enough that you can taste that sweet peaking orasgamic high of cumming.

Sukuna mocks you, “You’re a dirty slut, look at that! The bitch kind of came anyway.” some creamy cum drip from your small quivering hole he sneers, “Looks like you only ruined it for her.” He pinches your sensitive clit making your hips jerk back. Stuffing some of your slick into your ass with each pump of is thick fingers.

Toji states, “She deserve it for being a filthy whore.” Someone smacks your cunt, once, twice, you stop counting after the fourth. Trembling you have to fight the urge to twist your hips away as your cunt stings.

Choso croons, “Are they being mean to your pretty cunt?” He leans down “She was good and took all those hits we should let her cum.” Satoru pulls his Michael Myers mask up to spit on your face.

Suguru holds the pulsing toy to your stinging, throbbing clit. The sweet pleasure easing some of the stinging pain. You focus on each quick circling motion of the toy eager to cum.

You’re begging them, “I wanna cum! Please lemme cum! I wanna make a mess!” Whining as the three thick fingers in your ass glide out.

A pulsing thin toy nudges your wet hole, which easily gives for the toy. It’s size getting thicker the more you take. Till you reach a thick knot that won’t slide in easily. Causing him to have to use a little more force.

Arching your hips, your eyes sting with tears as your ass throbs from taking the thick knot. “I hope that fuckin’ hurt dumb lil slut, I wanna see and hear you crying! Your ass looks so hot taking all of it. I wonder,” he tugs on the toy’s short stumpy handle. The knot isn’t budging, tugging on your ass, too thick to slip out like his fingers did.

Your thighs are burning as they tremble. A large hand on your stomach keeps you from moving too much. They are all working in together to keep you from getting away.” Choso straddles your neck fills your mouth with his cock. Abandoning the chain leash as he grabs your hair and fucks your throat.

You can’t tell who wraps your hand around their thick cock but you don’t care. You too drunk off the overstimulation to focus on moving your hand. So they jerk them off, swirling your fist, swiping your thumb over their cock head. They’re so warm and heavy in your palm, you want them inside any of your wet holes.

Your moans creating pleasurable vibrations that make him messily rut his hips. “Nnnn when she moans goddamm, I wanna cum in her mouth.” He fucks your moan faster, gagging you when he gives you all of his cock. Choso is so much thicker than Satoru, making it harder to deep throat him.

Satoru suggests, “Let’s play a game she has to guess whose fucking her from the back. Then she can cum.” Choso glides his cock out, Kento let’s your hand go, Suguru lifts the toy off your clit causing you to whine.

Choso carefully gets you on all fours, then orders you, “Keep your eyes forward you can suck Kento and I’s cocks but don't cheat by peaking.” He moves over for Kento to kneel beside him. Just having their large cocks in your face shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. You feel like such a dirty, cock hungry slut.

Holding both cocks, moaning as you give Kento attention. Closing your eyes and enjoying feeling his thick cock slide along your tongue. His head nudging your throat, going deeper till you’ve taken every inch.

You hold your head still letting Kento enjoy the wet, tight warmth of your throat. As it squeezes him, your body softly jerking as you gag.

Kento moans, “Nnnn fuck me that feels so gooood when you take me just like that. You’re so beautiful, nnn,” bobbing your head, quickly taking Kento’s fat cock. “wrapping you pretty lips, hhhhn sucking me off like you need my cum.” Gliding him out with a loud pop and kissing beneath Kento’s cockhead.

A cockhead too fat to be Satoru’s lines up with your cunt. Your thoughts linger in between Toji and Suguru when you don’t feel Sukuna’s piercing beneath the large cock head.

Kento slowly rocks his hips, slowly fucking your wet mouth. Causing spit to drip down your chin which smears onto his balls when they brush against.

A cold knife drags along your cheek, causing you to tense up then squirm. The cut heals seconds after he creates it. One, two three and fuck! You’re so full of someone’s thick, veiny cock.

You’re sandwich in between Kento, Choso and one of your guards. The thought of that is getting you. toy for them to fuck until their balls are empty.

Clenching the fat cock whilst listening for a single groan or any vocal indication of who is fucking you. As they slide the knife across the bottom of your back.

If they would groan once you would know if it’s Toji or Suguru. You focus on the way their fucking you to try and decide between the two. It’s hard to focus for too long, whoever it is hitting your soaking wet pussy in a perfect, eye rolling, toe curling and pussy clenching angle.

He grabs the short handle of the toy vibrating in your ass. The thick knot slides in and out of you a little easier after your asshole got used to it.

Slowly glide the blade along your thigh and stuffing the toy in deep, the vibrations pulsing stronger than before. He made it intense, you swear you can feel it in your cunt.

Smacking your cheek with a large hand, the strike is to quick for you to get a good judge off whose hand it is.

Kento’s pace is getting sloppy, as he ruts into your mouth a little faster. His broad shoulder curling in as he trembles. His tight tensing up as he bites his bottom lip. Thick warm cum spurts into your mouth, he tastes so sweet, it’s so thick and creamy on your tongue.

Stuffing his cum into your throat with a messy thrust then gliding his cock out. “Thank you darling, l needed that.” Choso moves over as Kento leans down, grabbing your throat. His thick fingers pressing the chains into your neck as he lifts you up to kiss your forehead.

You can’t glance behind you in time before Choso stops you from breaking the rule. As Kento gets off the bed slowly pulling off the mask, and taking a seat to watch.

You whine, “Not fair, moan once! Say anything!” You bounce back, pressing your ass and thighs flush against him. The thighs pressing against your’s are thick, with muscles too hard to be Suguru. He is incredibly well built, but Toji’s muscles are something else.

The muscles of his arms, thighs and abs had a harsh rigidness the other didn’t. His body feels like a greek statue that’s has life breathed into it. With a waist that feels too damn slutty.

You whine, “Toji!” He grabs a handful of your ass and the roughness of his hand lets you know you’re right. Your body roughly rocks forward with his next harsh thrusts.

Toji groans, his deep voice sounds so damn good when he’s getting off. It’s a smooth, deep sound that is the cherry on top.

You’re squirting on Toji’s far veiny cock. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The toy vibrating in her ass fuck I can feel it. Fuck it’s like her pussy is a vibrating toy clenching me. So fuckin’ wet!” He pumps the in your ass in time with thrusts, his strength keeps the toy’s knot from catching.

His fat cock twitches slightly, and the pulse in his veins feels like he’s throbbing inside you. “Nnnn I want someone to fuck his cum into me. Please lemme cum on your thick cock too.”

Sukuna declares in confusion, “Was that cheating?!”

Satoru defense your case, “We only said she couldn’t look back, using her body to feel up Toji isn’t against the rules. Meaning our chain bound slut gets to cum on our cocks tonight.”

“You’re going to bully her anyway.” You glance over at Suguru, a blunt between his lips, and his dark hair pulled back. With a few locks of his bangs framing his handsome face.

He winks, snuffs out the blunt and pulls his mask on. “Let’s switch.” Toji slowly glides his cock out smacking your cum dripping cunt with the flat of the knife.

Toji groans, “Her slutty lil’ cunt looks so good dripping my cum.” He dips his head down and glides his tongue in. “What a messy pussy squirting on me like that.” He stretches your hole apart to see how his white cum looks against the pink insides of your pussy. Before walking off, the blunt that Suguru ashed out on his mind. Passing the knife to Sukuna.

Choso grabs the chain leash and says, “Wrists behind your back.” He carefully binds your wrists, making your bsck softly arch, pushing your bound breasts forward.

Sukuna roughly yanks the toy out of your ass. Replacing it with a different one, the wildly vibrating model made after his cock. He orders, “Sit up, let Choso get underneath you so he can use your pretty cunt to get himself off whilst I double stuff your ass.”

Sukuna smacks your ass, grabbing the long chain between your neck and shoulders. Yanking you upright before you can move for yourself.

Choso leans back on his heals, thighs spread apart letting his heavy cock hang in between. “I want her to myself when y'all are done.” He gets off the bed and takes the blunt Toji passes.

You ask Choso, “What are you planning for me handsome?”Watching him jerk his cock slowly. His cock with it’s far head, upward curve and two puffy veins is pussy watering. Especially when he slides his hand down and his heavy, long cock start to droop. He’s perfect cock is so heavy, long, and thick.

You’re folding at the sight Choso with his ghost face mask on, his broad muscular chest, hard abs, and thick, pale tattooed arm. Choso looks good manspreading, his thighs are perfect to ride.

Sukuna stuffed ass with his fat cock makes it nearly impossible to listen to Choso explain, “You want some ghostface roleplay, how can I tell your pretty self no? I'm going to chase you around then pin you down and fuck you at knife point for a happy early Halloween.”

You look up at Sukuna’s masked face when he loudly moans, “You’re right, fuck n’ I thought she was like a toy before hand. But this, her vibrating double stuffed ass clenching my cock is gonna make me cum too quickly.”

Suguru climbs into the bed laying down and holding his cock up. “Let me feel our slutty mama’s pretty whore pussy on my fat cock. Sukuna holds a knife to your throa, taking the moment to himself to roughly fuck your ass.

Suguru strokes his cock, watching as the tears slip down your cheeks. Your pussy is dripping Toji’s cum as Sukuna pounds your ass. “She looks so hot when she’s helpless.”

Sukuna grunts, “It’s not enough, I wanna break her, fuck her ass till she can't move..” Sukuna digs the knife’s tip into your throat, blood slowly trickles down before he eases up.

Satoru chimes, “Tell me whose cum taste better, Kento’s or mine!” Whilst joining Sukuna, Suguru and you on the bed.

Kento passes Satoru a water bottle, his cock already half hard. “Since you like spitting so much you can spit some water into her mouth first.“

Sukuna encourages, “Fuckin cry you stupid sexy lil brat!” He slides the knife across your throat, over your shoulder and down your side. He drags the knife in a swirl over your cheek, your healing keeping up with as fast as he can cut. The stinging like the cut is fleeting, reigniting when he smacks your cheek with the large knife.

Sukuna drops the knife to folds your legs by your sides. Stopping with his cock balls deep and the toy still vibrating inside you. He makes you take Suguru’s thick cock in your sore sensitive cunt quickly.

The combination of their cocks and the toy stretching the skin between both holes taunt. They aren't moving and you’re already on the verge of overtimulation. Suguru slides his soft hand up your stomach towards your breasts.

You look down at Suguru, you can't get over how hot they look in their mask. “I want all six of you to stage a break in and then use me wearing these mask for the festive Halloween season is over.”

Suguru croons, “You’re such a dirty slut for us. You want it even rougher and nastier don't you?” You’re squirming on Sukuna’s and Suguru’s fat cocks. Rubbing Sukuna’s cock piercing inside your ass.

Suguru strokes your clit with his thumb. You’re still so sensitive from squirting on Toji’s cock. Both holes quiver clenching Suguru and Sukuna large cocks.

Sukuna lets both of your legs go, grabbing the near by knife. Gliding it along the harsh chains leaving imprints on your soft breast. Dragging it up the supple curve, Sukuna presses the tip into your sensitive nipple making you squirm.

Satoru drinks some water, squishes both cheeks with one large hand then spits water into your open mouth. The second you swallow it and open your mouth for more Sukuna yanks your head back.

“Hurry and pour it in her mouth.” His rough thrusts are slowly picking up pace. He can't wait any longer, your soft wet ass is clenching his cock begging him to fuck you.

Sukuna’s cock is wonderfully punishing. Stretching and slamming into you with toe curling, body quivering strength. You love how Sukuna fucks you like a toy.

Satoru pours water into your mouth, some of it trickles down your chin and neck as you do your best chug. Whilst Sukuna drags the sharp blade along your soft nipple. You choke and before you can regain your breath Sukuna is shoving over Suguru and Satoru is stuffing his cock in your open mouth.

Spit drips down your chin as he roughly fucks your throat. Gagging you and crooning “Aw she’s crying how fuckin’ hot, look up at me.” You do your best to look up at Satoru’s white mask, his bright blue eyes not covered by black fabric.

You get glimpses of a feral, hungry and playful looking in his piercing blue eyes. You would beg for him to keep fucking you till his balls can't make anymore cum if it wasn't for his cock in your mouth.

It feels so good to have three handsome masked men roughly fucking you. You’re their cum and cock hungry slut. It’s the only thought going through you head.

The wooden frame of the bed groan in protest as they roughly fuck their hard, throbbing cocks into you. Suguru’s fondles your sore breasts, squeezing your side gently. Whilst mercilessly fucking up your sensitive squelching pussy.

You’re quickly losing the ability to think. Why should you anyway when all you need to be is their cock drunk whore.

Suguru brings up, “Let’s place bets on long she can last before the six of us are too much for her. After Choso we can pass her down the line until her slutty ass n’ cunt can’t handle anymore cock n’ cum.”

Oreo’s m.list

[bredforloyalty]

time to be uncouth,

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[cursedyuri]

WILL YOU SHUFFLE ME, SPREAD ME APART?

summary: in the slums of zaun, you’ve carved out a life for yourself which not many would envy. you spend your nights in the arms of strangers, trading coin for hasty touches and labored breaths. and since such a line of work isn’t always enough to keep yourself fed and clothed, you have a second service to offer: fortune telling. 

or... two times vi comes knocking, and a third time you let her in.

18+ only! smut below. cw for fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of sex work, brief mentions of blood. 7k words.

The heels of your boots click against damp cobblestone, wet thumps echoing through the dingy alleyway leading to Babette’s brothel. It’s a particularly humid night, even despite the chill in the air - the humidity makes it worse, you think. It feels like the cold is seeping into the very marrow of your bones. 

You pull your cloth coat tighter over your torso, thankful when you rap on the brothel’s wooden door and are allowed in almost instantly. One step through the threshold, and the biting cold melts like early-spring snow. The air is thick here, too, but warm and smoky. Tobacco stings sweet in your nose, a cocktail of too-strong perfumes mixing with ribbons of incense that linger suspended midair. It’s an intoxicating kind of smell, one that makes weak women and weaker men feel more inclined to spend their hard-earned coin on a night with a stranger. 

Part of you is hoping none will choose you tonight. It’s not that you’re opposed to it - gods know you’d be in the wrong line of work if you were. Rather, you’ve got plans to eat the meager dinner you’ve purchased for yourself, sip some red wine, and rifle through your cards for answers about what’s been going on topside lately. You’ve heard murmurs of an attack, rebellion… You’re not exactly sure what to believe, so as you often do, you look to the cards for clarity. 

The deck sits idly by a thicket of half-burnt herbs on your desk, stacked precariously where you’d last used them. You shed your coat and hang it on a brass hook by the desk, then slide into the seat in front of it. Still thawing, you sink into the velvet cushion and reach into your knapsack for the paper-wrapped sandwich inside, also procuring an unmarked bottle of wine from beside it. You’re wiping an iron goblet clean with the fabric of your tiered skirt when a familiar voice calls your name from the doorway. It’s one of the other workers here, Nina. She’s been here just about as long as you.

“You might hate me,” she says, a preface that makes your lips turn downward in a frown. 

You grunt, uncorking your wine and pouring a hearty serving into your goblet. By the sounds of it, you’ll need the liquid courage. “I just sat down, you know.”

Nina’s delicate brows pull together; maybe she’s feeling apologetic, or maybe she’s just laying it on thick so you’ll take a job before you’ve even had dinner. 

“I thought so, but… I think you’ll like her, peach.” She pauses for a beat. “And if you take her, I may have some chocolate I’d consider parting with.”

“Bribery,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips as you roll your eyes at Nina’s offer. “But fine. Send her in.”

“Will do, peach,” Nina practically squeals, disappearing from your doorway just as quickly as she’d come. 

Cursing under your breath, you take a swig of wine and turn to the tarnished mirror behind your desk, examining yourself. By some stroke of luck, you’d had the sense to put on a layer of makeup before you’d gone out earlier. Blemishes are covered, your eyes are rimmed with kohl, and a smear of rouge emphasizes the pouty shape of your lips. That’s all you ever need, paired with the eye-catching swell of your breasts against the low-cut linen of your blouse. This will be easy enough.

You’ve drained half the wine in your cup by the time your client knocks at the open door. You turn your head to greet her and, before you can get a word out, the door slams closed with a heavy thud. At first, you gawk at the client because of her notable entrance - but then, you gawk because Nina was right. You like her.

This girl looks like the undercity chewed her up, spit her out, then chewed her up again. She’s all sharp edges and leather and lipstick, black makeup smeared from her eyes to her cheeks. Her hair’s black, too, though you can see patches of red exposed from an uneven dye job and a few heavy-handed washes. She’s certainly achieved the menacing look she’s sought out, and though it’s a mighty contrast to her pale complexion and piercing blue eyes, it somehow works for her - she’s the kind of girl you wouldn’t mind getting dirty for. 

“Good evening,” you say, because it’s all you can seem to think of to break the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

The client surveys you up and down with those icy blue eyes, working her jaw. She nods. “What do you have?”

“Wine, whiskey, gin,” you tell her, gesturing to the makeshift bar cart beside a loveseat at the entrance of your suite. Different colored liquors fill antique, mismatched bottles at different levels. The client glances over at them, steps up to the cart and surveys that, too. Then she turns to you, gestures to your goblet.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” 

You nod. “Wine it is, then. Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.” 

She obliges, lowering herself onto the plum fabric of the loveseat. Her legs are spread just so - enough to make it obvious that this woman is used to taking up space, and unafraid of what that kind of confidence might imply. Your eyes linger on her parted knees, but not long enough to get caught. After you fill up a goblet for her and refill your own, you glide across the room to hand her the drink. She accepts it with a nod of thanks, her fingertips brushing against yours in the process. You take a seat beside her.

“What’s your name?” You regard her behind fluttering lashes, sipping from your freshly filled goblet. The wine is sweet on your tongue, bitter around the edges. You can already feel it loosening your muscles, relaxing your inhibitions. Piquing your curiosity, even. 

The client takes a swig from her own drink and says, “Vi.” 

Vi. Her name is tattooed on her cheekbone, you muse, gaze sweeping over her face once again. There’s a silver hoop pierced through her nose, a scar etched into her upper lip. A healing bruise on her left jaw catches your eye, blooming faint shades of purple, yellow, and green. You’re afflicted with an urge to reach out and touch it - to touch her. But when she catches your gaze with those steely eyes of hers, you’re frozen. Like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar, your cheeks flush hot. Vi seems amused by your appraisal, cracks a smile that looks somehow natural on her war-torn face. 

She cuts through the tension like a spearhead, one hand reaching forward to readjust the sleeve of your blouse, which had fallen down your shoulder. Her fingertips are cold and calloused, but the touch fills you with uncharacteristic warmth. “What’s your name?” 

You tell her and she repeats it, that sultry voice curling around every syllable of your name as if she were tasting it. 

However intoxicating Vi’s voice might be, it dawns on you again what she’s doing here. She’d paid for your time, paid to sip your wine and touch you with those split-knuckled hands of hers. You have the sense to wonder why - a woman like Vi should have no trouble warming her bed for free, yet here she is.

“Well, Vi,” you say, pausing briefly for another sip of wine, “how do you want me?”

If your straightforwardness bothers her, she doesn’t show it. She brushes dark locks of her out of her eye-line, seemingly considering your answer. Then: “I heard you tell fortunes.”

You quirk a brow at her. “I—yes. Is that what you want?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “Among other things.”

“It’s extra for that,” you clarify. “The fortune-telling, I mean.”

“I have enough.”

And that settles it. You uncross your legs, stand up and move to retrieve your deck of cards from the desk. There’s a table in front of the loveseat where Vi still sits, and that’s where you lay out an ornate silk cloth to spread the cards upon. You gather the thicket of herbs from your desk, too, along with a match. Vi watches you set fire to the sprigs, a stream of smoke billowing upwards and filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent. 

“What questions do you have?” You ask, settling down upon a floor pillow on the opposite side of the table from Vi. After you set down your goblet of wine, you pick up the deck and begin to shuffle; the fluttering sounds of cards fills the silence before Vi can answer.

“Do I need to ask questions?”

“No, I guess not,” you respond, shoulders shrugging. “I can just see what the cards say about you.”

Vi nods her assent, tossing her head back to finish what’s left of her wine. One by one, cards fly out from the deck as you shuffle, some upright, some inverted. When you’ve circulated through the deck once or twice with no other cards presenting themselves, you stop. 

“Five of cups,” you read aloud. The card’s illustration depicts a figure in a black cloak, turned away, three emptied cups at her feet. Behind her are two upright cups, unnoticed. “Loss. Mourning.”

Vi inhales sharply through her nose, and when you look up at her, she’s white-knuckled with her hand around the stem of her now-empty goblet. You lift your brows in a wordless question - should you continue? 

She nods.

“Something didn’t work out as you’d planned it, and you’re too stubborn to let go. Instead, you lament the loss and let it hold you hostage.” 

There’s a sound like Vi humming, a quiet acknowledgement of your words as you move to the next card. 

“Four of wands, reversed - this tells me you’ve been separated from loved ones. This is what didn’t work out as planned, maybe?” 

When you look at Vi this time, she’s leaning forward in her seat, forearms braced against her strong thighs. 

“Maybe,” she echoes. “What else is there?”

You show her the next card, another inverted one. The illustration depicts a man in ornate clothing, a flower plucked between his fingers as he prances confidently towards the edge of a cliff. “The fool, reversed.” 

“That’s me?” Vi asks. “The fool?” 

“Hm, not always. But with the other cards… You are the fool, Vi, I’m sorry to say it.” You hope she catches the tinge of playfulness in your tone, serious as the reading feels. Heavy as the tension feels.

“Well,” she starts, “the cards don’t lie, I guess.”

You hum in agreement. “The fool, reversed this way, tells me that you’re reckless. Lacking caution, you’ve opened yourself up to betrayal.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” Vi laughs without humor, tries to drink the last crimson drops of the wine in her goblet. “Can I get some more?”

You move to get up and fetch her the bottle, but she waves a hand to dismiss you. She’s up and across the room in a flash, refilling her cup and taking a swig before she’s even made it back to the loveseat. 

“But…” You hold up her final card - judgement. The art depicts an angel blaring into a trumpet from the heavens, the humans below rejoicing. Her eyes assessing the card, Vi looks to you for an explanation.

“Judgement tells us that renewal and transformation is possible,” you finish

“Renewal, transformation... Right. What’s the catch?”

Smart woman, you think. There’s always a catch. 

“You have to be willing to let go of what’s held you stagnant. Accept what’s behind you and focus on what’s ahead, because wallowing in misfortune does you no good.”

That seems to resonate, because Vi’s expression turns shadowy, thoughtful. She drinks again, her lips nearly purple from the wine. You take a moment to drink from your own cup, ready to ask Vi if she wants you to undress yourself, or if she’s the kind of client who wants to do it for you. 

Instead, you’re stunned into silence when she polishes off her drink, slams the cup down onto the table, and stands. Her jaw is locked again, tense. 

“Vi?” Your brows lift in question. 

“Thank you,” she says. She moves towards the door, then stops when she seems to remember something. One bandaged hand digs into her jacket pocket, emerging with a handful of coin. She places it on the nearest surface, a small table with a lamp glowing atop it, and only glances back towards you before she vanishes out the door. 

There’s a draft in the room, suddenly. You curl into bed, pull the covers over your goosebump-afflicted skin, and think.

The days following Vi’s visit dawn bleak and cold as ever. Nina asks about your client the following morning, and you let her bask in the satisfaction that you had liked her, but you politely break the news that she’d been nothing particularly special - a white lie to keep the questions at bay. You’re not one to run your mouth; besides, rumors spread through Babette’s brothel like wildfire. 

Some of the latest rumors? There’s a man with magical abilities lurking in the shadows of Zaun, with a touch that heals the sick. There’s a blue-haired revolutionary forming a significant following in the undercity, those of whom claim she’ll free them from Piltover’s brutality. You’re not sure what to believe, but there must be some truth to the rumors, because your cards sense something afoot: the tower, ten of swords, ace of cups. 

Still, business continues as usual. Degenerates and saints alike seek your company, and you need the money to survive, so your bed is always warm. 

Because you’ve had dozens of clients over the years who visit and never return, you don’t expect to see Vi again. Still, your mind keeps returning to her - you wonder why she’d stormed out so suddenly, why she’d paid you for sex without laying a finger on you. The curiosity lingers in the back of your mind, but you counter it with reality: she’d probably chickened out. Heard something too striking in her reading and couldn’t follow through, but decided to pay for your time anyway. At most, it was a kind gesture. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about her? 

Weeks pass, and your routine continues. Tonight’s another late night, and you’re relaxing after several clients in a row. You’d bathed in water treated with salts and oils, the scents still clinging to your skin as you rub salve into your aching muscles. The last few clients had been rough - twisting your limbs, working you into positions that tested your flexibility and endurance as they used their tongues, fingers, and other appendages to chase their pleasure through your body. None of them had made you come, though, so in the momentary solitude of the bath, you’d slipped your hand between your legs until your release pulsated through your tired frame. Now, you’re feeling pleasantly warm and at ease, perfumed and ready if there may be a late-night visitor. You’d be grateful for the extra money, if you’re being honest.

When there’s a steady knock at the door, you saunter over to answer it in nothing but your lingerie, lacy black and surprisingly comfortable. Who knows? They might pay extra for such ease of access - and a nice presentation. 

The flirty smile on your lips disappears when you realize who’s on the other side of the door. 

“Gods—Vi?” You try not to express your shock, schooling your features to the best of your ability. Vi, however, turns a pretty shade of pink when she takes in the sight of you: tits pushed together and decorated in delicate lace, the soft hair over your sex barely obscured with thin fabric. Your thighs are plush and glowy with moisture, hips hugged beautifully by the high-waisted panties that match your elaborate bra. 

Vi’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m… Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” you assure her, opening the door all the way to allow her entry. You try to ignore the way her gaze first moves to the empty bed, something like relief washing over her features before she turns back to you. The door shuts with a soft click. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I thought you were a client.”

After wrapping yourself in the first robe you find by your bedside, you move to the bar cart to pour Vi a drink. She scoffs, an almost-laugh that’s low and soft. “Well, I am a client.”

As the wine sloshes into her goblet, you fix her with an admonishing look. “A client looking for sex, Vi.” 

That shuts her up. Her cheeks are still pink, you notice, as you take in her appearance: most of the dye has faded out of her hair, leaving it a patchy canvas of black, maroon, and fuschia. She’s still sporting a cut and a bruise here and there, but more wounds are covered with bandages than last time. Notably, she’s not drenched in black paint, though there is a ring of liner around her eyes. 

“Thanks,” Vi says when you hand her a cup of wine. She shoots back a mouthful and moves to the loveseat, lowering herself into the same spot as last time.

“So?” You arch a brow at her. “Here for another reading, I take it?”

She nods. “Yeah, sweetheart. If that’s okay.”

“I thought I scared you away last time,” you reply with a smirk. There’s a hint of truth to the statement, though, teasing as you might be - you hadn’t expected to see her back so soon, if at all. 

“Oh, you did,” she admits. “But things have changed, and now… I’m curious what you have to say. I could use some advice.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

Just as it was last time, Vi’s attention is honed in on you. You shuffle the cards with expert precision, and she watches the way your hands dance over the deck, fingers grazing the careful illustrations of each card with easy familiarity. This time, five cards leap from the deck: seven of cups, the chariot, eight of wands, four of wands, eight of pentacles. It’s a story unfolding beneath your fingertips, all the more interesting when you think back to Vi’s last reading.

“You’ve made progress,” you tell her. “But the hard work isn’t over. You’re prone to wishful thinking, which is a good thing, sometimes, because your determination is a powerful force.” 

Glancing up at Vi, you offer her an encouraging smile. “When you fight, I get the sense that you almost always win.”

Vi snorts, wiping a burgundy smear of wine from her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s what the cards say?”

“Not exactly, but, well… I’ve gathered some things for myself.” You hold up the chariot card. “This one tells me you need an ironclad will to move forward. One I don’t doubt you have.”

Is it just your imagination, or does Vi turn pink again?

“And these,” you say, holding up the two cards from the wand suit, “show me fire. Creation, destruction, volatility. You’re dealing with something that can be useful or detrimental, depending on how you proceed.”

Vi’s eyes are alight, not unlike the fire you’ve just discussed. What you wouldn’t give to know how her life aligns with these cards - what fire is she playing with? What challenges is she facing?

“And the last one?” Vi’s voice cuts through your internal musings as she gestures to the final card on the table. You pick it up and show it to her - the eight of pentacles, depicting a man hard at work, hammer in hand.

“It’s very much in line with the others,” you explain. “Diligence, focus, hard work.”

She hums, nodding. “Got it. So, any chance there's a card that’ll tell me what I should do?”

Her tone drips with sarcasm, but you can tell there’s a glimmer of sincerity in the question - and in those pale blue eyes, swirling with emotion. 

You press your lips into a firm line, setting the eight of pentacles card down. “I wish I could tell you exactly what you want to hear, Vi,” you say honestly. “But that’s not how the cards work.”

“Yeah,” Vi responds, voice bitter around the edges; somber. “I figured as much. Thank you, uh, for the reading.”

In the silence that follows, you imagine a braver version of yourself: one that isn’t too hesitant to ask questions. One that would feel comfortable offering a listening ear to this riot of a woman, whose scars and bruises tell you just as much as the cards you’ve splayed out for her. You wonder where she goes after she leaves here, if that home holds a family, friends, a lover. But all you can do is wonder. You don’t go sniffing for information - like the brothel dweller you are, information finds you. And if it doesn’t, perhaps it’s better to wonder.

Vi rises from the loveseat, readjusting one of the tattered blankets strewn across its surface. She finishes the remainder of her wine and, gently, sets it on the table. 

She says, “I’ve gotta go.”

Her hand dips into her jacket pocket and emerges with far too much coin, which she sets out on the table for you.

“That’s too much,” you counter with a furrowed brow. “We didn’t—you only had your cards read.”

You reach forward to collect the extra cash, ready to push it back into Vi’s palm, but she backs away with her hands in her pockets. 

“Nah, sweetheart,” she replies, ambling towards the door and prying it open. “Keep the change.”

The next time you see Vi, her knuckles are bleeding. 

It’s been weeks, maybe even months, and you’re surprised to find her at your door again, much less in her current state: battered and bruised, her knuckles raw and red. Her shoulders sag, that proud, confident air about her entirely deflated. She’s a shell of the woman you’d first met months ago; all that brazen confidence she’d once had has burnt down to dying embers. 

When she looks at you, her eyes are forlorn, watery. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Vi…” You open the door further, ushering her in with a gentle hand at the small of her back. 

Inside, you pour her a drink - water, this time - and instruct her to lie down on the bed, draping a thin blanket over her frame. 

“You’re hurt,” you say pointedly, gesturing to her bleeding knuckles. “Can I help?”

Vi’s expression doesn’t change; her eyes are distant, her skin so pale it’s almost grey. But she nods her assent, so you get to work - you swipe a wet cloth over her knuckles to clear away the blood, then cautiously apply a salve to her wounds. Through it all, Vi hardly even winces, a fact that doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even now, with her brazen confidence stripped away to the bone, she’s tougher than most. It’s an attribute that runs through her to the core. 

“Don’t you want to ask what happened?” Vi asks, suddenly. Her voice is raw, and to avoid looking her in the eye, you focus on wrapping her knuckles with layers of soft gauze. “Wanna know how I fucked up this time?”

You frown. “I’m not one to pry.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause before Vi speaks again. “That’s what’s different about you,” she says. “Everyone else just… Wants something from me.”

Brows knitting together, you fix Vi with a look that you hope reads less as pitying and more as understanding. You’re certainly familiar with catering to other’s desires over your own; it’s been this way for longer than you can remember. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely. Finished dressing her wounds, you let go of her hands, still kneeling at the side of the bed. You stand up with the intention of refilling Vi’s water, but as you reach for the cup, she catches your wrist in one bandaged hand. 

“All those times I saw you,” she starts, “when I had you read my cards… You never asked about my life.”

You nod, wrist burning from her touch. 

“Why? You never wondered?”

“It’s not my job to wonder.” You swallow. “Just to give people what they want.”

Vi’s gaze is intense, holding you in a trance. You’re frozen there, standing at the side of the bed, entirely in her grasp. “But do you ever get what you want?”

Do you?

You’d been working for Babette for years, longer than most - and before that, even as a child, you’d always understood that bending to the will of others is the easiest way to move through life. You can slip through the cracks that way, get enough coin or food or clothing to live another day. You wanted that, you suppose. To live. 

But you’re not sure that’s what Vi’s talking about.

“I have enough,” you say. “There’s not much I want.”

Vi nods. “But there’s something.” 

You smooth your free hand over hers, and she lets go of your wrist. “I’ll get you some water.”

As you refill her cup, you feel her eyes on you, and your mind races. Why does she care about what you want? You’re a stranger to her, a fortune teller living on scraps in an undercity brothel. First, she’d paid you for sex she’d never had, and now she’s in your bed, asking you questions you barely had the wherewithal to ask yourself. Gods, this woman is something else. You wish you could read her mind - crack open that beautiful skull of hers, sift through her thoughts, learn what had led her to you not once, not twice, but three times. You wish you could know everything about her, read her like your favorite book with its pages dog-eared, its cover well-worn.

Maybe that’s what you want, after all.

Returning to the bedside, you hand Vi her cup and stand by as she takes a long drink, then sets it on the nightstand. Her hair has grown a few inches since the first time you’d met her, you muse, and you like it this way - long locks of pink-crimson fall in jagged layers just past her shoulders, her bangs framing her face nicely. You wonder what it would feel like to reach out and run your fingers through that hair, to brush it free of knots, to hold the back of her head in your palm. 

“It’s late,” Vi says, interrupting your train of thought. “I should go - you should get some rest.”

She peels back the blanket you’d settled over her, sitting up. You hesitate, then reach forward to touch her forearm. “You can stay, I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” Vi says, “or… Keep away any business.”

Something in your chest tightens. “You won’t.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“I want you to stay,” you interrupt. “You need rest, too.”

Vi’s mouth hangs open for a moment, stormy blue eyes assessing you. Then, she settles back into bed, pulling the blanket up over her chest again. There’s a long pause, only the muffled sounds of laughter and salacious moans from other rooms filling the silence. You’re debating setting yourself up on the loveseat when Vi murmurs a quiet hey to capture your attention, then pats the space beside her in bed.

There are candles still burning on desks and tables and dressers throughout the room, lamps shining in shades of yellow and orange. You’ll lie down for only a moment, you tell yourself, long enough for Vi to doze off. Then you’d turn off the lights, blow out the candles, maybe sneak off to find a client looking for a fortune teller. You sense that Vi needs someone beside her for now, though, so you climb into bed, wrapping your frame in a velvety purple blanket. 

Once you’ve settled in next to her, Vi turns on her side to face you. Her lips, rosebud pink, are chapped, and you watch her moisten them with a swipe of her tongue.

“Thank you,” she says, voice hushed. “For letting me stay here.”

I didn’t know where else to go.

You turn over to face her, too, the corners of your lips pulling upwards. “Of course. I’m glad you’re okay, Vi.”

There’s a softness in Vi’s expression, now - one that you hadn’t seen before. The tough facade has melted away, as has the hurt, the pain. All that’s left is her rounded, wide eyes, her relaxed jaw, the curve of her lips. You catch yourself staring too long, and when you look up again, Vi’s already watching you.

She raises a bandaged hand to your face, where it hovers an inch away. Her expression asks for permission, and when you lean into her touch, Vi’s hand cups your cheek with a gentleness you’d never think her capable of. Not with those scars, not with the cuts and bruises that have become a permanent fixture on her skin. Her thumb skates over your cheekbone, and the touch feels electric.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

Your breath hitches; you hope she doesn’t notice.

“I’m sure you hear that a lot,” Vi adds. And it’s true, you do. 

You hesitate. Then: “Not from anyone who matters.” 

Vi smiles - it’s a soft kind of smile, one that you wish you could take a photo of, frame it and hang it on the wall to return to when you need a reminder of the warmth in this moment. Her hand leaves your cheek and travels down to your arm, then finding your hand beneath the blankets. Your eyes feel heavy, suddenly - so must hers, because she doesn’t speak again. You fall asleep next to her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, her hand warm and heavy in yours.

When you wake up again, the room is a dark, inky blue. 

You sit upright, back straight, memories of the night before slowly filtering into your mind. Half-expecting an empty space where Vi had once been, you glance to the side, finding her sleeping figure curled under the blankets. Chest tightening, you look down at her in the black dark, eyes straining. 

Her eyes open, lashes fluttering, and you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” she murmurs back to you. One of her arms snakes around your waist, encouraging you to lie back, and you oblige. You’re closer than you were when you fell asleep, Vi’s steady breaths tickling at your shoulder. 

You’re suddenly very aware of her skin on yours; your shirt has ridden up your stomach in your sleep, and Vi’s arm, wrapped around you, burns against you. Your stomach is warm with something delicious, something dangerous.

It doesn’t help when Vi pulls you closer, palm opening against the flesh of your hip. You’re frozen for a moment, wondering if she’s still sleeping, somehow. 

“Vi?”

“Hm?” You feel her draw back, as if waiting for you to turn over, so you do. Eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you peer up at her. 

“I think I know what I want.” 

Vi’s quiet, her gaze steady on you. You’re about to take it back, whisper never mind and turn to sleep again, when she brings her hand back up to your cheek, cupping it in her hand the same way she had the night before. 

“Tell me,” she whispers in the dark.

“I…” You hesitate. “I want you to touch me.”

There’s a long pause, Vi’s eyes flickering over your face, analyzing your expression. Your body is tense with anticipation, and when she finally, finally leans in to press her lips to yours, the tension seeps out of every muscle.

Like everything about her, Vi’s kiss is different - her touch is different. She holds your face as her lips move against yours, soft and wet and sweet, thumb stroking the soft skin of your cheek as her tongue traces the part of your lips. You open your mouth for her, let her lick into you to deepen the kiss. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve been kissed like this. You’ve grown accustomed to hasty, messy kisses, foul breath and rough touches, far too many clients eager to skip past the kissing and get to the fucking. But Vi tastes like heaven as she takes her time with you, tongue soft as it pushes against yours. Every kiss leaves you aching for more, the warmth in your lower belly growing hotter with each smack of your lips against Vi’s. You pull back, catching your breath, and Vi peers at you with bleary eyes. 

“You okay?” She asks, thumb still stroking at your cheek. You nod and pull her in for another kiss, drawing a soft moan from the bottom of her throat - one that goes straight to your cunt. 

You’re not sure how long you continue like that, trapped in a heated kiss, bodies moving closer with every languid sigh and pleading moan. But eventually, the layers of clothing between you is a burden you can no longer bear. You pull back to work your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor before Vi tugs you close for another searing kiss. Your hands slip beneath the thin fabric of her tank, and she shivers, a full-body chill that makes you flush impossibly hotter. Once her shirt is discarded, too, Vi gently pushes you to lie flat on your back, climbing over you in nothing but a thin pair of shorts. You realize through the haze of lust clouding your mind that she must’ve woken up before you - she’d turned the lights off, taken off the stiff pair of pants she’d arrived in the night before. 

Hovering over you in the dark, Vi’s an absolute dream. Tattoos decorate her pale complexion, inked into her arms, her shoulders, her neck - you’d already noticed that she’s heavily inked, but it’s more striking when she’s half-naked like this. You don’t have much time to look, though, because Vi leans over to tuck her face into your neck, warm lips latching to the sensitive skin and littering kisses in an imprecise path. You keen high in your throat, leaning the opposite way to grant her more access, your hands finding purchase on her narrow hips. When you dig your nails into her skin, hissing as she parts her lips over your neck and sucks, her hips buck forward, grinding her thinly-clothed heat over your pelvis. You nearly see stars.

There’s always been a cold draft in your room, in the brothel, and in Zaun as a whole. But here, now, you’re on fire. You lift your hips and push Vi down against your pelvis again, encouraging her to find that friction again, and she emits a muffled moan against your neck when she does. It’s heavenly, that sound - you want to hear it again and again and again, until it’s forever etched into your memory. 

“Gods, Vi,” you gasp, her teeth scraping against your neck. She works her way further south, leaving kisses and bites in her wake, until she reaches the peaks of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty, fuck,” she murmurs, dazed. Both hands cup your tits and squeeze, her thumbs playing with the buds of your nipples until they’ve hardened from her touch. She then leans over to take one nipple into her mouth, moaning around the flesh as if she’d been dying for this. Her tongue draws wet circles over the sensitive bud, her cheeks hollowing out when she sucks at it until you’re gasping and writhing. You need her further down, where your cunt throbs and gushes in anticipation, but she takes her time with your other tit before she even considers undressing you further. 

Still straddling your waist, Vi sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She flashes you a wicked smile, eyes twinkling, and lifts her hips to reach for the waistband of your shorts.

“This okay, pretty girl?” 

You nod, biting your lip. Pretty girl.

Vi rolls your shorts down your thighs, pulls them off with ease and sets them to the side. Your panties are next - a simple, cotton pair that wasn’t anything flashy - and she tosses those to the edge of the bed, too distracted by the sight of your naked body to care much about where they landed. 

Typically, you weren’t shy about your body. In your line of work, you couldn’t be shy - you had to know your features and work them to your benefit. But with Vi eyeing you like you’re a meal and she’s a woman starved, your stomach flutters with excitement and, somewhere, a glimmer of insecurity. The need to impress her. 

And gods, does she seem impressed. She curses under her breath, her rough hands smoothing over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips and your thighs and your ass, licking her lips like she’s parched. You realize, as she settles her hands on your knees and works them apart for you, that she’d taken off her bandages, too. The thought evaporates as quickly as it had come, though, because now Vi’s settling between your spread legs, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” she tells you between kisses. “You gonna let me eat you out, sweetheart?”

The question sends another cascade of butterflies through your stomach. You take in a deep breath, enjoying the sight of Vi between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes. You might die if she doesn’t make you come soon.

A whispered “please” from your lips is all Vi needs - her mouth is on you in a moment, tongue splitting through your folds, warm and firm and wet. She licks at you languidly, takes her time spreading your arousal from your hole up to your clit. You’re drenched, you just know it, and Vi moans as if to confirm your suspicions, lapping up your wetness with every flick of her tongue. Just like she’d taken her time with her mouth on your tits, she takes her time with your cunt, sucking on the swollen bead of your clit until you’re whining her name between sharp breaths. It’s all you can manage to say, your hand tangled in her scarlet locks of hair, tugging at her scalp each time she circles your clit with her tongue. After she’s worked you up enough, you’re suddenly so empty - you need more, and you tell her as much, chest heaving.

“Vi, I need—fuck, I need your fingers,” you cry out.

She answers with a gratified hum, and the vibrations have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Just as you’d asked, though, Vi swipes a finger through your wetness; there’s hardly any resistance when she sinks the digit into your entrance, groaning again at the feeling of your walls around her. 

“So wet for me,” she comments, grinning. “This what you needed?”

You nod, face twisting with pleasure. Vi just chuckles under her breath, working her fingers up to a steady pace. Once she has you moaning again, all high-pitched and needy, she latches her mouth back onto your clit, and you’re gone. You come hard, clamping down on Vi’s fingers and tossing your head back, eyes squeezed shut through every wave of pleasure - it’s only once you’ve come to that you finally open your eyes again, gazing down at Vi starry-eyed.

“Can I be honest, sweetheart?” She sits up on her heels, licking her lips. “That was hot.”

“You think so?” You ask, reaching out for her. She moves closer and kisses you, lets you taste yourself on her lips. 

You pull back only to murmur, under your breath, “I’m not done with you, Vi.”

You’ve had sex with plenty of women in your lifetime, but few have made a real effort to make you come - and none have done it so fast. You’re determined to return the favor. So, with a pointed glance, you instruct Vi to lie back on the pillows, plucking one from behind her to set under her hips.

Vi had called you beautiful, but she’s utterly divine. All sharp edges and lean muscle, she’s a vision, and you’re almost convinced you’re dreaming as your hands smooth over the tattoos inked into her arms. You imagine yourself tracing each of those tattoos with your mouth, sucking bruises into the dark ink - but you’d do that later. Right now, all you want is to bury your face in the patch of red hair between her legs, lose yourself in the taste of her arousal.

Vi’s vocal, you conclude, because as you prod your tongue inside of her, nose bumping against her clit, she won’t shut up. 

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so good,” Vi moans, sitting up enough to allow her to watch as you lap at her pink cunt. An endless chorus of praises and curses leave her lips, punctuated with wanton moans. She’s needy, too - before long, she’s gripping a fistful of your hair and directing you with it, tugging you closer, to the side, to the other side, as she grinds her cunt down against your mouth. You revel in the way she’s using you, pleased when her stomach tenses and your name spills from her lips, warning you of her impending orgasm. She rides it out on your face, and when you finally pull back, you’re wet with her from nose to chin. 

“You’re way too good at that,” Vi tells you when you crawl up beside her, rubbing the wetness off your nose. 

“You’re just as good,” you respond. You move to lie down beside Vi, but when you see her frown, you arch a brow at her.

“Hm?”

“Sweetheart,” she coos, “I’m not done with you.”

She pulls you into her lap, lets you straddle the toned muscle of her pelvis. And after you’ve ground your pussy against her until you’re shaking with another release, she’s still not done. It’s a long night.

At the table in the corner of your bedroom, your deck of tarot cards lies spread face-down. There’s one card upright, though: two of cups.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

NEXT ->

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[goldfades]

★ HARD LAUNCH ───JOE BURROW

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by anon! kelce!sister x joe burrow, secret relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | obviously, taylor swift MENTIONED!! cause of course, i just had to. big brothers jason/travis, teasing, overall fluffy read

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this may be my new fav thing ever? having joe burrow, TAYLOR SWIFT, the kelces + kylie kelce in one family seems so fucking iconic and insane at the same time omg, i lowkey wanna make this a series

You don’t mean to catch his eye.

In fact, you’ve spent most of the evening trying very hard not to. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself later when the weight of it all feels too much, and you’re scrambling for a clean excuse to explain how it even started. Because that’s the thing about Joe Burrow—he’s not someone you plan for. He’s the unexpected storm on a clear day, knocking you off balance and leaving you to question if you’d ever been steady to begin with.

It’s Travis’s fault, really. Your brothers have this way of making themselves larger than life in every room they walk into, whether it’s Jason’s hearty laugh or Travis’s electric energy pulling people into his orbit. And you’re fine with it. Comfortable, even, in their shadows, where you can sip a beer, quietly people-watch, and dodge any unwanted attention. But tonight, at this NFL charity gala, the Kelce sibling spotlight is a little brighter, the event packed with athletes and reporters—people who know your last name. It’s harder to blend into the wallpaper, especially when you’re sandwiched between Jason’s dad jokes and Travis’s loud retelling of some outrageous offseason story.

And then there’s Joe. Sitting a few tables over, clad in a sleek black suit that fits him so well it’s borderline criminal, he looks… well, like Joe Burrow. Sharp jawline, blondish hair perfectly tousled, an air of calm confidence that somehow feels louder than any of the noise around him. He’s laughing at something—something Sam Hubbard said, probably—and you catch yourself staring just a second too long.

You’re not entirely sure who looks away first. All you know is that by the time the dessert plates are cleared and the speeches begin, you’re hyperaware of his presence. You can feel him across the room, like his attention is a physical thing brushing against your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. He’s just... looking. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

It means everything when you’re stepping out onto the terrace for some air, your sleek, black and red YSL heels clicking softly against the stone, and you hear the door open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a tension pulling taut like a string, and you’re suddenly grateful for the cool night air because your skin feels impossibly warm.

“You’re one of the Kelces, right?” His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, and somehow more disarming than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

He chuckles, stepping closer. There’s a deliberateness to his movements, like he’s not the type to rush but always knows exactly where he’s going. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair.” You turn fully now, leaning back against the railing. He’s even more striking up close, the sharp lines of his face softened by the golden glow of the terrace lights. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Then, because your brothers raised you to never back down from a challenge, you smirk. “And you’re Joe Burrow. Didn’t think you’d need an introduction.”

“I don’t. But I’m still glad we’re having this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Don’t know,” he says, leaning casually against the railing beside you. “You tell me.”

And just like that, you’re hooked. Not in the obvious way, where fireworks explode and violins play in the background. It’s subtler than that, a slow burn you feel deep in your gut—like the start of something you shouldn’t want but can’t seem to resist. Because Joe Burrow isn’t the kind of guy you go looking for, but now that he’s found you, you’re not sure you want him to let go.

And a few months later, the relationship between you and Joe isn’t just an open secret—it’s become a storm of speculation. The internet sleuths had started piecing things together long before either of you admitted it, thanks to vague Instagram posts, overlapping locations and that one time someone spotted you in the background of a Bengals training camp photo.

Still, you’ve both remained tight-lipped, dodging questions and letting the rumors simmer on their own. It’s worked so far, but keeping something like this under wraps when your last name is Kelce and his is Burrow? It feels impossible most days.

The rumors, though, are front and center when Jason and Travis bring it up on New Heights. It starts innocently enough—one of their usual tangents about social media chaos. But then Jason, ever the instigator, leans in with a mischievous grin.

“So, Trav,” he says, dragging it out just enough to make Travis squint suspiciously. “What’s this I’m hearing about our baby sister and a certain quarterback?”

Travis groans dramatically, throwing his head back like he’s already tired of the conversation. “Man, here we go.”

“No, no, seriously,” Jason presses, laughing. “It’s all over Twitter. ‘Joe and the Kelce Sister’—people are going crazy.”

Travis tries to deflect, muttering something about people needing hobbies, but Jason isn’t letting it go.

“I mean, listen,” Jason continues, grinning directly at the camera now. “I’m not saying I believe it, but if it were true… Joe Burrow? Not a bad pick, kid. Not a bad pick.”

Travis finally gives in, throwing up his hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s settle this once and for all.” He swivels toward the camera with exaggerated seriousness. “Get her on the phone.”

The producers, who are clearly loving this, cut to a break while Travis pulls out his phone and FaceTimes you. You answer after a couple of rings, your face appearing on screen with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

“What do you want?” you ask, already bracing yourself.

Jason wastes no time. “Alright, tell the people: are you or are you not dating Joe Burrow?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Seriously? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes, seriously!” Jason says, leaning forward like he’s trying to peer through the phone. “I need to know if I should be worried about a potential Bengals-Kelce family feud.”

“I’m not even answering that,” you say, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay,” Travis cuts in, holding up his hands. “But just… hypothetically, if you were dating him, what would you say about the guy? Like, first impressions.”

You narrow your eyes at the screen, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. But you can’t help it—you smirk, your tone deliberately nonchalant. “I mean, hypothetically… he’s not a bad-looking person.”

Both brothers lose it, Jason practically howling with laughter while Travis points dramatically at the camera. “Not a bad-looking person!” he repeats. “That’s all we’re getting?”

You shrug, keeping your expression as deadpan as possible. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, wiping his eyes. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But just know, we’re watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you hang up. But the damage is done—the clip is bound to go viral within hours. And you know the internet will analyze every single word you just said, dissecting it for confirmation that, yes, Joe Burrow and a Kelce sibling are absolutely a thing.

As you sit back on your couch, phone buzzing with texts from friends who caught the livestream, you can’t help but wonder how long you and Joe can keep this secret before it all inevitably comes spilling out. But for now, you smile to yourself, thinking about the way Joe teased you about your brothers earlier that morning. He’d probably find this whole thing hilarious.

—

The off-season brings a rare stretch of peace for both you and Joe, a time when the usual chaos of his schedule fades into long days and quiet nights. You’d been looking forward to the annual Kelce family lake trip all year, a week of boat rides, bonfires, and general shenanigans with your brothers, their partners, and a rotating cast of nieces and nephews. But this time, Joe is here too, woven seamlessly into the fabric of your family life in a way that's both surreal and comforting.

The trip itself is perfect. Joe is surprisingly great at keeping up with the Kelce energy—he plays cornhole with Travis like they’ve been doing it for years, listens patiently to Jason’s never-ending dad stories, and even lets your mom convince him to try her "world-famous" potato salad (a task not taken lightly). Your dad, famously hard to impress, quietly declares Joe "a good kid," which might as well be a five-star review.

The vibe is even more electric this year, thanks to a certain high-profile addition to the Kelce orbit: Taylor Swift. She’d tagged along with Travis, her easy charm and megawatt presence somehow blending seamlessly with your loud, loving family. Taylor and Joe hit it off surprisingly well—you’d caught them once, deep in conversation about some indie band neither of them expected the other to know. And when Taylor found out Joe was a secret Swiftie, she’d teased him mercilessly, promising to quiz him on song lyrics over dinner.

The two of you have been careful so far, sticking to the usual boundaries when phones are out and cameras are snapping. But then comes the moment. The hard launch.

You don’t know he’s planning it. It’s Joe, after all—calm, collected, never one to do anything impulsive without a hundred layers of thought. The picture goes live on his Instagram late in the afternoon, just as the sun is starting to dip below the trees.

The photo is subtle in that effortless, Joe Burrow way, but anyone with eyes can see what it is. It’s a snapshot of the dock, golden light reflecting off the water. You’re sitting with your back to the camera, legs dangling off the edge, wearing an oversized Bengals hoodie that could only belong to one person. Joe’s in the frame too, though only partially—just his legs stretched out next to you, and his hand resting casually on your knee. There’s no caption, just the kind of emoji Joe loves to use, simple and vague—a single wave 🌊

The internet explodes.

You realize it’s out when your phone starts buzzing nonstop, notifications lighting up your screen like fireworks. Group texts, Instagram DMs, Twitter tags—everyone and their mom has an opinion about the post. Your brothers are the first to call.

Joe wanders into the kitchen then, shirtless and still damp from a swim, his hair curling slightly from the lake water. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you on the phone, and you wave him over, switching to speaker.

“Speaking of,” Jason says loudly. “Joey! Nice post, buddy.”

Joe smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Thanks. Figured it was time.”

“Time?!” Travis is howling now. “You just dropped the most casual ‘we’re dating’ announcement of all time, and all you’ve got is ‘figured it was time’?”

Joe shrugs, unbothered. “Seemed like the right vibe.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Well, congrats, I guess. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Welcome to the family,” Travis chimes in, still laughing. “But just know, you’re never gonna live this down.”

Joe grins, glancing at you, his expression softening. “I can handle it.”

Later that night, as the two of you sit by the fire, Taylor strumming a guitar nearby while your brothers argue about s’mores ratios, your phone buzzes intermittently with notifications. You can’t help but marvel at how unshaken Joe is by all of it. He just laughs when you bring it up, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Let them talk,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got nothing to hide anymore.”

And as the fire crackles and your family’s laughter drifts through the night, you realize he’s right. The world knows now, and somehow, it doesn’t feel scary—it feels freeing.

[jmliebert]

When Nanami Has a Crush on You ♡

on the surface, Nanami appears as calm and collected as ever, but internally...he’s conflicted. somehow it's hard to maintain his self-control when you are near

though he tries to remain stoic through it all, subtle signs betray him... (if you look close enough you can see his fist clenches whenever he watches you interact with other men or when he's frustrated with what he said or did in your presence)

he doesn’t force interactions but cherishes the moments when he accidentally runs into you. those fleeting encounters brighten his day, and he silently wishes for more

notices and compliments the small details about you, each remark dripping with charm. also his soft, almost shy smile and a light scratch of his head during these moments make this even sweeter. it's surprising even for him, how he acts when he's with you (as I said his self-control fades..)

always prepared. Nanami is there with a napkin, an umbrella, or just the right amount of time to spare. he’s happy to share breakfast with you, insisting on paying—not out of any outdated notion, but simply because it’s you, and he wants to do something kind

and when he sees you enjoying a simple sandwich, he catches himself wishing he could feed you himself, loosening his tie slightly as he tries to shake the thought away (oh!)

when you compliment his suit, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly masks it with a smooth, “oh, you think so?” you might not realise the impact, but he’ll wear that suit more often

his small, seemingly innocent touches send shivers down your spine. at first, he’s observant and reserved, trying to process his feelings and it takes some time, but as he becomes more certain, his confidence grows, and he begins to act more directly

eventually, he’ll invite you to dinner at a place that’s both elegant and cozy. he arrives to with a bouquet of red roses, complimenting your beauty with heartfelt sincerity. you are so luminous and full of grace, he could stare at you for hours, and he would do it gladly

at dinner, he’s the perfect gentleman—offering champagne, helping with your seat and coat. his eyes never leave yours, brows raised slightly with every word you speak, soaking in your every word

conversation flows effortlessly. you talk about everything—hypothetical scenarios, life, dreams, philosophy and literature—and while Nanami enjoys the discourse, he can’t help but steer it back to you. he wants to know you deeply, genuinely

as the night goes on, he finds himself unexpectedly moved by how easy it is to be with you. he can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace, so effortlessly himself

as he walks you home, your sweet smile and sparkling eyes full of life completely undo him. he hadn’t planned this—he was in it for the long game—but you, standing there like this, make it impossible to resist. gently, he cups your chin and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. when you respond, his long-restrained passion breaks free. his kisses grow deeper, more urgent, as his hands pull you closer. a single strand of his hair falls across his forehead as your breaths mingle, the space between you almost nonexistent. the air feels charged, every shared breath heavy with anticipation

but he pulls away, knowing it’s the right thing to do, even though it feels impossible to watch you walk away, heading to your flat alone (he watches you until he sees the light in your window flicker on)

somehow the thought of you being there all alone...at night...without no living soul to talk to does things to him. the desire to care for you, be there for you, to provide for you never was so prominent, so strong and going home alone was never so hard for Nanami

that night, he’s too overwhelmed to sleep. at 4 AM, he sends you a message, unable to hold back, and waits anxiously for your response, even knowing it’s a little over the top

and now he can't help his chest tightening at the mere thought of you...it feels so good, as if the fog has finally lifted, but at the same time it feels scary, he might like you a tad to much, it's getting out of control (which is good hihi)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

oh, i wanted to write it so bad!!

 you can find more of my works ♡here♡

[dumpywrites]

Facade - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Your friend arranged you on a date with a BTS member. The catch is, you have to pretend like you’re not a fan. 

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, strangers (?) to lovers, idol Jungkook, fan/army reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: I obviously don't know how real idol life works, let's just pretend this is how it looks like ok lol

“You did not just set me on a date with Jeon Jungkook.”

Folding your arms, you stood with your eyebrows knitted together, looking straight at your friend who in contrast had a big grin plastered on his lips. You bit into your sandwich, looking left and right, all skeptical about people overhearing your conversation. The guy in front of you then repeated his sentence again just to humor you. 

Undoubtedly, you did not hear your friend wrong. Man really just set you up with the one and only Jungkook from BTS. Being a set stylist in Big Hit and all, it came as no surprise that he knew the boys, but you did not know that he was that close to the point that he could introduce them to you personally. In fact, you were never aware of how close your friend was with them until now.

While it was true that you had told your friend, although mostly jokingly, about how you wanted him to introduce him to someone, you did not mean this. You did not mean introducing to the guy whose songs you literally had in your Spotify wrapped. 

“Felix, you can’t be serious, how??? I don't think I have anything to wear???“

“Here’s the catch.” The guy said sternly, putting down his chilled drink. “You have to pretend like you don’t know him.”

You looked at your friend as if he just turned into a fish. The sentence he blurted out just sounded ridiculous. 

“Okay, okay, I’m aware of how unbelievable that sounds. Obviously, everyone knows who he is. All I’m asking is for you to at least pretend to not be a creepy fan.”

“I’m not a creepy fan.” You looked at your friend, pretending to feel insulted. 

“You took a picture of his Calvin Klein poster at the mall last week.” He argued.

“That doesn’t count, I was asking about the location.”

“You mentioned something about rock-hard abs…”

“Okay, fair.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not one of those sasaeng if that’s what you mean.”

“Duh, I wouldn’t have suggested this if you are.” He rolled his eyes back at you. “The other's been teasing him about relationship stuff and your face popped up in my head." He sneered. "When I showed him your picture, he seemed to be interested.”

Your eyes widened. “Which picture of me did you show to him?!“

“Doesn’t matter.” He dismissed you. “But you’re somewhat of a fan, so you must know that he’s mentioned that he doesn’t date fans.”

“I’m aware.” You sighed. 

“I think that’s bullshit to be honest, he’s just saying that for safety purposes. So army wouldn’t fight over him and stuff?” He chuckled. “But just so he won’t get put off on the first meeting…”

“Yeah, I get it.” 

“You sound discouraged.” 

“No, I’m beyond ecstatic, it’s just that…” You stopped to sip your drink. “I don’t know, the idea of lying to his face just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You can tell him later if the date goes well! It’s just so he won’t run away on the first meeting…”

You frowned, contemplating for a good moment. “Alright fine, but you have to help me with the outfit.” 

“I got you covered, girl.” 

**

That was how you ended up waiting in a private room, at restaurant way too fancy for you, sitting down awkwardly at a table that has a paper written “Reserved for Mr. Jeon” on it. Out of nervousness, you kept fixing the non-existent crease on your blouse, the one Felix helped you choose just the day before. 

Felix was the one who drove you there, since he knew the place and both of you basically talked with him as a bridge in between. Your friend did mention the possibility of your date being late, due to the fact that he could not just enter the place from the front door like normal costumer would.

Just around six minutes of fidgeting your fingers, you heard a light click from the door handle and you quickly straightened yourself up. Honestly, you wished he came even later, cause you were nervous as heck. Thank heavens for the good air conditioner or you'd be wetting your outfit with sweat.

And so there he was, walking in full slow motion before your eyes. He was walking in casually, so effortlessly. Running his fingers through his black, slightly permed locks, he closed the door behind him and you swore his black blazer was swaying in an animated way. There was a shine in both his eyes and lips. You were definitely wearing a pink tinted glasses and you were fully aware of it.

“Hi, you must be Y/N.” He flashed a bright smile and took a seat. “Sorry I’m late, had to make sure no one saw me and all…”

“Don’t sweat it.” You said, trying not to sound breathless. 

“You’re very pretty by the way.” He grinned. “Like, actually better than the picture Felix showed me.”

“Thanks…” It was impressive how you manage to not stutter while your heart was doing a backflip. “You look great too… I mean I’m sure you get it all the time.”

“Don’t even.” He laughed. “I look great cause we have a team of professional makeup artists on stage. Today though, I’m just Jeon Jeongguk in the flesh.” 

You wanted so badly to hit him because there was no way this man really just said that his no makeup face was anything but gorgeous. 

“Anyways!” The guy exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let’s order? I’m starving!”

“What do you recommend here? I’ve never been here before…” 

“Oh, I’ve never been here either. I just asked Jimin-hyung to recommend me a good place for a date…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I figured it would make a good first impression.”

“You could just ask me out for a tteokbokki and I would’ve said yes.” 

Wait, you didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jungkook’s laughter filled the room suddenly, which taken you by surprise. “That sounds awesome, we should totally get some after this!” 

You couldn’t help but to smile as well. 

“Felix told me you’re a copywriter?”

“Ah yeah, I am. I mostly work for social media stuff.” You explained as you flipped through the menu. “I kinda want to indulge in writing music but I don’t know where to start…”

“You should definitely try it!” He said in excitement. “I didn’t get to actually write my last album since the company decided to go full English, but I’d like to, maybe for my future releases.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

“I can introduce you to my writers and producers if you want?” He looked at the ceiling for a second, pondering. “Have you listened to my song “Seven”?”

As a matter of fact, you had memorized the song lyric by lyric, but you couldn’t just tell him that. 

“O-Of course.” You cursed secretly for stuttering. “It’s everywhere, don’t act like that song didn’t top the charts.”

“Right…” He said, grinning while looking away from your eyes. “I mean, I could introduce you to the writers if you want.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure I can learn a thing or two from you.” You looked at him, testing the waters. 

“Or that! I prefer that, honestly.” He laughed. 

Dinner went extremely well. You were surprised at how at ease you were with him. He was fun and easy to talk to. He was talking about every dish in a very passionate way, which you found endearing. You share the same movie taste as him, which did not really come as a surprise to you, but it absolutely did to him. His eyes were practically glowing talking about the upcoming Deadpool movie. 

The guilt of pretending still lingered in you and you couldn’t just simply ignore it. No matter how comfortable he made you feel, you kept feeling on edge, scared of the possibility of spilling something you’d rather him not to hear. 

“So, are you still up for the tteokbokki?” He asked after giving his card to pay. “I mean, we can’t just eat them on the street like normal people cause you know…” He sighed, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you can’t just…” 

“I’m sorry, it sucks.” He smiled sadly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but… I guess it’s just a small price to pay.” 

There was a very clear hint of disappointment in his voice, and you felt awful. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, I can just tell my driver to drop by so we can get some and I don’t know, eat in my car? Unless you wanna eat in my place which sounds bad, I don’t think you’ll be comfortable knowing we just met—“

“Jungkook, it’s alright.” You assured him. “We can just get them next time.”

“There’s a next time then?” He said with an eager smile. 

You blushed. “Of course. I had fun…”

“Okay… phew!” He exhaled comically and you laughed. “You know, I’m glad I came today.”

“Me too.” You smiled. 

“Can I have your number?” He said with puffed cheeks as he bit the inner side of his mouth. “It’s not exactly convenient to talk via Felix.” He chuckled. 

After exchanging phone number he offered to take you home with him having a driver as the argument. You refused, but mostly because you didn’t know if you could handle being in a close distance and such small space with him yet. Your heart could barely take his boyish grins and cringey jokes. You certainly needed more getting used to. 

Your friend was so gonna get an earful about this. 

Maybe you’d treat him food too as a thanks. 

**

“So?” 

“I’m in trouble, you don’t get it.”

Your friend laughed out loud while you sighed and palmed your face. 

“Aren’t you happy that it went well?” He snickered, eyeing the unopened notifications from Jungkook popping up in your phone. “He even texts you daily, don’t you know how busy he is?”

“He still doesn’t know that I basically have his album at home.” You groaned, slumping into the table. “Albums! And his posters… his light stick…” You ruffled your hair in frustration. 

“Relax, he clearly likes you! Look at those puppy eyes emojis he sent you.”

“How am I suppose to tell him now?!” You looked at your friend in disbelief. 

“I’m sure he’ll understand, you just gotta find the right timing.” 

“That’s easy for you to say cause you’re not the one dealing with it.” 

“Shut up, look…” Felix took your phone and shoved it in front of your face. 

“Are you free this Saturday? Let’s watch a movie!”

“Oh my god???” You snatched your phone instantly, eyes fully open.

And so here you were again, somewhat dolling yourself up for a mere cinema date. You did not step out before video calling your friend and sending the view casual outfit option you had. 

This time Jungkook insisted on sending you a driver to pick you up, mentioning how it was safer and more convenient for you that way. You felt a bit weirded out by the treatment but you guessed it was only right given his status. He even said that he wanted to pick you up himself if he could. 

The first thing you noticed after stepping into the cinema was how empty it was. Sure it was quite late at night, around eleven, but it was not that late to the point where nobody would be there. You had been to the cinema at the same hour before and you were sure it wasn’t this empty. Although you were feeling suspicious, you showed the staff your booking code anyway and she led you to the auditorium. 

How terrified you were to found the auditorium to be empty also, only the huge screen playing the commercials before the movie. You began to look around, terrified. Was this some sort of prank? You were not sure. Out of the blue a finger tapped your back and you yelped in horror.

“I’m sorry! Did I scare you? I was in the restroom.” It was Jungkook. 

You stood up for a few seconds, still processing the whole situation. Your eyes were glassy due to the fear and your heart was beating rapidly. Jungkook just stood there, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a baggy jeans, looking handsome as usual, just staring at you with two cups of soda in his hands. He had a beanie over his head, making his face look rounder and pinch-able. 

“Hey… are you okay?” 

You cleared your throat, scratching your eyes. “I was scared I thought I got pranked or something.” You chuckled, vision still quite blurry. 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you that I rented the whole place… I just don’t want people to see me and make a fuss about it…” 

“It’s okay. I’m here now, let’s just sit down?”

Jungkook followed you as you picked a random seat in the middle of the room. 

He was being awfully quiet as the movie started playing. You noticed how suddenly tensed he was and you saw his hands trembled for a quick second before he shoved it down his pants pockets. 

“Uh, Y/N?” He called. 

You were startled. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t take you on a normal date.”

Your heart melted at the statement. While it was true that you were a fan, but seeing him being a considerate and gentle guy in real life completely swept you away. 

You smiled, looking at his direction. “I mean, as long as we’re spending time together I don’t care where or how.” 

He flashed you a smile, one that could turn you into a puddle instantly. Your eyes darted to a staff that suddenly came to your seats, with two cups of what seemed to be snacks. Your eyes beamed with excitement at the realization of what was served to you. You gasped, covering your lips. You barely mouthed a “thank you” to the staff and they bowed before walking out. 

“I didn’t know they serve tteokbokki here.” 

“They don’t… I just told my driver to get us some.” He said timidly. “I hope that’s okay?”

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been just to eat a tteokbokki.” 

Jungkook breathed out a sigh before smiling brightly. “You know, I don’t even remember the last time I went out on a normal date… I’m sorry if it’s weird to you.” 

“I haven’t been in one in a while either, it’s okay.” You smiled back, poking the tteokbokki and took a bite.

He started stuffing some in his mouth as well. “No, it’s different… I think I will never get the chance to actually date normally, you know? Not in the near future at least. I just wish people respect my privacy more, that’s not much to ask, right?”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” 

“Well, at the end of the day, I love what I do and I don’t regret anything.” 

He shrugged and continued to stuff more food in his mouth, making you giggle at the sight. You had seen him eat multiple times on his weverse live but seeing him actually eat with such enthusiast right in front of you just felt different. God was he cute. 

“I’m glad you’re not like those people.” He looked at you, smiling with his mouth full.

You froze. Am I though? You thought to yourself. Immediately the eye contact was broken and you straightened yourself on the seat to watch the movie, the one with plot you never really got to know at this point. You did not realize how you never really responded to his sentence. 

He did not press over it again and you were glad. Instead of opening his mouth to ask for more, he put his hand over yours instead. A bold move, which surprised you, but his touch was oddly calming and in no time you found yourselves intertwining your fingers together. 

After the credits rolled, both of you stood up to exit but Jungkook quickly caught your right hand again, refusing to let go of it yet. You found it really adorable so you let him be. 

“Let me take you home, yeah?”

“But aren’t you worried? What if someone snoops around seeing the same car drops a random girl and then you later?” You reasoned. 

“You’re not some random girl.” 

You were both mad and smitten that he chose to focus on that. “That’s not the point.” 

“I know… it’s just,” He puffed his cheeks. “I wanna spend time with you more, I don’t really get breaks that often so…”

You almost let out an “aww”. You sighed, fighting the urge to just hug him right there on the spot. “Alright.”

“Yes!” He celebrated, throwing his left fist in the air. “Don't worry, I have a driver trailing from behind in case I get followed. I won't drop you in your specific apartment tower too, if that helps."

“You drove by yourself?”

“Kinda wanna chat just the two of us.”

Okay, you were now holding every fiber of yourself not to just jump and kiss him.

“Is that alright though?” You worried. 

“The staffs here already signed NDAs and stuff, so I hope so.” He shrugged. 

Nodding, you followed him to the parking basement, where he parked his car. He did not let go of your hand until he reached his car. Not minutes after starting his engine, he already was asking for your hand. His eyebrows wiggling playfully at you, while he whined about how he could comfortably drive with one hand. 

You were in no position to complain though, your hand felt too comfortable resting against his. It almost felt like it belonged there but saying that about Jungkook made you feel delusional. Despite actually going on a date with the man himself, it was still surreal for you, the idea of going out with your idol. 

“Do you think I’m going too fast?” 

“Your driving? I guess it’s alright.” You raised one of your eyebrow, looking at him. 

“You know what I mean.” He chuckled. “About this whole thing…”

Before you answered, he spoke again. 

“I get way too excited over these things, I don’t have that much experience and not to mention how I don’t really get that much time to do so.” He nervously laughed. “I’m a fucking twenty-six year old guy who gets way too excited over holding hands…” He shook his head. The curse word rolling out from his tongue actually sounded natural, somewhat sexy.

“I think you’re fine the way you are.” You squeezed his hand, patting the top of it with your other one. “Everyone experience life differently, and so what if you get excited over holding hands? You think I don’t?” You chuckled. 

“You do?!” He said cheerfully. “We’re such a great match already.” He joked. 

You rolled your eyes but your lips were curled into a shy smile. 

“I like you, like a lot.” Jungkook suddenly confessed, as if it was nothing. 

You almost jumped in your seat, looking to his direction. His eyes were on the road but he was smiling from ear to ear. 

This was it right? This was the moment of your dreams. You were literally dreaming about this.  The idol who you admired, confessing his feelings to you. But a small part of you thought about how wrong it was. You were putting a facade in front of him. While you did not lie or put up an act just to impress him, he still didn’t know that you were one of his fans. Will he get mad if he finds out? You’d rather not find out. 

“Jungkook, it’s…” 

“You don’t have to answer right now. We’ll see each other again, right?” This time he squeezed your hand, dragging it near his chest. You felt his heart beating rapidly. 

You kept quiet, only nodding silently. Looking at his direction suddenly felt stuffy so you looked at the window instead, the road and traffic lights kept you busy. 

It was not long after and he finally stopped at your destination. 

“I’ll see you again?” He said, voice sounding a little bit like a beg. 

“I… I can’t.”

Jungkook’s jaw dropped slightly, he looked at you with furrowed brows. “Why?”

“I’m not who you think I am…” You looked away, backing off so your body hits the car door. 

“What’s that suppose to mean?” He leaned towards your direction, making you nervous. 

Panicking, you finally spilled the beans. “Jungkook, I’m actually your fan.” You breathed out. “I’m an army…”

You were so ready to get yelled and thrown out. This was gonna be the moment you wished you had never met—

“I know.”

“Wait, what???” You replied, voice almost a little too loud.

“I saw your little Koya charm in your bag when we first met, I was waiting for you to bring it up but you never say anything.”

Shit, guess you forgot to take that off. 

“But you said you were glad I’m not like those people…”

“And I don’t mean my fans? I was talking about those crazy stalkers and dispatch.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost as if he felt betrayed. 

“I… I don’t know what to say…” You blushed, the sudden realization hit you that Jungkook in fact had known about your secret since day one. 

“That was it right? That’s the only thing that I supposedly don’t know about you? You didn’t lie about anything else?”

“N-No, of course not…”

“Then my offer still stands, I’ll let you know when I’m free next.” He grinned. “If you want to?” 

“I want to…” You managed to say, in which seconds later the huge built guy launched towards you for a hug. 

“Hey!” You whined, but you were aware of how hot your face felt. Your whole body probably had turned red. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked impatiently, eyes big like a puppy asking for food. “I mean… it’s okay if you don’t want to?” He giggled. 

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me…" You groaned. "You don’t have to ask!” You pouted with your cheeks burning like crazy. 

He showed you his tooth-aching smile, one that turned his eyes into crescents, before he quickly dipped and met your lips. It was a short and soft peck. He did left it lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you were lowkey expecting more. 

“Good night.” He giggled. 

“Good night to you too, silly.” You laughed as well, hugging him close and pecked his cheek. 

He finally let you go so you could grab your bag. It was kinda awkward after all hugging in the car seat but oh well. You clicked open the car door, slowly stepping out. 

“Drive safe.” You said, looking back to him. 

He nodded before waving you goodbye. 

That night you went to bed with your eyes wide open. How could you even sleep? The whole scenario felt like you just receive something only someone who had won a war in their past life would get. You took your phone, wanting to text the guy who you totally did not have as your wallpaper now. 

There were already two bubbles of notification from him, but your eyes almost popped out reading the second one. 

“I have arrived safely! No one followed me! Hehe”

“Any chance you want a signed album from Namjoon-hyung? I can give you for a very low price of a single kiss! 💜”

Thank you for reading! 🍷

Prompt request: HERE

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, use of y/n

word count: 5.5k

a/n: so @coco-loco-nut (aka my irl bestie) and i both wrote fics based on the same concept, theirs is linked at the end!

smau

masterlist

Contrary to popular opinion, Monaco was one of, if not your least favorite racetrack. It was narrow, making it hard to pass and way too easy to defend. Analysts would say all of that makes the Grand Prix exciting, while you found it to be just plain stupid. For the last half of the race, you were stuck in a DRS train in 10th, sandwiched between Alex in front and Pierre behind. 

“Fucking hell guys, this is boring.” You complained over the radio “Sorry I can’t do any better right now” 

And you couldn’t do any better the rest of the race. While your race was nowhere near eventful, you were able to get glimpses of the screens showing Charles crossing the checkered flag first at his home race. You didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on your face. He had worked all of his life for this moment. He deserved every bit of euphoria. 

You slid into parc ferme along with the rest of the midfield, barely able to get out of the car and reconnect your steering wheel fast enough. Sprinting down parc ferme, you found Charles celebrating with his team and family. When he eventually wriggled his way out of their grasp, you were able to approach him. 

“Congrats Charlie. Well deserved man” You said, embracing him in a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” Was all he was able to get out. 

As the podium celebration ensued, you and Max made your way to the media pen. Dozens of news outlets were scattered around the barrier, prompting you to separate from your teammate. The interviewer greeted you before going through the standard questions of what went wrong in the race. 

“Now let’s talk about something that happened after the race” The interviewer spoke, leading you to raise an eyebrow. “I think everyone who wasn’t looking at Leclerc was watching you run down parc ferme to greet him. Can you tell me a bit about that?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. At the time, you didn’t think twice about doing it, but being asked about your actions, you probably looked crazy doing it. “Yeah I mean it’s always exciting watching someone win their home race. It’s something I’ve dreamed of since I started watching Formula One as a little girl” 

A pause took over for a moment as you decided on the best way to word your next thoughts. “Charles is a very good friend of mine. He’s someone who welcomed me to the championship with open arms last year. On track I always want to give him a good fight if possible, but off the track I’m always going to support him.” 

Now Charles wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop on interviews. Most of the drivers said the same things over and over again, occasionally rephrasing. But whenever he heard your sweet southern accent, he couldn’t help but to listen in on what you had to say. 

When your words hit his ears, he could feel his heart stop. He wasn’t expecting you to confess a secret crush that no one knew you had to some interviewer, but a guy could dream. Instead, you very publicly friendzoned the Monegasque. 

Little did he know, you did in fact have a massive secret crush that only one person knew about. That one person was your teammate. And boy did he know a lot about it. 

“Did I just friendzone Charles with that?” You asked as the two of you walked towards the Red Bull garage for the team meeting. 

“Honestly maybe” Max said “Depends on if Charles is smart enough to realize you said it because you weren’t stupid enough to reveal your emotions to the media” 

“So then I definitely friendzoned him. Got it” You sighed

You weren’t sure if it was just how boring the entire day was, but the team meeting felt like it was dragging on. While you were zoning in and out of listening to Horner and Marko explain every single thing that was wrong with how you drove, you spotted Max next to you on his phone. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered 

Max’s head snapped up to look at you, quickly turning off his phone as he did so. “Oh, uh nothing” 

You shrugged, not thinking anything of Max’s reaction. He was always a private person, and you understood not wanting anyone to know your private conversations. 

Later that night, you traded your fireproofs for a little black top and jeans, as you and the grid were going out to celebrate Charles’ win. You were the last of the drivers to arrive, all of the boys jokingly blaming it on the fact you took longer to get ready, but in reality you needed the time to calm your nerves. 

You had gone to the club with the grid plenty of times before, but none of them revolved around Charles being the center of attention. You knew he was going to be bouncing around the group, spending time with everyone, and you were sure you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself. 

Meanwhile, Charles was worrying about himself. When he drank, he got flirty. He knew it, Max knew it, even the fans knew it. The only person he was sure didn’t know was you. And that was only because he never drank as much as he usually does when he’s around you. 

He was already a few drinks deep when you finally showed up. He was near the back of the room, but he could spot your figure from a mile away. As you navigated through the sweaty bodies and sticky floors, Charles was easily able to get your attention by a wave of his hand. 

That wave turned into a hug, followed by a kiss on either cheek from the Monegasque. You realized it was just a cultural difference, and that’s how he greeted all of his female friends, but that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering. 

“Congrats again Charlie” You said finally spoke 

“Thank you mon amour, why don't I get you a drink to celebrate?” He asked, his words already starting to slur a bit 

“I can pay for myself. If anything so should be getting you a drink, for the winner after all” You replied. 

“No, no, no. Let me get it for you.” He insisted “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the winner, now would you?” 

You knew you weren’t going to win this round, so you let him buy you a drink. He followed you up to the bar where he easily got the attention of the bartender. 

“Moscow mule and a vodka redbull, blue edition” He ordered

Your head snapped to look at him, surprised he knew what you wanted. Regardless of how many times you’ve gone out drinking with him, you knew you never told him what your usual was. 

“You know my drink order?” You asked 

“I’m just that good” He shrugged as the bartender handed him the beverages. Charles handed you the vodka redbull as the two of you walked away from the bar. “Feel free to put the rest of your drinks on my tab tonight” 

It was a no-brainer that Charles was going to be the center of attention all night. Not even thirty seconds after you got your drinks, his childhood friends whisked him away. Then it was his friends from Ferrari. And then his brothers. And then those people who claimed they were friends with him, but only got close with him after he became famous. 

But no matter how many times he got carried away, he always found his way back to you. Even if it was just for a second, Charles made sure he checked on you throughout the night. 

The majority of your night was spent with Max, Logan and Oscar. You were lucky you got along well with your teammate, and you, Logan, and Oscar all grew close due to being the rookies the season prior. It also helped that Logan was the only other American on the grid. 

“So what’s going on between you and Charles?” Oscar asked 

“Oh uh nothing. We’re just friends” You said, hoping the Aussie would drop the topic 

Unfortunately for you, Logan decided to call you out. “Oh bullshit. I overheard him insisting on buying your drinks tonight, and we all saw you sprinting earlier to congratulate him” 

“Charles is too drunk to realize what he’s offering” You quickly dismissed 

“Still doesn’t explain your actions in parc ferme” Logan reminded

You looked to Max for help, only for the Dutchman to shrug.

“You are no help” You told him as you turned to the two others “I may have a small crush on him” 

Max almost did a spit take when he registered your words. “Small? You were doodling both of your initials together during the team meeting today.”

“Details, details. How about another round?” You suggested, quickly changing the subject. 

The four of you had just finished a round of shots when you saw Charles approaching from behind Max. The Monagasque rested his arm on Max’s shoulder, clearly needing stability. His eyes widened and a goofy smile formed on his face when he saw you. 

“There you are!” Charles slurred, moving his arm from Max’s shoulders to yours 

“Oooohkayy, I think it’s time for you to go home” You said, shifting to support his weight better “C’mon Charlie”

“Ooo Charlie” Logan teased 

You shot the American a glare, mouthing the words “not now”. Charles somehow got himself off of you, only to wrap his arms around himself, embracing his own body in a hug. 

“Uh, are you good?” Oscar asked Charles, his voice filled with concern 

“Yes, just thanking myself for coming out tonight. I picked a great bar” Charles answered with a goofy grin forming on his face. His eyes were shut as he swayed back and forth, almost knocking into a poor girl behind him. 

Apologies quickly fell out of your mouth to the girl. As you turned back to the group, all of the boys except Charles had worry plastered on their faces. Both Max and Oscar offered to help you take Charles home, but you turned them down. His place was only a few blocks away, and your hotel was about the same. You slung Charles’ arm over your shoulder, before bidding goodbye to your friends. 

“Bye Charlieeee” Logan teased his fingers waving goodbye. Another glare was shot from your eyes before Charles was carried out to the street. 

It didn’t take long to get Charles to his apartment. You insisted he sit down as you got him a glass of water, knowing he was too far from sober to do it without breaking or hurting something. Once he downed his first non alcoholic beverage in who knows how long, he changed and you put him to bed. 

You were sober and comfortable enough to walk yourself home, so once Charles was tucked in, you slipped your shoes on. Before you could get near the door though, you heard Charles calling your name. 

“What’s up?” You whispered as you opened the door to his bedroom. 

His eyes mimicked a puppy dog, pleading and full of concern. “I don’t want this to sound weird, but do you want to stay in the guest room tonight? I just don’t want you walking alone in the dark” 

Even though you knew you’d be fine walking home, you knew Charles would blame himself if something did happen to you. So, you agreed. You changed into one of Charles’s shirts that he insisted on you sleeping in, and made your way to the guest room. 

Neither of you dared to bring up what happened in Monaco. Not that anything bad happened, it was simply you didn’t know how the other felt, and it wasn’t a line either of you were comfortable crossing yet. 

Going into media day, you knew the press conference was going to be boring. It was Monza weekend, and your media group consisted of Lando, Pierre, Franco, and Charles. Having the attention on Charles was fine by you. You would be fine without the media taking your words out of context. 

With each question directed at Charles, you zoned out more and more. Thoughts of what you were going to do during the three week break crossed your mind. While traveling around the world for work was fun, home truly was where your heart lived. Your thoughts were cut off by someone tapping you. Looking to your right, Franco’s eyes met yours.

You had made some small talk with Franco throughout the day, wanting to welcome him into the league the same way you were last year. It was painful to receive the news that Logan was being replaced, but you couldn’t resent the newcomer, he just happened to be the one that was promoted.

“Is this usually this insufferable?” He whispered, genuine concern lacing his voice 

You stifled a laugh, careful not to interrupt Charles “Not this bad usually, but yeah it’s bad” 

“Great” He muttered “Thought I escaped it when I got promoted” 

The press room grew silent, leading you and Franco to press pause on your conversation. All eyes were on the two of you, while you guys gave blank stares back. 

“Did you hear the question?” The interviewer asked 

Franco chuckled awkwardly as he brought the microphone to his mouth. “Honestly? No. Bad first impression, so sorry” 

“No worries. Welcome to F1 Franco.” The interviewer said “For a fun question for the drivers: is there a certain trait that another driver has that you wish you had?” 

Franco thought for a second before opening his mouth to speak “Y/n’s friendliness I think. She was the first of the drivers to welcome me into F1, going out of her way to go to the Williams garage and introduce herself. So uh yeah, her friendliness” 

Warmth ran to your cheeks as the Argentinian turned to look at you. His smile was captivating, making your rosy glow even worse. 

“Wow, that was really sweet. Thank you Franco” You whispered before clearing your throat and picking the microphone up.

Your eyes landed on each of the drivers in the room, trying to think of any trait you would want from any of them. Charles’ ability to learn on the fly came to mind, but you couldn’t rave about Charles without revealing your feelings. 

“Ummmm, this may be team bias, but I’m probably going to have to pick Max.” You finally answered “His ability to perform under immense pressure is admirable. Going into last season as a rookie, I don’t think I could have asked for a better partner, or a better person to learn from.” 

The press conference wrapped up, the news stations leaving before the drivers could. You sat and talked to Franco a bit more, getting to know the newest driver better. Charles watched from the other side of the couch, trying not to make it too obvious. 

“Earth to Charles” Lando said, waving his hand in front of the Monegasque’s face

“Wha-what’s up?” Charles asked, snapping his head to look at Lando

“You were staring. Badly.” Lando pointed out 

“Not staring,” Charles defended, but the pink in his cheeks gave him away “Just…observing” 

“Sure, mate.” Lando smirked as he stood up, “You know, if you actually told her how you feel, you wouldn’t have to watch from a distance like a creep” 

“Really? I had no idea” Charles mumbled. He was relieved to see you didn’t hear what Lando had just said, as you were too engulfed in your conversation with Franco. 

“Just saying” The Brit continued “Everyone can see the chemistry between you two”

Charles adjusted his hat as he stood up next to his friend. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship. What if it goes wrong?” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “Or it could go right. Look at how she talks to you, how she lights up around you. That’s not just a friendship, mate. She clearly likes you.”

Charles stole another glance at you, your eyes still focused on Franco. With one last sigh, he left the conference room, almost slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Franco asked you as he looked at the now shut door across the room

“I have no idea” You admitted  “Whatever it is, he’ll get over it”

The Austin sun blazed through the sky as you entered the paddock. You always loved being back home, and of course you went all out for it. You had your hair in two braided pigtails with your favorite cowboy hat resting on top, and a matching pair of boots tucked under your blue jeans. 

Most of the other drivers played into the gimmicks that Texas brought, even if they didn’t do them right. Some donned backwards cowboy hats while others tucked their jeans into their boots, both leading you to wince. Some, like Charles, did both.

“You look absolutely ridiculous” You yelled down the paddock as you spotted Charles in the middle of a media scrum

From what you could tell, they were in the middle of an unboxing of some sorts. Plastic and paper wrapping littered the area as a box was cracked open. Both Charles and the media turned to watch you walk over. 

“What are you talking about? I look fabulous” Charles said, showing off his new hat 

“Yeah,” You replied as you approached him “Except for the fact your hat’s the wrong way and your jeans are tucked in.” 

Before Charles could protest, you took the hat off of his head (from the crown of course, you weren’t an animal) and flipped it. His cheeks grew hot, both from embarrassment and how close you were to him. 

“Thank you” He whispered before untucking his jeans 

Saturday went perfectly for Red Bull. Max won the sprint, while you took second, giving the team a few more points in the Constructor’s race. 

As your day in the paddock came to a close, there was only one thing on your mind: the Texas/Georgia game. Growing up right outside the city meant your Saturdays were spent cheering on the Longhorns, and today was no different. 

You found Charles leaving the paddock at the exact same time you were, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask if he wanted to join you. While you knew he knew nothing about football, it at least gave you an excuse to spend a little extra time with him during the weekend. 

“What’s the chance you’re not doing anything tonight?” You asked as you caught up to him.

“Easily 100%. Do you have something in mind?” He replied 

“I have an extra VIP ticket to the game tonight and a spare jersey. Wanna join?” 

“You know I don’t know anything about American football” He reminded you. Charles truly wanted to go, but he didn’t want to bring your experience down because he was an idiot.  

“Pleaseeee” You begged, flashing him a fake pout “I promise you’ll have fun” 

Charles ran his hand through his hair before sighing “Okay. But this better not ruin my race tomorrow” 

You were right, Charles did have fun. Most of the time was spent on the sidelines, getting up close to the action. Charles didn’t understand a lick of what was going on, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to. You walked him through all of the basic things he should know, like touchdowns, field goals, and extra points. 

And Charles would let you talk for days if he could. He was captivated by how your intonation changed as you explained the difference between a pass, a rush, and a kick attempt. Did any of what you said stick in his head? Absolutely not. But that didn’t matter. He was with you, and you were with him, and about 100,000 other people in the stadium.    

The rest of the weekend only got better for you. Not only were you working your way into Charles’ heart, you made your way to the top step of the podium. You knew Max was going to be aggressive going into turn one, giving you ample opportunity to sneak into the lead, where you stayed for the rest of the race. Both Charles and Max were on the podium with you, P2 and P3 respectively. 

“So would you say last night affected your race?” You asked Charles once you got to the cool down room. You quickly swapped the helmet in your hands for a towel and the Pirelli cap that were waiting for you. 

Charles chuckled “Maybe, I coulda ended up on the top step” 

You shrugged as you took your seat in the middle of the two boys. “Guess we’ll never know” 

After the formalities and shenanigans of the podium ceremony, you found yourself in the back of the media pen waiting for your turn for an open interviewer. You could feel a presence walking up to you, causing you to turn. Of all people, Franco was the one to approach. The two of you were decent friends, you being one of the first people to welcome him to the F1 grid. 

“Congrats on the win, amiga” Franco said, bringing you in for a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” You replied, “How was your first race at COTA?” 

“It was good! Definitely glad to be racing closer to home. I can’t wait for the next three in the Americas” He said 

As you and Franco made small talk, Charles was watching you like a hawk from across the pen. He listened to every laugh that came out of your mouth from something Franco said, analyzed every light hearted touch of the arm. Max was next to him, well aware of the events of the night prior. It was hard for him to not know about it, you would not stop talking about it in the paddock. 

“The way he held me? I felt like the only girl in the stadium” “He let me explain football to him, Max. No one ever lets me do that around here” “Are you sure he feels the same way about me?” Were all phrases that left your mouth earlier in the day. 

Max was positive Charles felt the same way about you that you did about him. Any of the few remaining doubts flew out the window as he listened to Charles whine. 

“Whatever he said cannot be that funny, right?” Charles asked “Like there’s no way”

Max muttered a “mhm” as he took a sip of the Red Bull in his hand. 

“I just don’t get how he does it so easily! What is it about him that makes him that likeable?” Charles asked “Is it the accent?” 

“Maybe it’s because he’s a natural flirt.” Max said “You couldn’t flirt with a brick if you tried” 

Charles’ glare left Franco and turned to the Dutchman next to him “You didn’t need to say that.” Max threw his hands up in defense.

“But what am I supposed to do if she can’t understand my flirting?” Charles asked 

“Just tell her how you feel. Ask her out on a date” Max suggested as if it was obvious. 

“That’s just asking for her to run me off the track in the next race” The Monagasque said. He ignored Lando’s advice in Monza, and he was likely to do the same to Max. 

A frustrated groan left Max’s mouth as he smacked the back side of his friend’s head. “Oh my god. Do I have to spell it out? She likes you.” 

Charles’ eyebrows furrowed as he watched you say goodbye to the Argentenian. A spot had opened up in the media pen, and Charles’ eyes followed you as you greeted the interviewer. 

“How do you know that?” He asked 

“Mate, she took you to the Texas game yesterday.  She doesn’t take just anyone. I’ve known her for years and I still haven’t gotten an invite.” He explained “In the garage, she wouldn’t shut up about how much fun she had with you last night.” 

“Really?” Charles asked. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Yes, really. Now if you don’t tell her how you feel, I’m going to do it for you.” Max threatened as he walked towards the next open interviewer.

The bar buzzed with excitement as the sun dipped below the horizon. It being your home race, you ordered both your friends on and off the grid to join in the celebrations. Most of the guys were already there, already a few rounds deep, but it wasn’t until a certain Ferrari driver walked in that you relaxed. 

Charles navigated the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of you. When he spotted you at the bar, a grin spread across his face. He made his way over, squeezing through the sea of fans and drivers. 

“There you are!” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I've been looking for the race winner!” 

“Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me since the podium” you teased, crossing your arms 

“Right, totally” He fake agreed “Now, drinks on me?” 

A playful smile broke onto your lips as you turned to face the driver. “Actually, I believe it’s my turn. You got me in Monaco, it’s only fair” 

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but you already had gotten the attention of the bartender. He watched as you put up two fingers, and the bartender quickly got to work. As he waited, he was able to catch snippets of chatter and laughter from the rest of the people in the bar. Logan made the trip out to Austin, and was in deep conversation with Oscar and Alex, while Max and Lando were cracking jokes about their battle during the race. 

You handed Charles one of the two drinks you had received “To a dominant 1-2 finish” you toasted, clinking your glass against yours

He took a sip, the refreshing taste of the cocktail invigorating “This is really good. What is it?” He asked, looking at his drink 

“Texas Cactus Water” You answered “Tequila, lime juice, and Topo Chico”

The night wore on, and with each passing drink, the atmosphere became more lively. You were in your element, charming everyone around you. You were sure to spread your attention out to everyone who came to celebrate your win, but you always found yourself going back to him.

“Want another round?” he asked after the two of you finished your drinks.

“Yeah, sure. Put it on my tab” You ordered, knowing he would have said the same to you. 

As Charles approached the bar, Franco suddenly appeared by your side, a broad grin on his face. “Looks like you’ve got quite the fan club” he joked, nodding toward Charles, who was deep in conversation with the bartender. 

“He’s just being nice” You replied, not wanting to think too much about the flutter in your stomach at Charles’ attention “He bought my drinks in Monaco, so I’ve been returning the favor.

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he likes you a little more than just ‘nice’,” he said, smirking.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Please, we’re just friends. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he looks at you differently. Just saying,” Franco teased, nudging your arm before slipping away to join some other drivers.

When Charles returned with another round of drinks, he slid next to you, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. “What’s got you smiling like that?” he asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, just Franco being... well, Franco,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah? What did he say?” Charles pressed, his expression shifting to one of interest.

“Nothing important. Just... you know, how great it is to be back in Austin,” you deflected, not wanting to reveal the fluttering thoughts swirling in your mind.

Charles studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure? Because I could always tell him to back off if he’s bothering you,” he offered, his protectiveness shining through.

You laughed lightly. “I appreciate that, but really, it’s fine.”

As the night progressed, Charles seemed to loosen up even more, the drinks giving him a playful edge. He began to get a bit flirtier, leaning closer and making exaggerated gestures as he animatedly recounted his day.

At one point, he casually brushed your arm while reaching for his drink. The simple touch sent a rush of warmth through you. You could sense the tension building between you two, an electricity that was impossible to ignore.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the lingering sensation from his touch was hard to shake off. Each time he leaned closer, you felt that flutter in your stomach intensify, battling with the excitement of the moment. 

“So, what’s your strategy for Mexico City?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation and distract yourself from the undeniable chemistry brewing between you

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Honestly? Just to keep up with you. I’ve seen how competitive you can be, and I want to push myself more.” 

You smirked, leaning close enough in to get a whiff of his cologne “Is that so? You better be prepared for a good fight” 

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “I’d expect nothing less” he replied. His voice was low, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. 

Just then, Max, Lando and Logan rejoined you, breaking the spell. 

“What were you two whispering about?” Lando asked, a mischievous grin on his face 

“Just race strategies” you said quickly, shooting a glance at Charles. The Monagasque nodded, playing along, but you could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption

“Strategies for what? How to sneak out of here without us noticing?” Logan chimed in. You shot him a glare in response. 

“Oh come on” Charles said, his eyes rolling but amusement still danced on his face “We’re just having a good time” 

Max leaned in, the smell of alcohol on his lips as he smirked “Just make sure you keep it PG, yeah? Red Bull doesn’t need any headlines about you sleeping with the enemy” 

You lightly punched your teammate, causing him to flinch. “I can handle my own headlines, thank you very much” 

The group continued to joke and banter, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Charles. He was laughing and enjoying himself, but every so often, his gaze would flicker back to you, that intensity returning.

As the night wore on, the playful atmosphere shifted to something more intimate when the music slowed down. You found yourself back at the bar with Charles, the noise of the party around you dimming to a soft buzz. Both of you had too many drinks, and it was evident by the conversation you were having. 

“Do you ever think what happens after this?” he asked, his tone serious

You looked up at him, surprised. “After what? The day? The season?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “I mean, after all this. When we’re not racing anymore. What do you want?” 

Charles’ question caught you off guard. It was a vulnerability you weren’t expecting. “I-” you started, then paused, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I want to keep doing what I love. Traveling, meeting new people, but also taking the time to enjoy moments like this.” 

He nodded, absorbing your words. “Yeah, me too. I’ve realized these moments are what make the job worth it” 

You could feel the tension building again, that electric connection almost palpable. “So what do we do about it?” you asked, your heart racing

Charles looked at you, his expression softening, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world around you disappeared again. “Maybe we should stop pretending and just see where this goes?” He suggested, finally confronting the elephant in the room

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip “You mean…?” 

He wasn’t sure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the amount of drinks, or maybe it was due to your true feelings finally being on display tonight. “Yeah, I mean if we both feel it, why not explore it?” 

You felt a rush of emotions - excitement, fear, hope. “I’d like that” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Before you could process what was happening, Charles leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. It took a second to kiss him back, but when you did, it was everything you had dreamed of since you first met him. 

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the other side of the bar, pulling you away from each other. All of the other drivers were staring at you, each pair of eyes matched with a shit eating grin. 

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked 

“Yeah, I’d like that” Charles said, taking your hand 

======

want more? check out @coco-loco-nut's sister story below!

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

•••••••

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny can i order banana bread with hard lemonade with max please. make it spicy. make it nasty. make it sloppy. make it fucking filthy😩😩 i fucking love you and all your works and i trust you with baking and cooking

the bakery menu

want to order something? then browse the menu to see what we have! as for this order, i hope that there's enough spice in this for you! i ended up writing this a little stoned, so i hope everything turned out okay!!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, recreational drug use (weed), reference to smoking & drinking, dom!max, counter/kitchen sex, high sex

you liked parties. maybe, not all the time. but once in a while there was nothing like being surrounded by people and drinking the night away before you slinked off to bed to nurse the eventual hangover. max didn't mind that you went out partying. he trusted you to not do anything extremely stupid that would hurt you or your relationship.

there was one rule, no hard drugs. neither of you needed the trouble that came with too much of a mind altering substance. even if he let you go out to party, he still worried about you when he couldn't go with you. so for your best interest, no drugs.

but there you were, seated on top of the counter in max's kitchen while he dutifully made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. you were still in your party clothes with one of his expensive jackets around your shoulders. you claimed that you were cold. you kicked your legs against the cabinets under you.

you giggled a little.

he handed it to you on a plate and said, "eat." before he grabbed a (plastic) cup from the cupboard above the sink and filled it full of water. he handed it to you, "drink. slowly." then rested against the counter, keeping a stern eye on you.

his blue eyes were piercing as he made sure that you did what he said. you already caused enough trouble tonight. from what your friends told him when they brought you home, you had a few too many puffs of a joint. max didn't think that weed was the devil, but he didn't want you doing anything reckless without him.

as a result he had his very stoned girlfriend seated on the counter and happily eat a pb&j sandwich. he then got closer and rubbed your bare knee. he leaned in and licked a speck of jelly on the corner of your mouth.

he said softly, "you have to be a good girl for me. listen and behave. i know it's tempting to want to be like the others, but i need to keep you safe. what would happen if you took too much and someone tried to hurt you?" he kissed you on the lips, tasting the sweetness of your late night snack on your lips.

"i was fine, maxie." you beamed as you felt his kisses pepper your face. you giggled and squirmed, it was cute. you only called him maxie when you were very intoxicated.

he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut as he touched your arms. you looked so good in his clothes. maybe next time you go out, he'll make you wear a little reminder of him.

"my poor treasure.' he said, "you just have to be the life of the party. now, is there anything else you took?"

you shook your head, "nope. nothing else, i promise. i felt too giggly after the joint and then i ended up back home. but, honestly, maxie... i want you."

he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, "oh i bet. i bet you thought about me on the ride home. you thought about my cock inside of you, i bet if left to your own devices you would've made a mess of the seat of your friend's car." he pushed up the skirt of the 'slutty' dress you wore that night.

you blushed and wanted to hide your face, which only made max chuckle. he pushed the skirt up further until your pretty blue underwear was on display for him.

he licked his lips, "tell me when to stop." he wanted to make sure that you weren't too high to know what was going on. he wasn't a monster.

you nodded and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. you said softly, "give it all to me, maxie." and kissed his ear before you fell apart in giggles. you leaned up against the cabinets and let max take off your panties. he left them dangling on your left ankle.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said honestly, he briefly looked to you and licked his lips.

you watched him take his cock out of his sweatpants, he could see you were already so hot all over. he spread your legs further as he got closer in between them.

his cock was decently sized, nothing to be scared of. nothing that would hurt you if he tried to jam it in. you knew the fantasy was a large cock, but you had you heard stories of bruised cervixes that max was just the right fit for you.

he braced his hands on either side of you on the counter as he slid his cock into your sweet pussy. it wasn't a painfully slow insertion, but when he got his cock to the root. he felt a sense of relief at the feeling of you.

he kissed at your face as he thrusted in and out of you. the tip barely out before he slid back in. he groaned through the kisses that he peppered your face with.

"mmm, that's it." he said, "you feel so good, my treasure. how's that head of yours?" he asked as he thrusted up into you harder. it was quick and hard rhythm.

you felt on cloud nine, with the two shots of vodka, all that weed and now the heightened feeling of having sex all made your head race with thoughts of nothing. everything kind of blended together in your mind.

you held onto his shoulders, your fists tied up in the shoulders of his white t-shirt. you were breathing heavily and felt your core throb. you whined, "max, ah. fuck. i couldn't stop thinking about you on the ride home. i was so fuckin' horny." you whined.

you got horny when you smoked, most would devour a pizza. you'd do that with ease but also want to be fucked until you were a fucked out pile of goo on the bed until you reformed into a human in the morning.

"oh yeah, did you look at photos of me?"

"yes, maxie." you purred.

"were they safe photos?" he asked as he leaned even more up against you. letting him get even closer to you. as if he wasn't already in your personal space.

you giggled, "of course! i didn't want to show my friends what you're packing down there." you had an assortment of nudes from him as he did for you.

he kissed at the nape of your neck, your thighs tightened around his waist as he bullied his cock into you. you were perfect like this, submissive like a little lamb. he chuckled, "good, don't want to cause an incident."

he continued to fuck you on top of the granite countertop in the kitchen. his thrusts were fast and it made you moan loudly against him. you felt your heart thump wildly in your chest.

it all felt so good. you clutched onto his t-shirt as he fucked you rapidly, "please, maxie."

"cum for me, treasure. i know you need it." he whispered in your ear as he continued to move.

you kicked out your legs a little as you came, your noise was high pitched but yet so sweet. it was painfully cute when you did it. it made him hot all over. you felt painfully good.

"good girl."

you held onto him tightly as he battered your pussy with a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. you panted against his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

he said sweet nothings to you both in english and dutch which made you feel like jelly. you leaned up against him as he finished inside of you with a rough groan.

"my treasure." he purred as he slowed down to a stop. he held you for a moment, feeling your heavy breathing against his shoulder.

"maxie." you purred, still hot all over. the weed was still in your system.

he pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his sweatpants. he admired the bit of cum that leaked out of your poor cunt. it eased any possessiveness in his mind, relaxed him that he was able to make his beloved girlfriend feel good.

"c'mon, finish that water and we'll get you to bed." he patted your thigh before he pulled your pretty panties back up over your hips.

you nodded softly before you carefully got a hold of the cup and finished the rest of the water quickly. you could be good, for once!

-

the following week, max was being nice and helping you put your strappy sandals before you went out for the evening with some of the other partners of drivers.

when he got up from the floor, he reached over down the couch and grabbed a windbreaker jacket with his team, name and number on it. he put it on you before he zipped it up to the top, effectively hiding the suggestive outfit you were wearing.

he patted your shoulders and kissed your forehead before he said, "there, perfect. now remember, no drugs. okay?" he kissed you again, "you're going to be good for me?"

you nodded, "always max. but i am tempted to be bad again. if that means you'll fuck me on the counter again."

max smiled as he tapped your nose, his face close to you, "next time i won't be so generous. if you come home to me high again, i'm not going to be as nice."

you smiled at him, "then i'll be good then." you got up from the couch and embraced your boyfriend. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and felt safe in his arms for a moment, "no weed, no nothing."

"good, that's what i like to hear. now you for have fun, treasure." he kissed your cheek. he walked you to the front door before he saw you out. when he closed the door once you left, he palmed himself through his sweatpants at the thought of you.

he walked to the bedroom and searched in the back of the closet. he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and a blindfold. he walked back to the bed casually and placed them down softly.

just in case you decided to misbehave again <3

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Harding gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

Family and past:

Harding's parents split up a few years ago. Her father lives in Amaranthine. She's okay with that and thinks her parents are happier apart

Harding’s mother never taught her how to cook, she's entirely self-taught

Harding carries around the first letter her Mother sent her after joining the Inquisition

Harding doesn't have siblings 

Harding had a mabari named Contessa who passed away from old age

(If in romance) Taash offers Harding to get a mabari together

Time with the Inquisition:

Back in Skyhold, Solas once told Harding he was sorry dwarves couldn’t dream

Harding thinks that if she had never joined the Inquisition, she probably would’ve got married and tended to goats

Harding volunteered for the Inquisition because their soldiers kept scaring the sheep because they all had super old maps. And because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life watching sheep

General: 

Harding likes sandwiches, they are one of her favourite foods 

Harding finds Treviso very beautiful (who doesn’t) 

Harding would bring a bow, clean socks and a spoon to a deserted island

Harding likes books about blood and gore

Harding doesn't like killing, but she doesn't feel bad about it. She compares it to farmers having to kill wild animals that get too close to their land, as sometimes a quick kill can prevent more suffering (i.e. if a wolf gets inside your sheepfold, your own animals will die in pain)

She says that this kind of mindset is the reason why a lot of Inquisition scouts came from farmers, as they need to kill people when necessary (even if those people aren’t their enemies personally), but don’t go out looking for it

Harding likes almonds. They are crunchy :) 

Harding is fascinated by Minrathous’s nightlife 

Harding doesn't drink alcohol 

Harding really likes puns

Harding has fought a Stormrider dragon before 

Harding has a detailed and decorated scrapbook with her kills (with doodles. Including a cute giant spider)

Harding never visited Nevarra before the Veilguard, though she had heard of Cumberland’s Summer Exhibition. Emmrich disregards it as just a market with a horse show 

Dwarves and magic:

Harding finds herself more hungry than usual since getting hew new powers

Neve and Emmrich hypothesise that Harding developing Titan powers may have increased her lifespan (or even granted her eternal life) 

Harding describes using her magic as “touching something vast and eternal, a well, deep inside”. Lucanis says that it sounds similar to him using his demon powers

Relationships with companions:

Bellara, Neve and Taash call her “Lace”. Davrin and Lucanis call her “Harding”

Emmrich calls her "Harding" most of the time, though he calls her "Lace" on two occasions (in a banter about Emmrook, and the one where he talks about seeing her aura differently after he becomes a Lich)

Harding grows special plants for Davrin to help him mask the griffon smell in his room

Harding grows truffles for Assan

Harding lets Assan sleep on her

To Lich!Emmrich, Harding appears different from other dwarves. She has a special aura (but it comes and goes)

Harding buys an enchanted barbed arrow to take out Lucanis/Spite if push comes to shove. She later tries to give it to Lucanis and apologises, but he insists she keeps it as a sign of his trust

Harding finds Teia intimidating because she is “polished” (Lucanis disagrees but notes she keeps good track of all utensils Viago poisoned at the table) 

Teia called Harding fearless in a conversation with Lucanis

Harding invites Neve to her house in Ferelden after Neve's apartment in Minrathous burns down, in case she wants to get away from the Lighthouse 

Harding is very excited about Neve taking over the Threads (“Do they have to kiss your hand?”) and wishes she were a crime boss

Harding once dreamt of Neve stealing her strawberry tarts

Harding starts humming Taash’s name to herself after they get together

About gifts from Taash: 

Harding doesn’t use the archery bracer because it feels so special she’s afraid it could get lost or get dirty

She also doesn’t wear the hairpin because she’s afraid to lose it

Taash got the cheese in Minrathous

Conclusion: get Harding cheese, it’s the only thing she isn’t afraid to actually use

Garden and plants: 

It's enough to mention a plant for it to start growing in Harding’s garden

The Fade plants normally don’t need tending. However, they may begin to wilt if that’s what you expect them to do 

Smuggler’s Rose clouds the person’s mind if you are wearing it like perfume, letting you pickpocket other people more easily

Sage bane mixed with troll moss can be used to treat toenail fungus

[luveline]

a hotch x bombshell!reader, where it's cold and reader's adamant that the only solution is to hug and cling onto hotch like a leech lol? <3

With Gideon nowhere to be seen, Morgan face down in his phone, and Spencer and Elle off doing who knows what, you and Hotch are alone in your venture for lunch. It's exactly how you like it. 

You shrug into your coats and escape the precinct. A short walk lands you in the middle of a crowded town centre, farmers market stalls shielded from the rain by their thatched roofs, families zipping in and out of stores to hide from the rain. You pull the expandable umbrella from your bag. 

“Do you want to hold it?” you ask. 

Hotch rolls his eyes. 

“What? If I hold it, I'll stab your eyes out. It would be a shame, Hotch, they're a beautiful shape.” 

Hotch takes the umbrella gently, his fingers brushing yours. They're warm where yours are cold, a little bigger with calluses on the skin beneath his first and second finger. You'd love to squeeze your fingers between his, steal his warmth, tether him to you for a while before work starts again and everything's tense. 

The wind whips hard. Hotch doesn't seem affected, holding the umbrella over your heads like the wind is breezing straight through him. 

You shiver. “How far is the place?” 

“You cold?” 

“Like, ten minutes? Fifteen?” 

Hotch laughs to himself. “Five. Button your coat.” 

“My outfit,” you grumble, buttoning your coat reluctantly.

Hotch walks closer to you after that, the arm that's holding the umbrella behind your shoulder a slip of warmth. He's very, very warm, and he keeps the umbrella over your head diligently. An idea begins to take shape.

“Hotch, would you say you're a gentleman?” 

“That… depends on what you're about to ask me.” 

You look up into his face. He's certainly handsome, and he always holds the door for you, always brings you a coffee even though you tease him about being in love with you. His frown is curiously missing as he slows his pace, the two of you walking a meander through the street. “What level of unprofessionalism is acceptable between us?” 

“Again…” 

To his credit, he smiles at you. Doesn't waver as you slip your hand through his arm. “Is this okay? Please?” you ask. 

“It's okay,” he says steadily. 

“So you're obsessed with me. Got it.” 

He doesn't laugh, but you'd like to think he wants to, he's too maddeningly serious is all. You check his face a few times to make sure it truly is okay, leaning into his side once you're certain. 

“Not far,” he assures you. “Next time, we'll drive.” 

“I have never been so cold in my life.” 

“No? What about Alaska?” 

“No, because Morgan is a better man than you are. He kept me stocked in hot chocolate and he bought me that hoodie with the moose on the front.” 

Hotch transfers the umbrella from one hand into the other to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You squash a cheesy smile down and replace it with a smirk in case he looks at you, ever-pleased as he pulls you in as tightly as he can without tripping over you. “I offered to get you a sweater,” he murmurs, sounding about as irritated as he can be with you, which isn't a lot, “I offered you my coat. You wouldn't say yes.” 

“A real gentleman wouldn't have to ask.” 

He sighs and rubs your upper arm. “Of course.” 

You cling to him for the rest of the walk, and for some time in the sandwich shop too. He doesn't try to remove you nor tell you off, doesn't argue his case. He doesn't so much as mention how he ordered your lunch exactly as you like it —with all your alterations and add-ons— though you know you didn't ask him to. 

A gentleman after all. The urge to loop your hands together on the walk back is extreme, but you deny yourself the pleasure once again. 

Maybe some day.